fredag 22 augusti 2014

Neither beautiful nor benign

Med risk för att Fågelfredag-inlägget ska försvinna i svallvågorna kring PSTC kommer här tre dikter om mås, tärna och alkfågel.


Fiskmåsar är inga populära djur, förutom i poeternas värld.


The Ballet Of The Fifth Year, by Delmore Schwartz
(From Selected poems: Summer Knowledge. New Directions Publishing Corp., 1938.)

Where the sea gulls sleep or indeed where they fly 

Is a place of different traffic. Although I 
Consider the fishing bay (where I see them dip and curve 
And purely glide) a place that weakens the nerve 
Of will, and closes my eyes, as they should not be 
(They should burn like the street-light all night quietly, 
So that whatever is present will be known to me), 
Nevertheless the gulls and the imagination 
Of where they sleep, which comes to creation 
In strict shape and color, from their dallying 
Their wings slowly, and suddenly rallying 
Over, up, down the arabesque of descent, 
Is an old act enacted, my fabulous intent 
When I skated, afraid of policemen, five years old, 
In the winter sunset, sorrowful and cold, 
Hardly attained to thought, but old enough to know 
Such grace, so self-contained, was the best escape to know.

***

Vi fortsätter med den underbara Ted Hughes och hans dikt om tärnan.

Tern, by Ted Hughes
(From Selected poems. Harlow, Essex Longman [u.a.] 1994.)

The breaker humps its green glass. 

You see the sunrise through it, the wrack dark in it, 
And over it - the bird of sickles 
Swimming in the wind, with oiled spasm. 

That is the tern. A blood-tipped harpoon 

Hollow-ground in the roller-dazzle, 
Honed in the wind-flash, polished 
By his own expertise - 

Now finished and in use. 

The wings - remote-controlled 
By the eyes 
In his submarine swift shadow 

Feint and tilt in their steel. 

Suddenly a triggered magnet 
Connects him downward, through a thin shatter, 
To a sand-eel. He hoists out, with a twinkling, 

Through some other wave-window. 

His eye is a gimlet. 
Deep in the churned grain of the roller 
His brain is a gimlet. He hangs, 

A blown tatter, a precarious word 

In the mouth of ocean pronouncements. 
His meaning has no margin. He shudders 
To the tips of his tail-tines. 

Momentarily, his lit scrap is a shriek.

***

Vi rundar av med en rolig och annorlunda kortdikt om en alkfågel ('auk' på engelska).

An auk in flight, by Jack Prelutsky
(From Beauty of the beast : poems. New York : Alfred A. Knopf : Distributed by Random House, 1997.)

An auk in flight

is sheer delight,
it soars above the sea.

An auk on land

is not so grand--
an auk walks aukwardly.

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