12:25 am
Verbālās dzejas klātbūtne ikdienā ir krietni mazinājusies, un, manuprāt, tas tikai labi. Toties dzejnieks (Gregory Orr), kura dzejolis bija pirmais angliskais dzejolis, kurš man patika, (un kurš bērnībā medībās nejauši nogalināja savu brāli, kas iezīmē daudz ko no tā, kā viņš raksta) ir uzrakstījis arī kaut ko šādu:(var arī apskatīt jauku video, kur redzama viņa māja, kaķi un darba mājelīte, kā arī viņa izpratne par mākslu un dzīvi, kuru lielā mērā palīdzējis veidot tieši traģiskais negadījums ar brāli: http://youtu.be/fYCDXUeHVfc man liekas, viņa agrās un personiskās attiecības ar nāvi ir viens svarīgs iemesls, kāpēc viņam izdevies saprast, kas ir dzīve)
Tin Cup
Here's a tin cup
furred with rust.
Here's a bad heart
I've lugged this far.
Begging? No.
Hauling with me
all a mortal has.
You think I'm grim
and thin, wizened
as a dry stick.
You think I've come
to bore you
with a long story
of torment.
And yet I swear
I love this earth
that scars and scalds,
that burns my feet.
And even hell is holy.
un vēl viens man mīļš
The River
I felt both pleasure and a shiver
as we undressed on the slippery bank
and then plunged into the wild river.
I waded in; she entered as a diver.
Watching her pale flanks slice the dark
I felt both pleasure and a shiver.
Was this a source of the lake we sought, giver
of itself to that vast, blue expanse?
We'd learn by plunging into the wild river
and letting the current take us wherever
it willed. I had that yielding to thank
for how I felt both pleasure and a shiver.
But what she felt and saw I'll never
know: separate bodies taking the same risk
by plunging together into the wild river.
Later, past the rapids, we paused to consider
if chance or destiny had brought us here;
whether it was more than pleasure and a shiver
we'd found by plunging into the wild river.