Simbellmyne's utopia

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poet (via the poet and the bird by *k-a-d-a-t-h)
A poem has to catch its breath,Just as living calls for rest:You have to sit downEven if only on some rock,Lean back against the trunk of an elmAnd, at the first hint of a breeze,Close your eyes.It’s then that poetrySneaks up on inaudible steps,Covers your eyes with wordsAnd begs you to guess.You keep guessing, guessing and guessing,Till the ultimate YES.Then the poem before youDeftly regains its breath.Kazys Bradunas, translated by Vyt Bakaitis

poet (via the poet and the bird by *k-a-d-a-t-h)

A poem has to catch its breath,
Just as living calls for rest:
You have to sit down
Even if only on some rock,
Lean back against the trunk of an elm
And, at the first hint of a breeze,
Close your eyes.

It’s then that poetry
Sneaks up on inaudible steps,
Covers your eyes with words
And begs you to guess.

You keep guessing, guessing and guessing,
Till the ultimate YES.
Then the poem before you
Deftly regains its breath.

Kazys Bradunas, translated by Vyt Bakaitis

5 notes Posted on Sunday February 6th

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