Uncategorized

Roberto Cogo – Irish Poems

Leaving Dublin, Heading for Achill

 

the big city is not the land

it’s just a part of it — green fields are all around

and sheep and cattle and a flock of birds

 

dipped in a grey air wrapping up the sky

really closing the view

to a bluer contact with the above —

 

travelling is the same everywhere you go

you can move from town to town

losing your link with the earth

 

that’s why the city is not the land nearby

but just a little part of it

 

15 Aug. 2009

 

 

 

 

 

Achill is a Hawk

 

achill is a hawk calling from the sea

achill is a mountain, a feather and a sheep

 

it makes you feel dizzy

blowing its winds into the top of your lungs

 

it makes you perceive the sun and the salt

invites the mist in the air to jump from tree to tree

 

achill makes you sleep like an innocent abroad

who yearns for his mum’s sweet breast

 

and tries to seek the best out of his life to come

flesh and marrow and bones

 

achill is a beast flying from its cage

towards a chart of unity and singleness and faith

 

achill is the weather a mountain and the ocean

a stubbornly grazing sheep

 

within the evergreen fields of your soul

 

16 Aug. 2009

 

 

Doogort Hill

 

you have to make your own way up

that’s what the young girl said

when i asked her for a trail

to the top of doogort hill

 

i lost myself in a sloping peatland

where brown rivulets were running down

i found myself proceeding in a zig-zag

trying not to fall into puddles of soaked sod

 

water was here water was there water was everywhere

water disguised in thousand holes

water under each turf of grass

water from the sky and water from the earth

 

soil and water merging their abundance

oozing to build a brand new slice of turf —

the irish family’s sacred right to burn

its own distinctive piece of earth — said paul later

 

are you ready to produce your own energy

and flame from the water and the land?

it demands a thousand years’ vital spirit or survival

 

you have to make your own way up the hill

that’s what the young girl said to me

since there is no track nor path or trail

 

19 Aug. 2009

 


Two Achill Sketches

 

P. J. opens his shop

P. J. takes a look around

then whispers something to himself

 

P. J. steps back inside and sits down

expecting no one in particular to come

 

… … … … …

 

loomings from achill island

the great mother of inventions…

 

bury your own statements

under the turf-ground and wait

 

let them bloom like a daffodil

over a pale white moon

 

22-23 Aug. 2009

 

 

 

 

 

 

Strand Hotel, Doogort

 

i can’t accept a vision like that — the wildness

 

of the ocean runs over my deepest thoughts

washes away each illusion of delight

makes me reconsider all the goodness of the wave

 

together with the far-away private shore

where all our souls will gather and melt

in the company of the gannet and the kittiwake

 

24 Aug. 2009

 

Advertisements

Categories: Uncategorized

Tagged as:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s