A curious dawn

A curious dawn with sun on the river
Light that will be borne out into
the perpetual sea  Winter nights
are long but they never last
and the frost on the roofs rarely
remains beyond mid-morning
Time and the river and the heart
that never stops beating   the heart
that is moved by love that lives for love

There are squirrels playing
in the trees young ones trying
to catch their tails  oblivious to
the magpies that come and go
oblivious to the games 
of the innocent boisterous school
children enjoying their break
in the icy air  I would love to share
this moment with you
                      if you were here

John Lyons


Une aube curieuse

Une aube curieuse, le soleil sur la rivière,
une lumière qui se répandra dans
la mer éternelle. Les nuits d’hiver
sont longues, mais elles passent toujours,
et le givre sur les toits rarement perdure
jusqu’au milieu de la matinée. Le temps et
la rivière et le cœur qui ne cesse de battre,
ce cœur mû par l’amour, qui vit pour l’amour.

Des écureuils jouent dans les arbres,
des petits essayant d’attraper leur queue,
insouciants des pies qui vont et viennent,
insouciants des jeux des écoliers innocents
et turbulents qui profitent de leur récréation
dans l’air glacial. J’aimerais tant partager
ce moment avec toi si tu étais là.

Who before dying?

Who before dying would not
wish for eternal life
would not hunger and thirst
for continued experience
would not wish to repair
the damage done or
the opportunities lost
or savour once again
those moments of passion
that so thrilled the body and
moved the soul to ecstasy
Who before dying would not
wish to explore fresh pastures
renew old acquaintances and
strike up fresh friendships with
a thousand unknown faces
Who before dying would not
wish to see an end to all wars
and the burial of all enmity
in which peace and justice
envelope the entire world
with a proud and enduring
mantle of love Who indeed?

John Lyons


Qui, avant de mourir?

Qui, avant de mourir,
ne souhaiterait pas la vie éternelle,
n’aurait pas faim et soif de nouvelles
expériences, ne désirerait pas
réparer les dégâts causés
ou les occasions manquées,
ou savourer à nouveau
ces moments de passion qui
ont tant fait vibrer le corps
et transporté l’âme en extase ?
Qui, avant de mourir,
ne souhaiterait pas explorer
de nouveaux horizons, renouer
de vieilles connaissances et nouer
de nouvelles amitiés avec mille inconnus ?
Qui, avant de mourir,
ne souhaiterait pas voir la fin
de toutes les guerres et l’enterrement
de toute inimitié, et que la paix
et la justice enveloppent le monde
entier d’un manteau d’amour
fier et durable ? Qui donc ?

The price of love

How bright the day
in its winter coldness
northerly winds tearing
at the almost bare branches
I’m old enough to remember
what is was like to be young
to shiver in the mornings
as I dressed for school
to run home at the end
of the day to the welcome
warmth of a coal fire burning
in the hearth  Stars rain
sun moon the shifting seasons
that carried us into adulthood
In the mirror I observe that life
has left its marks on my face
where the years sag around
the eyes – the deep lines etched
on the brow from a wealth
of experience and the one
lesson learned that love
is always the price of love

John Lyons


Le prix de l’amour

Qu’est-ce que la journée est
lumineuse dans son froid hivernal,
les vents du nord déchirant
les branches presque nues.
Je suis assez âgé pour me souvenir
de ce que c’était que d’être jeune,
de frissonner le matin en m’habillant
pour l’école, de courir à la maison
à la fin de la journée vers la chaleur
accueillante d’un feu de charbon
brûlant dans la cheminée.
Les étoiles, la pluie, le soleil, la lune,
le changement des saisons,
autant de souvenirs qui nous ont
accompagnés jusqu’à l’âge adulte.
Dans le miroir, je constate
que la vie a laissé ses marques
sur mon visage, où les années
creusent le contour de mes yeux,
les rides profondes gravées
sur mon front par une riche
expérience et une seule leçon
apprise : que l’amour es toujours
le prix de l’amour.

