A Tale of Two Writers

My grandfather wrote about the world

I write grants with "EU goals" in mind

I could travel 'round the world

He could travel in his mind

Mysteries

 By Attila József. Original. Song. Words in parentheses should be said/sung quickly, and in the case of "Of" a fraction of a beat before the beginning (sort of; or at least it seems to me that way).

Mysteries when they sing, make me

Stand to guard like tales of old

Dressed me love, in clothes heavy 

(Of) faithful chains, from neck to toe.

Calls the wind and calls the stream

Blushing when you understand

Calls the eye and calls the heart

Reaching out for your dear hand.

So I write my song with care:

If I should love (you) eternally

Please unburden what I bear

This difficult loyalty.

Prayer After War

 I haven't done translations in a while, so special moment.

Also, I'm quite satisfied with the end result.

Original. Recited. Put to Song.

Lord, I'm coming home from war

Everything's over, over

Appease me to you and to myself

For you are Peace, my maker

Look: my heart's a fiery cancer

With nothing to give me rest

Place a kiss on my pulsing heart

To comfort my aching chest

I close my large and weary eyes

Nothing for them to see

I seal them off from world's doings

To see only Your glory

My two sprinting legs some time ago

Were up to my knees in blood

Now look at me Lord, my legs are gone

And my knees are all I've got

Lord, please give me one long look

My arms are but two sticks

My lips are dry they keep from wine

I neither fight nor kiss

Lord, do see me as I am,

Everything's over, over

Appease me to you and to myself

For you are Peace, my maker

Haiku of Life

On my pilgrimage

Not all that's hot need lose hue

Come, light of the world!

Advent 2020

Nipped did it

The frost on the sloe

Yes and sitting on the hill

With blackthorn around us

Eating our winter picnic

Looking down it truly was

Wonderful, undulating

Grassy meadows, varying

Forms near and far

Tracks and trails covered 

By us and by others

The first advent Sunday came

A soft bell ringing

Gently piercing and peeking

Into our world.

Pain, happy pain of

Longing, surprised by joy

If only words could convey

Or at least elicit that long-lost feeling

But untamed lions 

Come and go as they please.

I tune my hearing

To hear his steps and

Every sign of the times

Bending towards his will.

I pray my own steps 

Those 26 steps

Will be well placed.

Where

Where have you
Buried your talents
What are they
Where have you

Hidden that blinding
Light that took
Me by surprise
Where have you

Placed that beat
That jumped my
Heart it really
Resonated with me.

(For all those who struggle with their calling --

and with distinguishing between

the siren call of the despairingly and unrealistically high expectations of success and

the call of conscience -- and scripture -- to give back the talents with interest)

The Man

The Man who gave names to all the animals
Did not know what to call himself
What he was called to be

Called himself names
But could not recall his true name
Created himself games
But could not play the true game

The Man who gave names to all the animals
Who created taxonomy
Did not know how long or how short
The measure should be

The spirit from within
The spirit from outside
Then broke in

Washing away what's petty
And placing what's important
In full view
And in full agreement
For people to see

(With thanks for a chat with a friend)