AUBADE
Sometimes I’m half awake waiting
For the three minutes of music
Before the two minutes of news,
Sports scores, weather. I turn
Off the clock-radio and curl
Into the cocoon of sheets, pillow,
Quilt. Crow sings his
five-caw aubade.
I list the day’s agenda…often mundane,
Predictable, yet always unique.
I sit; my feet search for slippers.
I expect hundreds, hope for
Thousands more such wakings.
I’m old
enough to know
This ease, this satisfaction,
This life I’m
living is growing shorter.
Moon Sentinel -- Linda A. Herzog
Dafydd ap Gwilym was one of the leading Welsh poets of the 14th century and among the great European poets of his time.
ReplyDeleteAbout 170 of his poems have survived, including
the following "Aubade":
It seemed as if we did not sleep
One wink that night; I was sighing deep.
The cruellest judge in the costliest court
Could not condemn a night so short.
We had the light out, but I know,
Each time I turned, a radiant glow
Suffused the room, and shining snow
Alit from Heaven’s candle-fires
Illuminated our desires.
But the last time I held her, strong,
Excited, closest, very long,
Something started to go wrong.
The edge of dawn’s despotic veil
Showed at the eastern window-pale
And there it was,—the morning light!
Gwen was seized with a fearful fright,
Became an apparition, cried,
“Get up, go now with God, go hide!
“Love is a salt, a gall, a rue,
A vinegar-vintage. Dos y Ddw,
Vaya con Dios, quickly, too!”
“Ah, not yet, never yet, my love;
The stars and moon still shine above.”
“Then why do the raucous ravens talk
With such a loud insistent squawk?”
“Crows always cry like that, when fleas
Nibble their ankles, nip their knees.”
“And why do the dogs yip, yammer, yell?”
“They think they’ve caught a fox’s smell.”
“Poet, the wisdom of a fool
Offers poor counsel as a rule.
Open the door, open it wide
As fast as you can, and leap outside.
The dogs are fierce when they get untied.”
“The woods are only a bound from here,
And I can outjump a deer, my dear!”
“But tell me, best beloved of men,
Will you come again? Will you come again?”
“Gwen, you know I’m your nightingale,
And I’ll be with you, without fail,
When the cloud is cloak, and the dark is sky,
And when the night comes, so will I.”
--tr. Rolfe Humphries
Gorgeous! Moving! True!
ReplyDelete