Stargazing

  Dagens andra inlägg är de borttappade orden från i onsdags, med tre vykort från Scottish Poetry Library. Den här gången har jag valt tre dikter ur utgivningen från 2012. Temat var "stars".

Towards the stars, by Iain Crichton Smith (1928-1998)
(from Spaceways: an anthology of space poems, ed. John Foster. Oxford University Press, 1986.)

They slept as they set off for the stars
in their refrigerated beds.

They slept as they passed the planets
and headed for outer space.

The stars watched without moving.
Nothing seemed to move anywhere.

They dreamed no dreams
as the stars kept their endless watch.

Then on a fine morning
they opened like blossoms,

they rose still young from their beds
after a hundred years.

***

  Jag fortsätter med en dikt av författaren bakom "Skattkammarön" och "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde", Robert Louis Stevenson.

Escape at bedtime, by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
(from Poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. New York : Crowell, 1973.)

The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out
Through the blinds and the windows and bars;
And high overhead and all moving about,
There were thousands of millions of stars.
There ne’er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,
Nor of people in church or the Park,
As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,
And that glittered and winked in the dark.

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all,
And the star of the sailor, and Mars,
These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall
Would be half full of water and stars.
They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,
And they soon had me packed into bed;
But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,
And the stars going round in my head.

***

  Jag avslutar med en dikt för barn som påminner lite grann om en ramsa. Den är skriven av James McGonigal.

Little star, by James McGonigal (f. 1947)
(from The Thing that Mattered Most: Scottish poems for children edited by Julie Johnstone. SPL/B&W, 2006.)

Little star, so far, so near,
I see your eye’s one shining tear.

Little star, so wild, so tame,
I waved my hand. You never came.

Little star, so quick, so slow,
you whisper like the drifting snow.

Little star, so dark, so deep
the sea you swim in as I sleep.

When morning comes in like the tide
you will have reached the other side.

Swim, star, swim, through the midnight sea
(when your hair is dry, come back to me!)

Little star, so near, so far,
shine on Wick and Zanzibar

on Dundee, Belfast and Armagh,
and shine on my bike’s bent handlebar

shine like its silver bell
                     dring dring
           shine like its silver bell
                     and sing
                     sharp as a silver bell.