Posts tagged ‘marshes’

04/04/2013

White Headed Duck

 

A haze has melted tracks and trees

And terraces and Moorish walls

And egrets staring into space,

In which the vultures spin like dust.

 

Below the surface of the pools,

Behind the garish skin of sky,

And deep beneath the mottled earth,

There hide the many names of pride.

 

The fountains, tiles, the mind of god,

Re-shaping seasons, draining swamps,

The petrol shimmer on the lakes,

The urge to build away the pain.

 

An absence lingers by the nests:

You lose the pride, you lose the birds.

 

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10/02/2013

The Hound of the Baskervilles

 

Around St Petersburg the fog

Is emanating tales of fear.

Its rotten stench has howled for years,

It spreads malignant myths of death.

 

The truth behind the curse is raw,

A void as deep as Russian steppes,

Where generations wait for word

Of riches mired as feudal hordes.

 

Those truths are never glimpsed for long:

They’re flashed as fugitives of code,

They’ll raise their dues and feed the hounds,

They’ll drag all wayward souls beneath.

 

The bleakest marsh has tales to tell:

For all around they’re tales of hell.

 

 

response to the film Приключения Шерлока Холмса и доктора Ватсона: Собака Баскервилей (The Hound of the Baskervilles): the version directed by Igor Maslennikov

10/07/2012

The Song of Ondine (Amvrakikos Gulf)

 

She used to sing her richest songs

To fishermen who’d lay their traps,

And buffalo who’d turn the swamps,

And bitterns who would stalk the reeds.

 

The warm lagoons would take her voice

And echo back the melodies:

The tone of sedge, of wave, of scrub,

The cleanest, purest, wash of sound.

 

She’d breathe her charms beyond the reach,

Where pelicans would clack their beaks.

This paradise between our worlds,

Between the water, land and greed.

 

What’s lost is truth beyond our plans,

The fragile phrases she once sang.