The hand of blood and bone
picks roses of dear perfection
things of time
that pass simply away
The back and forth
of banter on all
lovers’ lips
bonded bodies
that slip effortlessly
into sleep
Sometimes I speak
for the sake of speaking
and then listen
to how silence closes in
around my words
Silence
John Lyons
Anemone and columbine
Have grown in the garden
Where sadness sleeps
Between love and disdain
Here our shadows come too
That the night will dissipate
The sun that deepens them
With them will disappear
The deities of breathing waters
Let their hair run free
Go on you should pursue
That beautiful shadow you desire
Guillaume Apollinaire (from Alcools)
Translation by John Lyons
* * *
French original
L’anémone et l’ancolie
Ont poussé dans le jardin
Où dort la mélancolie
Entre l’amour et le dédain
Il y vient aussi nos ombres
Que la nuit dissipera
Le soleil qui les rend sombres
Avec elles disparaîtra
Les déités des eaux vives
Laissent couler leurs cheveux
Passe il faut que tu poursuives
Cette belle ombre que tu veux
The darkness is ours
in which I hand to you
you hand me back
all the love
water spreads
through the earth
reaches into
the root of being
in the darkness
as mirrors rest
your secret voice
is revealed
through the blinds
a moon laced with cloud
on white linen
the thorns are removed
one by one
there is no blood
to stain
no tears to dry
your mouth
is an abyss
into which
I willingly fall
and sleep comes
gently
John Lyons
I can’t do a thing, I can’t see a thing.
When you’re old, you shouldn’t go out
You should stay indoors by the fire,
With warm clothes and the day tempered
Each evening by the night and the lamplight.
When you’re old, you shouldn’t read anymore.
Words are bad and meant for other lives.
You should stay in, your eyes glazed, resigned
Motionless, in a corner.
When you’re old, you shouldn’t talk anymore
You mustn’t sleep anymore. . . You must remember
That others are constantly thinking:
“When you’ve seen it all, you’re miserable
And when you’re old, you’ve seen it all!”
Paul Eluard (1895-1952)
Translation by John Lyons
French text :
Je ne peux rien faire, je ne peux rien voir.
Quand on est vieux, il ne faut plus sortir
Il faut rester dans la chambre avec le feu,
Avec de chauds vêtements et le jour adouci
Chaque soir par la nuit et la clarté des lampes.
Quand on est vieux, il ne faut plus lire.
Les mots sont mauvais et pour d’autres vies.
Il faut rester, les yeux perdus, l’air résigné
Dans un coin, sans bouger.
Quand on est vieux, il ne faut plus parler
Il ne faut plus dormir. . . Il faut se souvenir
Que les autres pensent sans cesse:
« Quand on a tout vu, on est misérable
Et quand on est vieux c’est qu’on a tout vu! »
Paul Eluard (from Le devoir et l’inquiétude, 1916-1917)
How soon the petals fall
how soon dawn turns to dusk
how soon this life is over
and all things turn to dust
and memories are piecemeal
and time consumes them all
till love is all that’s left us
that love in which we trust
John Lyons
For those who care
and care enough
so as never to pay
lip service to love
to care from the heart
poetry from the heart
not ideas but things
as real as a red rose
things filtered
through feelings
the heart tells us
there’s nothing
like love
John Lyons
Say that all things attract
say that there is method
in beauty
that there is purpose too
and all art is found
actively discovered
and chosen and pulled out
from anonymity and displayed
paraded before the senses
and that there is always
measurement and dimension
intensities and degrees
of subtlety and that sounds
and colours and textures
and shapes and tastes
on the tongue all rhyme
that the eye and the ear
bind it all together
and have done so
from the moment
that the mind was born
and with it love
and the walls of caves
were filled with
sensual narrative
and that dance and music
and song are all
in the nature of breath
John Lyons
I notice it more
on early summer evenings
when I sit with the door
open onto the garden
the rich melodies
of several species
intertwined
in the warm air
I cannot see where
the birds are perched
nor even tell exactly
where the song
is coming from
but it cheers me no end
and I recognise it
as an act of thanksgiving
John Lyons
Emerson was right
: thought makes things
fit for use
and Zukofsky echoed
There is no life
without purpose
no exalted rose
no winedark Aegean Sea
no beauty or truth
no love
The poet’s task
is to tell it as it is
to denounce tyranny
to laud good governance
So Homer blindly sang
of Helen’s beauty
and of the strength and wit
of Ulysses and Dante
delivered Beatrice
from hell’s depths
Kosmos means beauty :
thoughts make a world
fit for use
with words together
we make a life
fit for love
John Lyons
Every word
was once a poem
the sea and the rose
the sea rose
the shadows
that scuttle
along the shore
at sunset
or the sun high
in the June sky
love
and its enactment
the clinch
the kiss
every word
once poem
and all words
portmanteaus
of their previous
utterance
that the poet refreshes
as he resurrects
her hair
her lips
her eyes
all fit
for poetry
enunciation
annunciation
the tale in the telling
and so we move
from day to night
from table to chair
and so to bed
John Lyons
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