Short Lyrics
Scott Cairns
—after Seferis
Turning Point
When the stillness (sent
by what hand?) finally
settled here in my breast
as a mute, black dove, or
as a coal, glowing
without color or light,
and the road opened
before me, and the crust
of bread in my mouth
softened with wine, you,
stillness I have desired,
woke me, deeply.
Slowly
Before the sun, you spoke
with darkness hovering,
pressing our embrace
into something more
than embrace, and even
now, I remember
the sensation like a taste,
a vague ache.
Where is it now, that
savor and moment
when common breath
drew these hungers together?
Her Sorrow
Upon the flat stone, longsuffering,
she sits awaiting evening,
the black coals of her eyes
radiating grief (do you feel it?)
her lips a scarlet line,
naked and (do you see?) trembling
as her soul dizzies, her entire
body sobs one plea,
her mind the well, inexhaustible,
from which her tears
draw hot supply, though she
had so nearly turned again,
but her sorrow, thus embraced,
becomes what fills
the night’s expanse
with (see them?) so many eyes.
Carriage
Down the rush of road and open
to each intersection’s parting
of the way—the wind caressing the hair,
the miles filling our bellies—
we two fled, emptying, frantic
for affection—the mind’s affect, the blood’s,
both failing, leaving us exposed,
and each a sparking nerve. . . .
drawn together, once, in bed, the pillow
raised and airy, the scent
of our confusion, and all separateness
slipping away into its bleak sea . . .
Dim, forgetful, we slogged
along our separate roads,
parting, unaware, dis-
embodied, thick with isolation.
Late Denial
In the secret cove,
sands white as dove-down,
we parched, and the water
was useless—half salt, half sweet.
On evening’s gilded, ruddy sand,
we drew her name,
but the sea-wind rose
and the script was taken elsewhere.
With what wild craving, hot breath,
what lush ecstasies we pursued
our union there—an apparent error.
And so we turned away.
Companions in Hades
. . . but he deprived them of the day of their return.
—Odyssey
We ignored our meet provisions—
fools that we are, and faithless—
and disembarked to partake
of what was handy and slow,
consuming in haste
and thoughtlessly the elements
we might have honored, and by
so doing, honorably won.
Surrounded by life we swallowed
death. We gorged on it,
and settled in these dim regions,
regardless, grinning, full.
