That mirror moment

Hard cold cruelty
           of the mirror
true friend of time
           harshest critic
inflexible judgment
           how thin
how destructive
           your silver lining
as you throw back
           in our faces
every wrinkle
           every line
every error
           of excess

and how you prowl the world
           lurking
in every unexpected corner
           ready to pounce
in halls and bathrooms
           hotels and restaurants
to confront and unnerve us
           when masks have dropped
and we are left alone
           with little more
than our intimate
           loveless reality

John Lyons

Eternal return

In the still world
           on a blue morning
I think of you
           I think of your name
I say it under my breath
           It brings you back to me
for a moment your presence
           your love
all synonyms for the joy
           you brought me
how much I loved
           to mouth your name

I read the poetry of love
           Paul Éluard out loud
outbursts of love and light
           and the memory of other births
and a future
           covered in kisses
the impossibility of injustice
           when love chooses love
without flinching
           a straight face
along the narrow path
           that draws you back to me

John Lyons

The French poet Paul Éluard (1895-1952) was mobilised during the First World War. In June 1917, he was dispatched to a military evacuation hospital at Hargnicourt, 10 kilometres from the front line.

There he was tasked with writing to the families of the dead and wounded. He wrote more than 150 letters a day. At night he dug graves to bury the dead.

from Poems for Peace (1918)

A world dazed
a world stunned

I

All the happy women
Have their menfolk home – such warmth
as though back from the sun.
He laughs and says softly hi
Before kissing his darling.

II

Gorgeous, your breast slightly arced,
My blessed wife, you’re more mine than back in the day
Where with him and him and him and him,
I once clutched a rifle, a billy-can— our life!

III

All the comrades of the world,
O! my friends!
Not worth my wife and my kids
Sat around the table,
O! my friends!

IV

When combat was over amid the throng,
You fell asleep amid the throng.
Now you’ll feel but a single breath on your face,
And your wife sharing your bed
Will bother you more than a thousand mouths.

V

My child’s capricious –
All these tantrums are an act.
I’ve a beautiful spoilt child
Makes me die laughing.

VI

Work.
My ten fingers work and my brain works,
God’s work, beast of burden work,
My daily life and our hope,
Food is our love.
Work.

VII

Darling, we need to see the white rose
of your milk bloom.
Darling, you must soon be a mother,
Make a child that looks like me…

VIII

For a long time I’d a good-for-nothing face,
But now
I’ve a face to be loved,
I’ve a face to be happy.

IX

I need a lover,
A virgin lover,
A virgin in a light dress.

X

I dream of all the beautiful women
Who go out walking at night,
Very calm,
Under a roaming moon.

XI

Fruit blossom brightens my garden,
Trees of beauty and fruit-bearing trees.
And I work and I’m alone in my garden.
And the Sun singes my hands with dark fire.

Translation by John Lyons