Variations On A Theme Of An Ironic Dream

Poem By Algimantas Mackus

Your dream was round and soft:
it will raise your body from space
so you will more perfectly dream
the taste of the orange.

The sun's filament is in the orange peel!
The earth's sap is in the orange peel!

The litanies of all the saints,
all the sacraments,
the intercessors in medallions
come together to socialize.

They will shade your eyes from the constancy of heaven
so the dream will be perfection.

Wasn't God's hand beautiful
as it stroked the angel's hair
wasn't God's face beautiful
as it thrust a glass eye into yours

The sun's filament is in the orange peel!

Socialize, litanies of all the saints
socialize, sacraments

The earth's sap is in the orange peel!

Soft and round the irony-filled dream:
you suck the orange, swollen in the sun,
because it reminds you of the taste
of your own ground.

Having stroked the angel's hair
with all the precepts and sacraments
the hand returns
your delirious body into space,
so you would more perfectly suffer, foster-child,
the irony of the orange.

IV

In your hands are peeled oranges,
continents, peninsulas, islands.
The foster-children, having left their parents,
share their last supper.
The funereal hymn begins to echo -
the long dictionary of the dying race,
letters from the exotic land of birth
spill into your eyes.

VI

I grow I grow I grow
the fierce African grass

I grow I grow I grow
a grandson for the talking drum

when he grows he grows he grows
the grandson for the talking drum

when he grows he grows he grows
the grandson in the tropical rains

his hand will grasp a sharp machete
and black will be the African moon

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Other poems of MACKUS

Dying Is Strange

The one night I got to spend enjoying spring
would have to be the one I hit the dirt,
though the dew had turned green earlier,
much greener than anything that spring.

In Triumph

And death won't be won over.
Dead men don't turn back
once their elbows prop rubble,
with the north moon's north eye

From A Misty Autumn Morning

I never loved the earth.
I meant to leave it
to its loneliness.

In Mourning

Right at seven that morning
right then at seven a.m.
it was that morning at seven
death had to have homage shown.

Jurek

I would lift your body into the crown of a green tree
if I had a tree
greening.

Talk About The Dead Being Born

Here's one place torture broke down.
I frown and am reassured
God is on our side.
Gott mit uns.