Oak Galls
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
Autumn this year is a rabbit affair
and no eye can distinguish
the shivering season from the shaking beast.
Shifty, all yellow,
autumn-dweller color.
Dead leaves and stubble
on hillside and swamp-stump
everywhere, and even the eye
blinks blindly, not knowing
one quick shiver of fear
from another.
—Velimir Khlebnikov, 1915
(Translated from the Russian by Paul Schmidt)
____________________
THUNDERSTORM FOR A MOMENT FOREVER
—Boris Pasternak, 1917
Then aferwards summertime waved goodbye
To the railroad crossing. That night hatless
Thunder took a hundred blinding snapshots
In order to have something to remember.
A branch of lilac darkened. Then thunder
Snatched a sheaf of lightning from the fields
And in a single moment blazed a monument
Of light upon the dazzled county courthouse.
And when the gutters of the courthouse overflowed
With waves of some perverse delight
And the cloudburst descended like streaks
Of charcoal across the face of a drawing,
Collapsing consciousness began to blink:
Illumination! Illumination! Even
For those corners of the mind
That now seem full of light as noon.
(Translated from the Russian by Paul Schmidt)
__________________
ARRIVAL
—William Carlos Williams
And yet one arrives somehow,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her dress
in a strange bedroom—
feels the autumn
dropping its silk and linen leaves
about her ankles.
The tawdry veined body emerges
twisted upon itself
like a winter wind...!
____________________
THE GEESE
—Miroslav Holub
In hesitant file
between cottage and heath
they strut and seek
what cannot be found.
Week after week
one by one they disappear
and white feathers swirl
through the kitchen air.
In hesitant file
those left once more waddle
keeping the empty space
swaying
in the middle.
Week after week
between cottage and heath
each one of them hopes
with its final breath:
now this time quite surely
the goose world wil change
and with wings extended
far and wide we shall range.
With wings extended
far and wide we shall range.
(Translated from the Czech by Ewald Qsers)
Today Miroslav Holub would have been 84 years old.
_____________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.) For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com).
and no eye can distinguish
the shivering season from the shaking beast.
Shifty, all yellow,
autumn-dweller color.
Dead leaves and stubble
on hillside and swamp-stump
everywhere, and even the eye
blinks blindly, not knowing
one quick shiver of fear
from another.
—Velimir Khlebnikov, 1915
(Translated from the Russian by Paul Schmidt)
____________________
THUNDERSTORM FOR A MOMENT FOREVER
—Boris Pasternak, 1917
Then aferwards summertime waved goodbye
To the railroad crossing. That night hatless
Thunder took a hundred blinding snapshots
In order to have something to remember.
A branch of lilac darkened. Then thunder
Snatched a sheaf of lightning from the fields
And in a single moment blazed a monument
Of light upon the dazzled county courthouse.
And when the gutters of the courthouse overflowed
With waves of some perverse delight
And the cloudburst descended like streaks
Of charcoal across the face of a drawing,
Collapsing consciousness began to blink:
Illumination! Illumination! Even
For those corners of the mind
That now seem full of light as noon.
(Translated from the Russian by Paul Schmidt)
__________________
ARRIVAL
—William Carlos Williams
And yet one arrives somehow,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her dress
in a strange bedroom—
feels the autumn
dropping its silk and linen leaves
about her ankles.
The tawdry veined body emerges
twisted upon itself
like a winter wind...!
____________________
THE GEESE
—Miroslav Holub
In hesitant file
between cottage and heath
they strut and seek
what cannot be found.
Week after week
one by one they disappear
and white feathers swirl
through the kitchen air.
In hesitant file
those left once more waddle
keeping the empty space
swaying
in the middle.
Week after week
between cottage and heath
each one of them hopes
with its final breath:
now this time quite surely
the goose world wil change
and with wings extended
far and wide we shall range.
With wings extended
far and wide we shall range.
(Translated from the Czech by Ewald Qsers)
Today Miroslav Holub would have been 84 years old.
_____________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.) For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com).
