A childless, futureless road / And then nothing
Uncut fields and paced-out walls
|Dublin by night|
|Lag||Innehåll||Språk||Day 3||Total Heat 2|
Avslutningsdagen handlar dikterna om vatten.
GALICIEN : Water Of Love Without A Name / Luís González Tosar
In this uncertain light separating our bodies
I’m well aware I’m a sad boat
desirous of shade in an evening harbour,
knocking against rocks and stranger ships,
leaning on acid loneliness for ever,
hearing from time to time the call of a horn
which lifts our waves onto the bow,
magical vision which eats away
at colour and phosphorescence,
in words everything drowns.
PUERTO RICO : from When songs become water / Martin Espada
the poems become songs
and the songs become water
streaming through the arteries
of the earth, where others at the well
will cool the sweat in their hair
and begin to think.
HARLEM : Thirst / Claude McKay
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals gray-white through the windowpane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;
Pure water from a forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!
DUBLIN : Underwater contact / Simon Ó Faoláin
It was not the vision’s ultrasound
That bore your being home to me,
But deep blind sonar of the ear,
The liquid beat of a tiny heart
Exactly like a swishing prop,
And I am a diver once again
Sensing mysterious vessels glide
Upon the surface overhead.
YORKSHIRE : from Canal Life / Ian McMillan
The canal tells you stories
The canal sings you songs
They hang in that space
Between memory and water
Once saw a narrowboat raised up,
Like it was cutting through the air,
Between two grass walls and the road below
Like it was sliding through history,
And a tiny vole swam across the water
So a tiny vole swam through history.
BASKIEN : Water dreams (III) / Miren Agur Meabe
Your voice on the phone is water.
A glass on the side table.
I fell asleep looking at it.
Water floods the bed.
My nightdress swells, I drift
towards a lighthouse,
where you happen to be,
writing an email to me.
Subject: “Water, please.”
(Is my voice water to you?)
I open my eyes. I stretch my arm out. The glass falls.
The pieces on the ground spell your name.
I wake up wet.
FÄRÖARNA : ur Regn / Rói Patursson
det regnar i valparaiso
och den kalla vätan piskar
ögonblicken till döds
det regnar i tórshavn
och terrorbalansen speglas i vägen
det regnar på tonsättaren
och rytmerna drunknar i notbladet
det regnar på biblioteket
och det är otätt mellan teori och praktik