poetry

Crocuses on the lawns

irlandesuk poetry

Crocuses on the lawn

It’s February
            and there are crocuses
on the lawns
            their gold and violet leaves
enjoying the balmy spring air
            From bulbs that lie
below the surface
            they suddenly appear
as if out of nowhere
            but they are messengers
and they bring good cheer
            the worst may not be over
but it’s good to be alive
            and this just may be the year
when love comes your way
            and comes to stay

John Lyons

Poem, by Paul Verlaine

irlandesuk poetry, translation ,
Paul Verlaine
              Verlaine

Above the roof, the sky’s
So blue, so calm!
Above the roof, a tree
Waves its leaves.  

The bell, in the sky we see,
Is softly ringing.
In the tree we see a bird
Singing its sad song.  

My God, my God, life is there,
Simple and tranquil.
This peaceful sound
Comes from the town.  

And you there, what have you done,
With your endless tears,
Tell me, you, what have you done,
With your younger years?

Paul-Marie Verlaine (1844 – 1896) 

Translation by John Lyons

Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit,
Si bleu, si calme!
Un arbre, par-dessus le toit,
Berce sa palme.

La cloche, dans le ciel qu’on voit,
Doucement tinte.
Un oiseau sur l’arbre qu’on voit,
Chante sa plainte.

Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, la vie est là
Simple et tranquille.
Cette paisible rumeur-là
Vient de la ville.

– Qu’as-tu fait, ô toi que voilà
Pleurant sans cesse,
Dis, qu’as-tu fait, toi que voilà,
De ta jeunesse ?

Musée d’Orsay 

irlandesuk poetry ,
Musée
Musée d’Orsay, Paris

Musée d’Orsay 

A place of memories
            of you and I
where we once were
            of days gone by
when love was love
            so easy on the lips
as hand in hand
            we strolled
through our life
            without a care

A terminus
            where works of art
end their days
            marooned for all time
in this huge hall under the eye
            of the clock

A place in the memory
            in the heart and soul
of tenderness and love
            that never fades
that never ends
            will never die

John Lyons

An aside on Wallace Stevens

irlandesuk poetry ,

An aside on Wallace Stevens

I read him for the granulations of time
            for the immaculate imagery
with which he sketches our existence
            the true interior life that sums us up
for the transparence of place he inhabits
            and for the thoughtfulness of his voice

He is a master of landscapes
            of rivers and mountains and plains
and trees and blackbirds with an acute eye
            for anything that moves
in a field of snow
            and in his observations he is always
central and necessary and just as the stars
            he stands naked in the cosmos

How often do we note that the sea
            breaks on the edges of his lines
that are composed
            for oboe or hautboy
intuitive melodies to be performed
            in the haunted forests of our cities
evoking all those unsettling truths
            so deeply buried in our blood

John Lyons

Our trade in love

irlandesuk poetry ,

Our trade in love

As the year turns
            and seasons slip
one into another
            the still air lies lightly
above the land
            nature on its marks
about to burst
            into colour

and this our trade in love
            the history of our blood
the lines that have brought us
            to this convergence
to the ceremony
            of our commingled flesh
each with an inexhaustible
            appetite for life

our nails pared
            our hair trimmed
the deep breath
            as we embrace
Passion’s give and take
            our lives no less mysterious
than those of the foxes
            that live in the reality
of our imagination :
            and in your body
I see the map of my heart
            the endless path
that I must take
            time and time again

John Lyons

Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.
                              Antony and Cleopatra

Saturday in São Paulo

irlandesuk poetry , ,
Parque Trianon
Parque Trianon, São Paulo

Saturday in São Paulo

The soft winter light
             falls at a certain angle
illuminating the tall buildings
             along the Avenida Paulista

I pass
             by the Parque Trianon
noticing every shade of green
             every leaf sharp in the mind
I’m heading in the direction
             of the Conjunto Nacional
to hunt for books
             in the Livraria Cultura

I see parents of young families
             proudly walking
with their kids and a feeling
             of tranquility reigns on the streets
a sense of relief from tensions
             of the working week 

It’s a day to enjoy
             and there’s no need
to scratch too deeply
             below the surface

John Lyons

This is a translation of a poem originally written in Portuguese

Held in the memory

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

Held in the memory

Momentary flames
            a brief fire that flickers
in the mouth of a cave
            a time for reflection
and for expression
            Pollock’s hand prints
on the wall
            the colours mixed
with intention
            a scheme of things
in the mind
            deliberately executed

Not to leave a record
            but simply to tell
of how it is
            of how it was
that day when we walked
            through the rain
or when we parked our bikes
            and stood in the shadow
of Chartres cathedral
            and admired its beauty
Days that we will never forget
            until the end of our days
and our love held
            in the memory

John Lyons

Look to love

irlandesuk poetry

Look to love

What do you want to know
            what words do you look to
for wisdom for understanding
            that there’s nothing free from dust
in this world
            or that the turbulent sea
will outlive us all
            that the genius of nature
is inexhaustible ?
            Seed bud leaf flower
the mysterious genealogies
            of all living things
and natural selection
            and the truths that never waver

Look to love
            to the love in your life
the love that survives
            the day to day
the flesh bound fast
            to another’s flesh
for better or for worse
            Arrange your home
the inner sanctum
            be seasonal and fill it with roses
never mind the dust
            honour your heart’s desire
time is a luxury
            spend it wisely

John Lyons

Moonless night

irlandesuk poetry

Moonless night

A night in which I saw no moon
but stood in the darkness

and gazed up at the black sky
seeded with a million stars

visible to the naked eye
some still in their infancy

others dying a lingering death
and I thought of all that distance

and all that light and all that silence
and all the love that we once shared

and all that warmth that so suddenly
turned to cold disdain when you left

John Lyons