MAKE ME A PICTURE OF THE SUN

MAKE ME A PICTURE OF THE SUN

Make me a picture of the sun
So I can hang it in my room
And make believe I’m getting warm
When others call it “Day”
When others call it “Day”

Draw me a Robin on a stem
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream,
And when the Orchards stop their tune
Put my pretense away
My pretense away
Draw me a Robin on a stem
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream.

Draw me a robin on stem
Make me a picture of your sun

Say if it’s really warm at noon
Whether it’s Buttercups that “skim”
Or Butterflies that “bloom”?
Then skip the frost upon the lea
And skip the Russet on the tree
Let’s play those never come!
This sun.

Draw me a Robin on a stem
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream,
And when the Orchards stop their tune
Put my pretense away
My pretense away
Draw me a Robin on a stem
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream.

SABLES MOUVANTS

Et toi
Comme les sables qui je foule aux pieds en courant
Et toi
Dans les algues tu glisses et je rie insolente

Avant mon miroir
Gouffres dorés
Sur ton visage les eaux sont débordées

Mais dans tes bois méconnus
Des bourgeons ont brillé

Avant mon miroir
Branches dorées
Des bourgeons pour m’enivrer.

BOTH WITH THEE

The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.

For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, sinks down to death…

Until life’s composition be recured
By those swift messengers return’d from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.

For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, sinks down to death…

FÉROCE ET RIDICULE

L’Amour est assis sur le crâne
De l’Humanité,
Et sur ce trône le profane,
Au rire effronté,

Souffle gaiement des bulles rondes
Qui montent dans l’air,
Comme pour rejoindre les mondes
Au fond de l’éther.

Le globe lumineux et frêle
Prend un grand essor,
Crève et crache son âme grêle
Comme un songe d’or.

J’entends le crâne à chaque bulle
Prier et gémir
“Ce jeu féroce et ridicule,
Quand doit-il finir?”

Car ce que ta bouche cruelle
Eparpille en l’air,
Monstre assassin, c’est ma cervelle,
Mon sang et ma chair!»

CHILL

At the still point of the turning world. Chill.

Dead is the sun and blind is the day
It’s time for leaving, it’s time to lay
Will I forget this warm falling night?
Will I remember the scent of this light?

Tendril and spray, clutch and cling. Chill, chill, chill.

Goldenrain trees won’t shelter my neck,
leaves can’t force back fatal-winds.
They filter sounds and light,
and is silent, the light is still
at the still point of the turning world. Chill.

14th AUGUST, A SUMMER STORM

Rest in silence on this patio
Listen to the summer storm
Every sound is like a recall
In the glowing evening’s lightI would crawl in the ground
For a while

Flowing mountain of quicksilver
Fading veils of misty clouds
In the shrine beyond the river
Lidless stares of fallen saints

I would lay on this roof
For a while

When it rains
On the fern
In the wood
I hear new words
I hear new words.

Purple blossom will turn on my heart
As the pollen will poison my mind
Greenish tang will fall from lands unknown
And the streaming rain will hit my face like a rabid kiss of God

When it rains
On the fern
In the wood
I hear new words
I hear new words.

BLEEDIN’

My mother groaned, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt;
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Like a fiend hidBleedin’, take me for a while
Take me for a while

Struggling in my father’s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bleedin’, take me for a while
Take me for a while

Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother’s breast
Bleedin’, take me for a while, take me for a while.

PAMPHLET

Salto i passi per poi rincorrere
L’idea che sia la via più semplice
Se arrendersi è deplorevole
Soddisferò la tua curiosità

Non ho più fiato per rispondere
Nel vento un’eco parla già per me
Nemmeno servirà un interprete
Che importa poi se capiranno?

Potrei mai fingere di divertirmi
Mentre conto i battiti seduta qui?
Preferirei se sotto al tavolo ci fosse un albero
Trentatré lire e un organo
E scriverei un piccolo pamphlet
Che non dica più di ciò che già c’è

Non ho più fiato per rispondere
Nel vento un’eco parla già per me
Nemmeno servirà un interprete
Che importa poi, mi capiranno