If among infants playing

If among infants playing
amid the blue light of day
a shadow falls upon the lawn
across from Rochester Castle
who will say that every innocence
shall have its day and every season
shall come to pass just as
the chestnut sheds its leaves
and the earth is open
to all things that fall
and that even the rivers
will one day tire as they
make their way to the sea
Young limbs that tremble
with excitement will come
to know the tremor of love
before their Aprils cease
and all is silence
all is stillness
and all is at an end

John Lyons


Si, parmi les enfants qui jouent

Si, parmi les enfants qui jouent,
sous la douce lumière du jour,
une ombre se pose sur la pelouse
devant le château de Rochester,
qui osera affirmer que chaque innocence
aura son heure de gloire,
et que chaque saison passera
comme le châtaignier perd ses feuilles,
et que la terre est ouverte
à tout ce qui tombe,
et que même les rivières se lasseront
en chemin vers la mer ?
Les jeunes corps qui tremblent
d’excitation connaîtront
le frisson de l’amour
avant que leur printemps ne s’achève,
et que tout ne devienne silence,
que tout ne devienne immobilité,
et que tout ne soit terminé.

Child of nature

How strange that you are hereless   Like the wind
gone   leaving the sky   the earth   the green world
in your wake   wordless in the chill silence
When I was a child I dreamt as a child
and lived a life about which I knew no-
thing   I ate   slept  played 
                           learned what I was taught
loved the fields  the grass   the trees   the woodlands
anything that kept me close to nature
thought that cities were places where people
went to die   But you I loved   step by step
I grew into your smile  your tenderness
my eyes   my ears   always attentive to
the simplicity and ease with which you
negotiated each hour of the day

John Lyons

ee cummings testament

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

The wOrds saD and beauty, the
woRds thORN and desIRe;that si-
lence that is anathemA to musicke, you-
r loVer torn betwEEn a rock and a
hard place;body of love laid snug
to rest;inTemPerate riSe and faLL
of quickSilver.Stay A while and I
will take your baroMetriC press-
ure;a feBrile finGer strays upon y-
our impulse.O lord, lead us into temp-
tation,bEforE it is tOO late.But for
the worDs,beTimes, all is dusT.

18 April 2005

John Lyons

The year ending

40 x 40_Tiny dancer
                                  Tiny dancer, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

The living dance
upon dead minds
believe in moon magic
threaten to destroy
the earth with misplaced
enthusiasms and dreams

Time is no refuge
and no doors can
remain bolted forever
Pick up your spoons
and dig into the daily
gruel and accept the cards
you have been dealt

The only splendour
here below is love
but remember it cannot
be put into words nor
can it be photographed
Disdain all those
who would betray it
they are not worth the soil
in which they are buried

John Lyons

Everly

The clock strikes Christmas
time beats with an open heart

the moon has climbed
to the top of the stairs

I see it through a window
that peeks out into the future

Somewhere a flower is waking
its perfume will soon spread

as its petals open and so deepen
the earth’s unassailable beauty

In every aspect of every star
of every planet you are loved

my hands – simple as they are
were born to adore you everly

John Lyons

A once world

A once world
without air
without water
without light
without love
without a ghost
of affection
without a dream
or a song
dayless and
skyless

A once world
incipient
in the cosmos
an expectation
an oceanic silence
without words
without gestures
birth awaiting birth
life awaiting life
a deep darkness
awaiting the star
of Bethlehem

John Lyons

Thicker than blood

Love thicker than blood
deeper than any sea
freer than any air
an incandescent fire

sky cannot shelter it
nor the moon illuminate
its furthest actions or
its deeper recesses

love longer than time
more encompassing
than any space
more succinct

than any word
No battle can ever
defeat it no betrayal
ever taint it

Love thicker than blood
more compelling
than any kiss
love is what it is

John Lyons