Why is it our NEW YEAR
begins just as WINTER enters
his old age? Must we always
drag that dotage with us
for weeks, even months?
Why can't we shove it
against one of those snow piles
which will take five days
of sunlight to melt
into the cool blue air?
Or spread it over the moist
morning lawn and let
yellow grasses drink it?
Why do we feel responsible
for Father Winter when already
his burgeoning son stretches out
beneath ice and snow?
Is there a hesitation in us
the year feels as a lack of welcome?
Does the calendar itself shift
imperceptibly sensing a longer winter?
Whatever it is, I'm sick of it: I want
the cheer, the uplift, the snap of time.
Or is it simply time to rev my faith
in the everlastingness
of the seasons? Words like immortal
and eternal occupy still
their niches in my mind.
Suddenly I realize this year will slip out of
its mortality the way a snake sheds
its old skin and slithers into grass mounds
out of sight. Things are never as difficult
as they seem at first. I kick the discarded skin
aside, and we walk down a clear path together.
I've made just a few changes to my Italian translation, before posting it.. Thanks again, dear Daniel. EXCELSIOR!
I rush, to be the first, bofore Fabrizio posts his, to translate and post it.//I appreciated how cleverly dear Daniel painted the time in our lives when we have to take a brave decision, to walk a new clear path
dear Daniel, what about a translation of your poem into my language..? ;) Your poem in Italian: ' L'Inverno Diventa Primavera ' Perché il nostro Anno Nuovo inizia proprio quando l'Inverno entra nella sua vecchiaia? Dobbiamo sempre trascinarci dietro quel rimbambimento per settimane, addirittura mesi? Perché non possiamo spingerlo contro uno di quei mucchi di neve che, in cinque giorni di sole, si scioglieranno nell'azzurro fresco dell'aria? O spargerlo sopra l'umido prato mattutino e lasciare che sia l'erba gialla a berlo? Perché ci sentiamo responsabili per Padre Inverno, quando già il germoglio di suo figlio si sviluppa sotto il ghiaccio e la neve? C'è una esitazione in noi che l'anno avverte come un difetto di accoglienza? O è il calendario stesso ad avere un impercettibile cambiamento, percependo un inverno più lungo? Qualunque cosa sia, ne sono stufo: ho bisogno di allegria, di sollievo, di uno scatto del tempo. O è semplicemente l'ora di incrementare la mia fede nell'intramontabilità delle stagioni? Parole come immortale ed eterno occupano ancora nicchie familiari nella mia mente. All'improvviso mi rendo conto che questo anno scivolerà via dalla sua mortalità così come un serpente perde la sua vecchia pelle e striscia via, nell'erba folta, fuori dalla vista. Le cose non sono mai così difficili come sembrano presentarsi. Spingo di lato la pelle scartata e ce ne andiamo insieme, lungo un sentiero sereno.
There's a cardinal who sings from the maple next to my balcony. He's actually an immigrant. It's true - he belongs to the College Of Cardinals, and his Italian is impeccable. When he saw your final translation, he chirped BRAVISSIMO! Then went back to his two-note song.
I read from this poem the longing for life. I like your last line aside, and we walk down a clear path together. No matter how cold or how warm this road ahead, we all go along it - that's a doomed path. Thank you for this work.
THE LONGING FOR LIFE - Truly, Cigeng, the symbol; ism of spring for rebirth is universal - It's great to be be inside a new spring looking out into the world - as far China!
The new year feels like the beginning of a new life. It brings with it a renewal of hope. But the winter gloom dampens the spirits a bit but a surviving friendship can turn winter into spring. A very philosophical rumination on the years passing. The poem ends on a very positive n optimistic note...I kick my discarded skin aside and we walk down a clear path together...things can always be sorted out and new paths can always be found. Wonderful read.
Thanks Nosheen. Your comments are so rewarding to me. They make me feel like a real poet, affirm my poetic identity, close the circle of communication between writer and reader. BTW Do you have winter seaseason with snow and ice and temperatures that reach 30 degrees below zero? Or are your winters milder than Minnesota's? I'm just wondering because nature is a big inspiration for you.
A fresh breath of spring wind is felt in your poem! i wish you the flow of new life! and remember - that for Jewish - Rosh-ha-shana is in September, For us before Peter1 - also in September, for Chinese - in the end of February - spring already. so it's just someones power which made it so. In Russia - Peter 1, f.e. But we are higher than the power of material world!
Thanks for your wish that I experience the flow of new life. Your comment makes that new life seem to be an everywhere experience. It's always poised to grant its blessing if we are ready to receive it. I hope that's true. I feel it must be so when I read your words.