Emne: Re: Poetisk fryd..
Mere Seamus Heaney, jeg er faldet i armene på hans poesi og hviler godt i den :))
The Rain Stick
for Beth and Rand
Upend the rain stick and what happens next
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk
Downpour, sluice–rush, spillage and backwash
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
And diminuendo runs through all its scales
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
Then glitter–drizzle, almost breaths of air.
Upend the stick again. What happens next
Is undiminished for having happened once,
Twice, ten, a thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires
Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
På min vej faldt jeg over hende her ...
Are like the wart-hogs
In the zoo
It's hard to say
Why there should be such creatures
But once our life gets into them
As sometimes happens
Turn into living things
And there's no arguing
With living things
The way they are
May be rough
They have inside them
A confluence of cries
And secret languages
They are improvident
A kind of Sabbath
On sooty fire escapes
And window ledges
They wander in and out
Of jails and gardens
In the deep mines
In breaking waves
And rock like wooden cradles.
... og her er hun, næsten 100 år gammel og med masser af liv i øjnene :))