Ferry De Lyttelton.(Translation And Original) . Poem by Michael Walker
Ferry De Lyttelton.(Translation And Original) .
Ces collines nues ont leur propre beaute non-humaine,
Un pays fait pour les anges, pas pour les hommes,
Et le sillage lent d'avant du ferry
Couvre et decouvre les rocs
Au fond des falaises. Toujours l'instinct vient
Qu'on puisse sauter au-dessus du flanc
Et couler en bas dans l'eau froide. Pas, je pense
Un desir de se tuer
Mais une envie de retourner se reposer
Dans les eaux de la matrice. Donc, mon frere,
Boutonne ton pardessus contre la brise de la nuit
Ou viens prendre du toast et une tasse de cafe
Au bar arrondi sur les chaises pivotantes
Ou le garcon est un ami d'un ami d'un ami.
1972
-' Ferry from Lyttelton'.James K. Baxter.'James K. Baxter. Poems. Selected and Introduced by Sam Hunt', p.96.
Ferry From Lyttelton.
These bare hills have their own non-human beauty,
A country made for angels, not for men,
And the slow bow wash of the ferry
Covers and uncovers the rocks
At the bottom of the cliffs. Always the feeling comes
That one may leap over the side
And sink in the cold water. Not, I think
A desire to kill oneself
But a longing to go back and rest
In the waters of the womb. So, brother,
Button up your coat against the night breeze
Or come and have some toast and coffee
At the curved bar in swivel chairs
Where the waiter is a friend of a friend of a friend.
1972
-James K. Baxter.
of the South Island from the ferry. 'A country made for angels'. The wash from the ferry covers and uncovers the rocks at the foot of the cliffs, prompting the feeling that one might jump overboard and sink in the cold water. Not from a wish to commit suicide, but from the desire to return to the waters of the mother's womb. He speaks to a friend, who may be a stranger, inviting him to come inside for toast and coffee in the stylish swivel chairs 'where the waiter is a friend of a friend of a friend'.
There is obvious effective contrast between his thoughts of jumping overboard, returning to the womb; and the warm comfort of the bar with swivel chairs-and he knows the waiter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 8:53:15 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
