Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
the one you so unfairly ursurped and interrupted
whilst I was being myself around you.
I will sing to it again,
rise up above the alpine air
and smell the fresh snowy day
when I knew it was my tune
and that my time and place had come:
when I had stood outside of myself
in perfect exstasis
and seen that destiny had come a-knocking,
that yesterday was only a tangle of memories
waiting to be undone.
This is already my song today
I have nothing more to win now
and nothing left to lose.
ebrio del gran vacío
a semejanza, a imagen
me sentí parte pura
rodé con las estrellas,
mi corazón se desató en el viento"
- de La poesía, Memorial de Isla Negra
por Pablo Neruda
(*) The following translation is by Alastair Reid
"And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
and my heart broke loose on the wind."
Saturday, January 26, 2008
I suddenly remember
that first tingling of skin
as goosebumps parched the throat
and I became aware of
at the sight of a long haired t.v. man
who played music to my ears
in between glimpses of delight to my eyes.
Dance shimmy shake away I say!
Friday, January 25, 2008
estos días han sido tan tercos conmigo
¿Qué te puedo decir?
Sus horas me odian
Y yo no tengo paciencia con pierdas
(*) I doubt if the translation works, but here goes anyway
these days have been so stubborn with me!
and after all, what can I say?
their hours loathe me
and I don't have any patience with stones
Thursday, January 24, 2008
is not the half a dozen or so dogs
scrambling for a hug or a pet at the sniff of my coat,
it is not the walk down from the road
past the quaintly composed garden
with its archways and cobble-stone-sounding paths,
it is not the sunny chaises basking in your balcony overlooking a bubbling ravine,
not even the wooden steps up to meet you both
or the gravel in the driveway with its octave cowbells,
it is the simple silence that surrounds us,
our glasses tinkling, punctuate our stories
as I imagine a faint hum rising from the Tibetan home beyond.
Monday, January 21, 2008
How easily wrapped around the metal straps of my favourite watch
were the memories I'd divined of my grandfather
in the years since his passing
which from every corner of my mind,
I had gleaned and dusted
and then attached
onto its bright orange dial.
How resolute they all looked there, side by side
the green digits neatly arranged around the circle of their hands!
Shining back at me through every one of my trials and tribulations,
they had joined together to bring me luck
and to soothe my pain
everytime the seconds hand
glided over effortlessly collecting moments like faery dust
for the sprinkling of a little girl not ten years old.
taking with it,
for all the time in the world,
the time I'll never have again.