I've been consumed by all the little and big things here, reading and thinking plenty but not able to make any sense of any of it, not yet. How about a quick poem?
A Quick Poem by Adam Zagajewski
I was listening to Gregorian chants
in a speeding car
on a highway in France.
The trees rushed past. Monks' voices
sang praises to an unseen God
(at dawn, in a chapel trembling with cold).
Domine, exaudi orationem meam,
male voices pleaded calmly
as if salvation were just growing in the garden.
Where was I going? Where was the sun hiding?
My life lay tattered
on both sides of the road, brittle as a paper map.
With the sweet monks
I made my way toward the clouds, deep blue,
heavy, dense,
toward the future, the abyss,
gulping hard tears of hail.
Far from dawn. Far from home.
In place of walls - sheet metal.
Instead of a vigil - a flight.
Travel instead of remembrance.
A quick poem instead of a hymn.
A small, tired star raced
up ahead
and the highway's asphalt shone,
showing where the earth was,
where the horizon's razor lay in wait,
and the black spider of evening
and night, widow of so many dreams.
(translated by Clare Cavanagh)
where the horizon's razor lay in wait = brilliant.
Posted by: Greer | May 16, 2011 at 10:52 AM
Terrific x
Posted by: davyh | May 17, 2011 at 06:28 AM
the whole book is x.
Posted by: Greer | May 17, 2011 at 10:34 AM
"Travel instead of remembrance"
Its a a human life , we have to travel , whats evern happened in our life. Thanks for this poem.
Posted by: hard plastic kiddie pool | May 26, 2011 at 07:50 AM
I'm glad to know you liked it, thanks for the comment.
Posted by: Greer | May 26, 2011 at 11:32 AM