(no subject)

[kamomil]

I maintain flaviacosma.com and Flavia is a poet. I'm not a literary genius, so I don't really end up understanding poetry all the time.

Let's not take upon ourselves

Let's not take upon ourselves

The burdens of Heaven;

Let's not shield the small birds

Groping their way along the window,

Nor shelter emaciated squirrels

Begging with huge eyes

Upon leafless branches.

Let's not spread our souls like carpets,

For so many souls who wander the world,

Because

If we wither under their torment,

No one could ever

Break us free from our spells.

Without fault, God

Carries out the Law.

In His Grace

He takes care of us all.

Under sheets of ice enclosing the earth like a coat,

His unseen Hand provides

For the birds in flight

In winter.

The Oldest of the Old

The oldest of old people

And newly born infants

Share equally

The same vague look.

Where do they walk

A path together?

And where do they meet?

In which all-glorious place?

The figure, the colors, the voice,

Sift one after another later on,

According to how the winds blow in Eternity,

According to how the claws of time scrape.

God has promised

And lets you choose

Both shortcomings and gifts

From the ancestors' garden:

The fretting, the vanity,

The arrogance, the cowardice,

The bravery, the joy.

In your small chest you gather everything

And grow up with it, straighter or more twisted,

Only to give it back

When the hour comes

On the high, clay threshold.

Why then the dying

Disgusts us so deeply?

Melt your heart, Stone,

And you Sky take pity

In the presence of this very short journey;

You who are almost immortal

Like the Gods,

Hoard all the world's seeds

In vast granaries

And devotedly save

The sacred wine of living

In holy ewers.

Study well your words, Soul,

Because all things scatter, blown in the wind;

Raise for yourself, from words, a lasting statue,

Build wisely a solid foundation,

A dam against dissonant, frantic tremors,

That the turbid waters

May not raze your creation

From the earth's face.

Reconciliation


Both birds and shadows

Cross over our skies,

Scouring, they waylay our path.

Give me your hand, friend,

I have a lot to pay you back for;

Wipe off your sweat,

Drop your mask,

And look --

I've crammed the barns,

My casks are filled,

The grape boils on the vine,

Heavenly, the tree

Weaves its silks.

Choose!

Take all if you wish!

Your time is short and it lures you;

Be greedy,

Get drunk with the sun,

With words and with wine;

Leave only the thought,

Leave only the longing,

To stay a little longer

And keep me company;

Now the thought,

Then the longing;

Now the bird

And the shadow;

Then the moment

And the cloud.

The End of the World

It seems that the end of the world is nearing

When tens of thousands of birds

Suddenly fall from the sky,

The silky burden covers the plains

Like a downy carpet

A funereal jewel.

Armies of freckled and shaggy insects

Quickly invade young trees,

Driving tunnels through soft barks to the cores,

Hurried mandibles penetrate live flesh;

Exhausted forests wither and die.

People of means copy their own likeness,

Chimeras they build from the dust -

Children of women unborn,

Lie in white test tubes,

Impatiently, in wait.

December, January, February,

Another year passes in three months;

Alien grief clings to my clothes,

Fear, like a sigh, penetrates all my pores,

Question marks thrust onto my forehead

Like a red, thorny wreath.