Worse is forgetting). What can I do but worship this bleak life? I press towards me the curse. I cannot say how long it will last. But God, I sneak, I comb, I tend to. I hide in the fragrant cloth the ugly wounds. Concealment is my specialty, I smile I stretch, I kiss your lovely side. There is hope in Spring. I covet its pulse.
I attack the contentious issues of the day (body, heart and mind). The temptation calls me ‘Don’t’. What good is passing beauty? What good? But remember that the answer is far from the solution But the unsightly remains - dead ashes of the night - dirty dishes in the morning - signs of my own death and constantly cleaning them (dishes, heart and mind). Forget for a while, God, the dreary mouthful of soil.
There or not I am drawing towards you and if you are I call for one enchantment to be saved from those who speak of you as the cold man of the skies. God, my heresy is boundless but would you not prefer this to some intriguing lover of the world’s plenty Who would fail to pay heed to you from one end of the year to the next?
Neither blood nor flesh God your conjured image -the dreary mouthful of soil- but I clasp it heart-wards until it fuses into life. The questioning is no comfort (nor is the answer). Why should I adore the lifeless image that will not explain away and you who felt my deepest pains the way I do now? And if it’s not the questioning (nor the answer) that’s the problem (nor is the answer) Oh no God. I don’t understand. I don’t know. I’m convinced only - so far Of that.
Here is a translation - though you will have to read the posts backwards, starting with "Neither blood nor flesh"
travellintravellin 1 month ago
@travellintravellin
GRMA :) Roghnaigh mé an dán seo mar bhunús de mheasúnú atá le déanamh agam ar Chaitlín Maude.
PaulaDeBarra 1 day ago
travellintravellin 1 month ago
travellintravellin 1 month ago
God,
The answer is far from the solution
There is no new mysterious revelation
You still have to travel the path of the thorns
No respite or homecoming at the bottom of the sea
Better the water on the forehead now
than after
My time has come to sow my blind pattern
on the gaping canvas.
travellintravellin 1 month ago
travellintravellin 1 month ago
travellintravellin 1 month ago
The only word I understood was pog-- kiss. And the "Thanks to..." XD
GodsWildfire 2 years ago
The funny thing about this is that God is our Father, a powerful, personal force, and wants us to approach Him as boldly as His own children.
GodsWildfire 2 years ago
"Dia dhuit. Conas tá tú?
Is mise Pedro, Tá me i mo chónaí i Brazil
"can you please send me the written of this poem" le do thoil?"
:) :)
pedrolobo25 2 years ago
Gaeilg Chonamara atá ann cibé ar bith.
Lughaidh2 2 years ago
sounds beautiful, but I would really like to know, what it is about... :)
LINTUgirl93 3 years ago
please,can someone traduct the poem???
please!
pedrolobo25 3 years ago
:) ... feeling the same!
potato313 3 years ago
i dont understand but i can feel the energy
great words
amazing
pedrolobo25 3 years ago 3
likewise.
can anyone offer a translation?
spiegelhaus 2 years ago