Choreographies
The choreography
of paint on the canvas
the brush swaying
from side to side
crossing the surface
in leaps and bounds
air moving
through the bristles
energy unleashed
life as it should be lived
John Lyons
Choreographies
poetry
Early morning musing
Early morning musing
Beautiful mottled January sky
light illuminating
shreds of grey cloud
birds engaged
in aimless enjoyment
the to and fro of their lives
the year is on the turn
there may be better days to come
but this is one of the best so far
and it feels good
to be alive
to know that there is love
in the world
and to be a part of it
John Lyons
Words from the bridge
Words from the bridge
And again we ask
how many dawns
and what lasts
unbroken
on the wheel of time
what is built to last
a bridge or a cathedral
or a castle in the sky
yet what outlasts them all
is the word
Even though the language dies
the words remain
intact somewhere
in the collective mind
What lasts
is what returns
time and time again
promises and vows
and declarations
of love
its ebb and flow
amid the light
and the darkness
Love lasts
love the word
verb and noun
the love forever
on lovers’ lips
John Lyons
January moon
January moon
Anonymous moon
half-moon
globe of dust
and dreams
and measurement
of my life
Sleepless moon
empty of promise
empty of time
empty of love
Tunes played
on a fractured harp
amid the mist
and at times frost
But for your breath
I would be cold stone
But for your palpable breath
I would not be
John Lyons
Januar Mond
Anonymer Mond
Halbmond
Kugel aus Staub
und Träumen
und Messung
meines Lebens
Schlafloser Mond
leer von Versprechen
zeitlos
leer von Liebe
Melodien gespielt
auf einer gebrochenen Harfe
inmitten des Nebels
und manchmal Frost
Ohne deinen Atem
wäre ich ein kalter Stein
Ohne deinen fühlbaren Atem
ich würde nicht sein
(German version by John Lyons)
Sonnets to Orpheus – sonnet 14
Sonnets to Orpheus – sonnet 14
We move among flowers, vine leaves, fruit.
They do not speak only of the years.
Out of the darkness a colourful display emerges
and perhaps bears the jealous glint
of those dead who invigorate the earth.
What do we know about their part in this?
It has long been their way to enrich
the clay with their generous marrow.
The only question now is: are they happy to do this? …
This fruit demands the arduous labour of slaves,
driven by us, by their masters?
Are these the souls who sleep at the roots
and favour us with their abundance,
this mingling of silent strength and kisses?
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translation by John Lyons)
Sonette 14
Wir gehen um mit Blume, Weinblatt, Frucht.
Sie sprechen nicht die Sprache nur des Jahres.
Aus Dunkel steigt ein buntes Offenbares
und hat vielleicht den Glanz der Eifersucht
der Toten an sich, die die Erde stärken.
Was wissen wir von ihren Teil an dem?
Es ist seit langem ihre Art, den Lehm
mit ihrem freiem Marke zu durchmärken.
Nun fragt sich nur : tun sie es gern? …
Drängt diese Frucht, ein Werk von schweren Sklaven,
geballt zu uns empor, zu ihren Herrn?
Sind sie die Herren , die bei den Wurzel schlafen,
und gönnen uns aus ihren Überflüssen
dies Zwischending aus stummer Kraft und Küssen?
Sonnets to Orpheus
Sonnets to Orpheus
Sonnet 4
O you gentle souls, every once in a while
confront the breath that disdains you,
let it part around your cheeks,
behind you it shudders, converges.
O you blessed ones, o you whole ones,
you who seem to be where the heart begins.
Bow of arrows and target of arrows,
your smile glistens eternally with tears.
Don’t be afraid to shoulder the burden,
hand it back to earth’s weight:
the mountains are heavy, the oceans too.
Even the trees you planted as children,
long ago grew too heavy; you couldn’t carry them.
But the breezes… but the spaces…
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translation by John Lyons)
O ihr Zärtlichen, tretet zuweilen
in den Atem, der euch nicht meint,
laßt ihn an eueren Wangen sich teilen,
hinter euch zittert er, wieder vereint.
O ihr Seligen, o ihr Heilen,
die ihr der Anfang der Herzen scheint
Bogen der Pfeile und Ziele von Pfeilen,
ewiger glänzt euer Lächeln verweint.
Fürchtet euch nicht zu leiden, die Schwere,
gebt sie zurück an der Erde Gewicht;
schwer sind die Berge, schwer sind die Meere.
Selbst die als Kinder ihr pflanztet, die Bäume,
wurden zu schwer längst; ihr trüget sie nicht.
Aber die Lüfte … aber die Räume….
This is a quiet poem
This is a quiet poem
This is a quiet poem
: it’s New Year’s Day
and the streets are silent
the party’s over
the birds are relaxing
in their respective nests
there’s virtually no traffic
It’s as though
the previous twelve months
have been erased
the world is giving itself
a chance to freshen up
Lovers repeat their vows
their promises and stare
into each other’s eyes
It’s the newborn year
it doesn’t wish
to be disturbed
There are expectations
of peace and a resolution
to all conflicts
This is a quiet poem
and I’m sitting here
in Vienna awaiting
the orders that only I
can give myself
I love the sound
of certain voices
and their silence too
I love the gentleness
of the day and the ease
with which my lungs
fill with air and empty
each time I take
a deep breath
John Lyons
With corrections
