Out of the mouth of babes

My life lived by water
by the mystic river
that runs like a thread
through eternity
Today shrouded in mist
it holds secrets never
meant to be revealed
For what purpose are we
here on the banks watching
the deep waters make their way
out to the unfathomable ocean?
We who are the anomaly
the only species out of place
in the grand scheme of things
Why do we so full of sense
and sensibility make endless
war and fight over territories
we were born to share?
We see through the glass darkly
unwilling to fully open our eyes   
blind to the natural simplicities
of love and peace all around us
deaf to the message that issues
from the mouth of babes

John Lyons


De la bouche des enfants

Ma vie vécue au bord de l’eau,
près de la rivière mystique
qui coule comme un fil à travers
l’éternité. Aujourd’hui, enveloppée
de brume, elle recèle des secrets
qui ne devraient jamais être révélés.
Pourquoi sommes-nous là, sur les rives,
à regarder les eaux profondes se frayer
un chemin vers l’océan insondable ?
Nous qui sommes l’anomalie,
la seule espèce déplacée
dans le grand ordre des choses.
Pourquoi, si pleins de bon sens
et de sensibilité, faisons-nous
des guerres et des combats sans fin
pour des territoires que nous sommes
nés pour partager ? Nous voyons
à travers le verre obscur, refusant
d’ouvrir pleinement les yeux, aveugles
à la simplicité naturelle de l’amour
et de la paix qui nous entourent,
sourds au message qui sort
de la bouche des enfants.

Lorine Niedecker – a simple life

I think of Lorine her life
on the edge of water

the gliding river
or lake or swamp

and the simplicity
and the beauty of the poetry

she made from leaves
or broken reeds

floating on the surface
from carp swimming below

the hum of summer
and the slow burn of time

the hours fishing the shallows
with a hook and line

and the silent words
seeping into her soul

John Lyons


Lorine Niedecker – un coeur simple

Je pense à Lorine, à sa vie
au bord de l’eau,

au murmure de la rivière,
du lac ou du marais

et à la simplicité et
à la beauté de la poésie

qu’elle composait
avec des feuilles

ou des roseaux brisés
flottant à la surface,

au-dessus des carpes
qui nageaient en dessous

au bourdonnement de l’été
et à la lenteur du temps

aux heures passées à pêcher
dans les eaux peu profondes,

à la ligne, et aux mots silencieux
qui s’infiltraient dans son âme

The bare truth

The bare truth
of naked winter trees
Nothing lasts forever
Nothing is ever lost

The leaves will return
in the springtime
blossom followed by
all kinds of fruit

Just as the river runs
so the seasons
take their turn
Nothing changes
Nothing is ever
the same

John Lyons


La vérité nue

La vérité nue
des arbres d’hiver nus :
rien ne dure éternellement,
rien ne se perd jamais.

Les feuilles reviendront
au printemps,
suivies des fleurs et
de toutes sortes de fruits.

Tout comme la rivière coule,
les saisons se succèdent.
Rien ne change,
rien n’est jamais pareil.

Beauty in the eye

In the stillness
in the silence
I watch the river flow
smoothly heading
out to sea

Times lived here
deep in the memory
Times that will never
return

The sacrifices we make
for poetry and for love
The  significance we lend
to the universe

The warmth of her hand
the warmth of her lips
these are the true treasures
Beauty in the eye

John Lyons


La beauté dans les yeux

Dans le calme,
dans le silence,
je contemple le fleuve
qui coule paisiblement
vers la mer.

Des moments vécus ici,
gravés au plus profond
de ma mémoire, des moments
à jamais révolus.

Les sacrifices que nous faisons
pour la poésie et pour l’amour,
le sens que nous donnons
à l’univers.

La chaleur de sa main,
la chaleur de ses lèvres :
voilà les vrais trésors.
La beauté dans les yeux

Fickle moon

As the sun sets
so the day sags
evenings can be
so long

stars so distant
and the moon
so fickle

At dawn the silence
is broken – foxes
gnashing their teeth

sparrows restless
in their nests – magpies
already getting down
to business

I have places to go
things to do and
words to say such as
I love you

John Lyons


Alors que le soleil se couche
alors le jour s’affaisse
les soirées peuvent être
si longues

les étoiles si lointaines
et la lune
si inconstante

A l’aube le silence
est cassé – les renards
grincent des dents

les moineaux agités
dans leurs nids – les pies
déjà au travail

j’ai des endroits où aller
des choses à faire et
des mots à dire comme
Je t’aime

An idle world

The first heavy frost
of the season
windows and roofs
and ponds all iced up

I notice the silence
of the birds
the stillness
in the garden –

the cats must be
having a lie in
the plump foxes
are nowhere

to be seen
Sometimes it’s
an idle world and
that’s a good thing

John Lyons

Lorine Niedecker : an appreciation

niedecker

Lorine Niedecker : an appreciation

As night fell
           and the waters calmed
the churn of words
           within her

He fished the river
           his glass never empty
small fry he caught
           but he was there

the poetry buried
           within her
the thoughts
           and the feelings

guided by the stars
           darkness was a revelation
love might never come but
           breath most precious of all

John Lyons

 

Simplicity

simplicity
Simplicity, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Simplicity

Poetry —many things
          including a place
of repose
          when we are time-sick
Soon the leaves
          will come tumbling
down in cascades
          borne on gusts of wind
raked up and bagged
          on our streets

And as the nights
          close in
peace will descend
          and we will have
sessions of sweet
          silent thought
and true value
          will warm our blood

John Lyons

Blessings

song sparrow
The song sparrow

Blessings

Rainy day
          In the silence
         yellow warblers
and wild canaries
                  Bushes in bloom
                  honeysuckle
                  dogwood
                  Japanese quince

A lawn full of dandelions
Two rows of lettuce
         sown today
I get song sparrows
         wrens
                  cardinals
northern yellow-throats

From the kitchen
casement window
         I see fireflies at night
The shade of the Sugar Maple
                  is a blessing

                  one of many

John Lyons


The above poem draws data from two letters written by Lorine Niedecker to Louis Zukofsky.


 

 

Lorine Niedecker

niedecker2
Lorine Niedecker

Lorine Niedecker was born in 1903 in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin, and lived in this wilderness area for most of her life. Her isolation from other writers and the beauty of her natural surroundings had a profound impact on her work. Niedecker chose to write in seclusion, and many of her closest relatives and neighbors were unaware that she was a poet. She had a brief relationship with the poet Louis Zukofsky in New York, but apart from that she continued to live in relative obscurity. In later years she was befriended by the British poet, Basil Bunting, the author of Briggflats, and one-time disciple of Ezra Pound; but for much of her life she lived in poverty, earning her living as a cleaning lady in a Fort Atkinson hospital. Since her death on 31 December 1970, her reputation as one of the most significant American poets of the 20th century has grown enormously. At the core of her writing are terse observations of her rural environment: the birds, trees, water and marshland that surrounded her.


For a selection of Lorine Niedecker’s poems see http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/lorine-niedecker#about


 

John Lyons