DAWN
Slowly
as a poem writes itself
daybreak comes
from nothing into being
disposes of silence
and brings light
everywhere arises green
victuals for the sun
which from the earth
no other darkness removes
but the night.
***
DO NOT follow the stars of the night
but go upstream following the darkness
earthly and palpable
don’t save the alms
share bread and wine
with the nomads of the night
throw roses in the break of day.
***
THE STARS are hardly more
than dispersed fragments
of an invisible unity
Resisting all questions
about what disappears
or continues to exist
just as in the stem of the autumn tree
although invisible
the blossom is already present.
QUESTION
Earth, are you still more
than a spark of the primal light
a mutilated boulder
lost in the universe?
The golden calf
unwinged the angel
and the ruler
–as prophet disguised–
spreads lies as truth
barely audible remains
the familiar wingbeat
the double pulse of the heart.
HOPE
Since many months no rain
they suffer
but still they are green
because without hope
neither they can live
– the trees.
LIFE
Like an ephemeral flower
like a handful of snow
which for a moment glitters in the sun
and melts
slowly seeps away
merges with
and again becomes
-earth.
EAGLE
The ravens fly in swarms
the eagle flies alone
Luchino Visconti
So close to heaven
flies the eagle
lonely
as the poet
who patiently waits
the arrival of a verse
till the pen
scratches finally a few a few lines
still doubting
the sense
the idleness
of naming.
WHAT ELSE…
What else
searches the word for
in the sediment of the verse
if not for the impalpable
– which exists
just as the water of the river
escapes the hand
but learns its limits in the jar
conserves its form
and refreshes
as sometimes does
a poem
SHANGHAI
Unmoved flowing
between past and present:
the river
reflecting at dusk
the heaven-defying towers
the colourful, ephemeral glitter
nameless
the testament
the stone trace of men.
WRITING POETRY
Find the bottom
at the bottomless
read the hours
in the whirlpool
of time
experience silence
not as a void
but as fullness
unfold light
with the shadows
of the night
span a bridge
with unspoken words
create a rainbow
with the colours of peace.
SEARCHING FOR LIGHT
(To Hugo Mujica)
Although the roots
searching for water
embrace each other
and the branches
searching for light
draw apart
the branches
will encounter the light
but the roots
nothing but darkness.
A LITTLE HAPPINESS
Cancelled
the appointment:
a dove
– coming from who knows where –
perches
no olive or laurel twig
in her beak
but more
than is visible
a grasp of time.
THE INDIAN GIPSY WOMAN
Soundless her slender silhouette
she doesn’t touch the floor
she floats
only the jingle of her anklets
reveals her graceful walk
(I close my eyes)
She shows up in a Spanish gypsy place
and dances the most fervent soleares
stimulated by the breathtaking guitar music
Eye and heart blinding
the whirling of passion, colour and eroticism
Even the wooden floor trembles of desire
under her naked feet
She stamps, hops and hovers
pulls and tears at her crimson dress
which once in a while reveals a glimpse
– no more
not even in the dream.
TENDER LOVE POEM
The wind blew through your hair
and I was jealous
because the wind alike
I couldn’t caress all your hair.
FEELINGS OF SPRING
You recognized spring
by its green
and by the psalms of the birds
so high there in the air
and you invented things
which had been forgotten so long
painted images
with the twinkling light
not only of the morning dew
but also of the dream
BORROWED DOWN
With its hand of shadow and darkness
unraveled the evening,
the defenseless light
unraveled the future,
the magic,
the borrowed dawn,
pulled out of the wick,
shed the oil,
extinguished time.
TODESFUGE (FUGE OF DEATH)
(To Donald Trump, Boris Johnson, Jair Bolsonaro…)
Death, we drink you,
we drink you with our eyes,
we drink you with our ears
we drink you day by day
Deaths
no time is left to say good bye,
no time to dig your graves
The leaders paved the road
with hypocrisy and dazzling lies
Death, we drink you,
we drink you with our eyes,
we drink you with our ears
we drink you day by day.
––––––––––––-
*Todesfuge (Fuge of death),
poem by Paul Celan about the Jews killed by the Nazis
LONELY GOODBYE
(for those who, wherever, have to die lonely)
Chilly the room
the white walls
audible only
the echo of loneliness.
Not a tender word anymore
no warm embrace
just the time,
a leaking tap,
ticking.
None knocking at the door
nobody you expect,
no one, except death.
–––––––––––
Germain DROGENBROODT
Altea, Spain, October 2020