Lughnasadh

“Autumn
Autumn is always too early.
The peonies are still blooming, bees
are still working out ideal states,
and the cold bayonets of autumn
suddenly glint in the fields and the wind
rages.

What is its origin? Why should it destroy
dreams, arbors, memories?
The alien enters the hushed woods,
anger advancing, insinuating plague;
woodsmoke, the raucous howls
of Tatars.

Autumn rips away leaves, names,
fruit, it covers the borders and paths,
extinguishes lamps and tapers; young
autumn, lips purpled, embraces
mortal creatures, stealing
their existence.

Sap flows, sacrificed blood,
wine, oil, wild rivers,
yellow rivers swollen with corpses,
the curse flowing on: mud, lava, avalanche,
gush.

Breathless autumn, racing, blue
knives glinting in her glance.
She scythes names like herbs with her keen
sickle, merciless in her blaze
and her breath. Anonymous letter, terror,
Red Army.”
– Adam Zagajewski
translated by Renata Gorczynski
Without End: New and Selected Poems

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Lughnasadh

  1. After reading this poem, I am now terrified about autumn. Lol. Really, I am terrified about winter. (OK, I am terrified about neither. I can’t express myself so others understand very well…but it goes on…like the seasons…)

    Like

    • My heart fell a little after reading your words. I cannot think of anything to say that says that I remember without having YOU remember. Even sending you to Hawaii might not help, as it is NOT the UP woods…

      Like

Please Share Feelings and Ideas!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s