POETRY IS LIKE TAKING A DEEP BREATH

Sunday, 5 February 2012

SNOW






It began to snow at midnight. And certainly
the kitchen is the best place to sit,
even the kitchen of the sleepless.
It's warm there, you cook yourself something, drink wine
and look out of the window at your friend eternity.
Why care whether birth and death are merely points
when life is not a straight line.
Why torment yourself eyeing the calendar
and wondering what is at stake.
Why confess you don't have the money
to buy Saskia shoes?
And why brag
that you suffer more than others.
If there were no silence here
the snow would have dreamed it up.
You are alone.
Spare the gestures, Nothing for show.



Vladimir Holan
1905-1980


Translated from the Czech by Ian and Jarmila Milner



7 comments:

  1. This is wonderful. So very near to where my thoughts have been recently. Thank you for posting this, Friko.

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  2. I do believe the poem was speaking to me as I have been dealing with several stressful things lately.

    The picture is beautiful!

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  3. Another interesting poet about whom I knew nothing until now. Looks a bit on the dark side, it seems. I searched about for others, and somehow felt this one an appropriate companion for Snow:

    When It Rains On Sunday

    When it rains on Sunday and you are alone,
    open to the world but no thief comes
    and neither drunkard nor enemy knocks at the door,
    when it rains on Sunday and you're deserted
    and can't imagine living without the body
    or not living since you have it,
    when it rains on Sunday and you're on your own,
    don't think of chatting with yourself.
    Then it's an angel who knows, and only what's above,
    then it's a devil who knows, and only what's below.

    A book is in the holding, a poem in release.

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  4. I love the last line.
    No fog of grandiosity for him..~Mary

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  5. Oh Friko, this is a wonderful poem and picture. I love the lines:
    'the kitchen is the best place to sit,
    even the kitchen of the sleepless.
    It's warm there, you cook yourself something, drink wine
    and look out of the window at your friend eternity.'
    and again towards the end:
    'If there were no silence here
    the snow would have dreamed it up.'
    (ok, I realize this is most of the poem! I guess I love the whole thing!)
    Thank you.

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  6. Wow, Friko, I've been reading your other blog and missed this one until today. I don't normally read poetry but the ones you are posting are beautiful and easy to read. I'll be coming back here often. But I still like the other blog just as well.

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Thank you for your comment. I love to receive comments from other poetry lovers.

This blog is pure self-indulgence; I love poetry and am grateful that Blogger has given me this vehicle to indulge myself.

Only via my main blog 'Friko's World' do I visit, comment on, and follow other blogs.

Thank you for understanding.