The bare bones of life
breath drawn at dawn
a new day to be lived
in peace and in love
We are the stars
of our known universe
and our task is to shine
as best we can
John Lyons
A view from my room
A clear day and no memories
I see the tall overgrown grass
bathed in the grey light and
here and there the stems
of dandelions waiting for the sun
before they’ll unfold their flowers
: birds are flying overhead
but there is complete silence
As the wind rises the branches
of the trees at the end of the garden
begin to sway to its rhythm
The picnic table is littered
with dry faded blossom and the empty
wooden chairs have that forlorn
abandoned look as though none of us
had ever been here before
John Lyons
Let innocence age
Let innocence age
how light travels
through the decades
a young child
on a suburban train
gazes at me
smiles
across the cosmos
down the tunnel
of time
seeing his origins
in reverse
Those early years
of which so little
is remembered
life’s preamble
barely off hands
and knees
and how the hands
themselves vie
with the eyes
in the search
for understanding
and palpable love
John Lyons
Not of words
Not of words
the poet uses words
to denounce words
longs for a love
not of ideas but of gestures
stability of the land
lapped by the sea
not an expression
but as the sun pulses
as lilies in the field grow
and as the bees
collect their nectar
Words are brief
are soon over
are often lost
or displaced
by the mind
but love is strong
and quiet and peace
and tenderness
are its embodiment
the kiss its seal
John Lyons
Shoulders bear the weight of the world
Comes a time when we no longer say: my God.
A time of absolute stripping to the bone.
A time when we no longer say: my love.
Because love turned out to be useless.
And the eyes don’t cry.
And the hands only weave coarse work.
And the heart is dry.
Women knock at the door in vain, you won’t open it.
You were left alone, the light goes out,
and your eyes shine enormous in the dark.
You’re full of certainty, can suffer no more
And you expect nothing from your friends.
That old age approaches matters little, what’s old age?
Shoulders bear the weight of the world
and it weighs no more than a child’s hand.
Wars, famines, and conflicts in buildings
Merely confirm that life goes on
And not everyone has yet broken free.
Some, finding the spectacle barbarous,
Would prefer (the sensitive ones) to die.
Time has come when there’s no point in dying.
Time has come when life is an imperative.
Mere life, without perplexity.
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
(translation by John Lyons)
corrected version
Tangled web
Tangled web, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil and enamel paint on canvas)
We have been
over this ground
a thousand times
she said
This is the tangled web
we have woven—
a landscape
in which we can
barely distinguish
the wood for the trees
John Lyons
Sea privilege – Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Carlos Drummond de Andrade (1902-1987)
On this tolerably comfortable terrace,
we drink beer and look out at the sea.
We know that nothing will happen to us.
The building’s solid and so too the world.
We know that every building houses a thousand bodies
toiling away in a thousand identical compartments.
Sometimes some wearily enter the elevator
and come up here to breathe the ocean breeze,
which is a privilege of these buildings.
The world really is made of reinforced concrete.
Surely, if there was a rogue cruiser,
anchored in the bay opposite the city,
life would be uncertain. . . unlikely. . .
But in the calm waters there are only trusty sailors.
How cordial the fleet is!
We can drink our beers with honour.
1940
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
(translation by John Lyons)
Privilégio do Mar
Neste terraço mediocremente confortável,
bebemos cerveja e olhamos o mar.
Sabemos que nada nos acontecerá.
O edifício é sólido e o mundo também.
Sabemos que cada edifício abriga mil corpos
labutando em mil compartimentos iguais.
Às vezes, alguns se inserem fatigados no elevador
e vêm cá em cima respirar a brisa do oceano,
o que é privilégio dos edifícios.
O mundo é mesmo de cimento armado.
Certamente, se houvesse um cruzador louco,
fundeado na baía em frente da cidade,
a vida seria incerta.. . improvável. . .
Mas nas águas tranqüilas só há marinheiros fiéis.
Como a esquadra é cordial!
Podemos beber honradamente nossa cerveja.
With our ash
A clear day
and no memories
a birth at dawn
in the heart of the woodland
where foxes and squirrels
roam timelessly
where owls sit out
the sunlight scarcely
stirring until dusk
where the air is dank
from decaying vegetation
damp soil out of which
new growth new life
the sting of nettles
and the beauty
of blue bells
we who are of the earth
must pay our dues
with our love
with our ash
John Lyons
Parting at morning
Parting at morning
The beauty of beauty
innocence in an age
of experience
a fresh wistful face
as yet unlined by life
a body scarcely knowing love
details yet to be added
language without words
she on the verge
of womanhood
the purity of the body
as yet unveiled
in the rite of love
simplicity of the pose
the dress and hair
an almost boyish look
slant of the shoulders
her top rolled down
but barely revealing
the simplicity
of the pleated skirt
elegance of the arms
relaxed by her side
we wonder what
became of her
with her quizzical smile
and where she went
when she left
the painter’s life
John Lyons
This painting may be viewed at Tate Britain.
In praise of peace
A clear day
and no memories
I sip coffee at daybreak and
stare out at the ragged horizon
drawn by the ancient woodland
Overnight it rained gently
but enough to subdue
the giving earth—
summer is its busy season
so much bloom and blossom
so much fruit on the vine
so many nests to find
for new arrivals
from distant lands
I hear the constant coo
of pigeons and the thin
trill of the dawn chorus
as nature stakes its claim
to a life of peace
Wherever
there is war in this world
the birds will always
rise above it
John Lyons
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