The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Monday and Brookside Gardens

Journey's End
By Jónas Hallgrímsson
Translated by Dick Ringler

The star of love
over Steeple Rock
is cloaked in clouds of night.
It laughed, once, in heaven
for the lad who grieves
deep in the dark valley.

I know where all hope--
and my whole world--
flames with the fire of God.
I throw off the chains
of thought, I fling
myself into your soul.

I sink myself,
see into your being,
live your very life;
each gracious moment
God allots you
flares in my flaming heart.

Alone together
we gathered flowers
high on the heath at dawn.
I wove you wreaths,
reverently laying
loving gifts in your lap.

You heaped my forehead
with fragrant rings
of bright blue flowers,
one, then another;
you nodded and smiled
and swiftly snatched them away.

We laughed in the highlands
while heaven grew clear,
bright at the mountain brim.
Not a single joy
seemed to exist
apart from living our life.

The wise flower elves
wept in the hollows,
they knew we would need to part.
We thought it was drops
of dew and kissed
cold tears from the crossgrass.

I held you on horseback
in the hurtling stream
and felt with fond assurance
I could lift and carry
so light a flower
over all the leagues of life.

Beside the bank
of Boar River
I carefully combed your hair;
eye stars flash,
flower lips smile,
cheeks turn ruby red.

He is far from your fair
friendship, the lad
deep in the dark valley.
The star of love
over Steeple Rock
is burning back of clouds.

The heavens part
the high planets,
blade parts back and edge;
not even eter-
nity can part
souls that are sealed in love.


Paul and I had the house to ourselves Sunday morning while the kids were at robotics and Hebrew school respectively, so I was very lazy before lunch and read the paper and part of my book. After lunch, we picked up Adam and went to Brookside Gardens, where half the greenhouse has just been renovated for the spring and the other half is still closed while the walkways are replaced. It was below 30 degrees outside, so very nice to walk around indoors among orchids before taking a swing through the paths outside, where most of the holiday lights are still hanging -- they just don't turn them on at night.


It was a relatively quiet evening, too; we watched the Packers beat the Bears and Pittsburgh beat the Jets, had boca burgers for dinner, and some of us watched Downton Abbey while others played video games. (I must be a bitch because I do not have it in me to feel sorry for Mary; she's too horrible to other women.) I am sure I don't need to explain how happy I am that The King's Speech won the Producers Guild award -- I may write an essay on why it is the anti-Social Network, despite the fact that superficially they're both about extremely privileged men. My kids have no school tomorrow for the end of the term, but older son has robotics, and I may take younger son out for bagels!

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