Daffni's Poetry
From Writers of the World
These two are from my collection Sun On The Hill. 'The Storm' is actually an English version of one I wrote first in French. I was in France at the time. Wouldn't attempt it now, but think I'll post it here before the English version. I still prefer the French original.
[edit] L'ORAGE
La montaigne est devenue amoureuse du ciel
Et donc les éléments nous ont oubliés.
Les nuages gris sont déscendus chez elle,
Lui ont caché la tête et voilé les pieds.
Là-haut, bien au delà de nos orreilles,
Ils ont fait de l'amour, le ciel et sa montaigne.
Ici, dans la vallée, il n'y-a pas de soleil;
Même la rivière se tait et le monde s'éloigne.
Ecoute, mon cher, fais pas de bruit.
Le ciel a pleuré, et ses larmes tombent
Sur les arbres comme le pluie.
La montaigne est devenue amoureuse du ciel
Et donc les éléments nous ont oubliés.
Les nuages gris sont déscendus chez elle,
Lui ont caché la tête et voilé les pieds.
Là-haut, bien au delà de nos orreilles,
Ils ont fait de l'amour, le ciel et sa montaigne.
Ici, dans la vallée, il n'y-a pas de soleil;
Même la rivière se tait et le monde s'éloigne.
Ecoute, mon cher, fais pas de bruit.
Le ciel a pleuré, et ses larmes tombent
Sur les arbres comme le pluie.
[edit] THE STORM
The mountain has fallen in love
with the wide imperturbable sky
And has summoned the clouds
To shroud her face from our eyes.
Behind the grey cloud curtains,
ragged and rent by the storm,
they have made love –
the sky and his mountain.
Here in the cwm all is still
even the river is silent and the pain
of the world recedes and darkens.
Listen, my love, hush and harken –
the sky is weeping and his tears
fall on the trees as rain.
[edit] A ROBIN ON A LEARNING CURVE
Today, in the snow
that has cut me off from
postman and the world,
a robin came to feed
and tried to emulate the tits,
who hang from one leg
beside their nut-rich lunch
or suspend themselves inverted
on the fat-filled shell
that dangles from a branch.
In pity for his plight
I fixed a tray into the tree
with porridge oats and seeds
that he might dine
in style and safety.
Amid the swirling snow,
a swirling cloud of birds
descended on the tray,
finches, tits and sparrows
delighted with the feast.
News spreads fast
in a bird’s eye view
when food is of the essence.
And the robin?
With frantic fluttering of wings
and stabbing bill
he’s still practising
precarious acrobatics --
a new apprentice
to an awkward skill.
