Andalusian Blueprints in November, by Susanne Jorn

ANDALUSIAN BLUEPRINTS IN NOVEMBER

Susanne Jorn

________________________________________________

la simple
poesía
vive
a pesar de todo,
tiene una eternidad que no se asusta

Pablo Neruda – “Oda a la envidia”
Odas elementales, 1954

__________________________________________________

Furiously boiling November sun
and yellow, red, brown, black
earth colors everywhere
in Eras del Lugar valley.

From dark mood
to light mood.

Pastel Yellow Photosensitivity

*

CALM

ALMIGHTY
PASTEL-BLUE LIGHT

*

The pulse of
the silence throbs
while the enchanting
Eras del Lugar valley
chimes paper-white
in the total blank
of Nothingness.

The pulse of
the silence throbs …

*

The silence’s
All-seeing
State of
emergency.

The scorpion’s
weird
silence.

The deep azure
of the Mediterranean,
The light azure
of the Mediterranean

Piedra de Villazar beach
its yellow-brown sand
Piedra de Villazar beach
its coarse-grained sand and

ink-blue peace of mind.

*

Are cicadas singing in chorus
when darkness falls.

Are crickets singing in chorus
when darkness falls.

No, they are holding singing contests
in Andalusian eveningsoundwalls.

*

That eardrum-splitting gale here in the night desert
reminds me of way back when I was so angry about everything.

There was no way round it, and I jumped in the air
so my anger-satellites sparkled in all the heavens.

The shutters flap against the walls of the houses. Distant stars shine on
the desert sky. On the horizon I think a little anger-satellite is blinking.

*

I
Never
Got
Up
To
The
Top
Of
The
Holy
Mountain.
I
Walked
Almost
The
Whole
Way
Up
Montem
Sacrum.
I
Got
More
Than
Halfway
Up
Mojacar
La
Vieja,
As
The
Pyramid
Mountain
Is
Also
Called.

*

MY INNER ZONE –
THE HALF MOON
OVER MOJACAR

*

A POMEGRANATE
A SMALL TORTOISESHELL
A POMEGRANATE

*

Most wonderfully lovely pomegranate tree.
Most wonderfully beautiful pomegranate.
Love’s pomegranate-red fruit.

Nothing more.

*

It is said
that pomegranates
cleanse the body
of hatred and jealousy.

If it is said
that poetry
is the breath of the soul
then pomegranates must
be love poems
all of them

*

Granada is the place
where many pomegranate trees grow.
Granada is the place
where the Alhambra palace is.

I got lost in the Alhambra.
And
suddenly stood
in the Alhambra’s secret chamber.

In one corner of the chamber I could sense
a man’s presence in the thick darkness.

I sat down in the opposite corner of the chamber
and whispered my secret to him.

Only then
could I
continue along
that fate-determined road.

*

SIESTA
CIRCULAR SAW
SIESTA

*

In endless, deep minutes
of penetrable transparency
I’m united with my poems in koans

while
two ink-black daytime-owl-eyes
just
stare and stare and stare
mysteriously
straight through me

*

GENTLE BREEZE –
THE MUSIC
IN DRY PAMPAS GRASS

*

Mountain path
Bougainvillea
Balsam poplars

Mountain path
Orange grove
Barbary fig

Mountain path
Rosemary
Passion flower.

*

THUNDER-BLUE CLOUD MOUNTAINS
DREAM BRIDGES
MIST-WHITE CLOUD VALLEYS

*

Green Lucky Dragons are asleep
in the caves of Francisco Goya’s mountains
and grumblemumblehummingsinging sounds of snoring
can be heard from far and near… Today
I saw wild magic eyes in feather-clouds,
a rare sight in November.

*

That lily-white poet of passion
No, that cerulean blue poet of hope
Flame-red poet of non-violence
Night-black poet of tolerance
Erik Stinus –
died on 13.11.2009.

*

WHITEWASHED WALL
ONE GECKO
ONE PALIMPSEST

*

ETERNAL BLUE
SEASHORE MUSIC –

THE MEDITERRANEAN WAVES

*

STINK
OF BURNT CAR TYRES

THE NEIGHBOUR’S BACKYARD BONFIRE

*

The alcoholic’s
empty bottles
hurled down
from a mountain slope:
La hora de la verdad.

*

WHITE BLEATING
BLACK BLEATING

BLACK WHITE MOVEMENT

*

Shepherds
and
sheepdog.

White
sheep,
black
goats.

Shepherds
and
sheepdogs.

Yellowish-
whirling
dust.

*

WHITE HERON
ON SHEEP’S BACK –

ONLY A LITTLE

*

The Sierra Cabrera mountains
awake
in the morning mist.

Then thousands of diamonds
flash
on the Agua river

this
white-painted
morning

with
white magic
in it.

*

THE COLOUR-MAGIC
IN MY INNER DAYBREAK

OCHRE-YELLOW PASSION

*

Like celestial carpets
of stars,
dreams.

Like walls
of cypresses,
hope.

Like walls
of fig trees,
longing.

Like walls
of orange trees,
joie de vivre.

Like walls
of pomegranate trees,
humanity.

Like walls
of olive trees,
universal peace.

Like screens
of poems,
sound.

Like the hoopoe
against the windowpane,
milestones.

-Susanne Jorn: Andalusiske øjebliksbilleder i november, 2010

-translation © David McDuff 2011