bric-à-brac-à-bric: 2011

rough translation:

Everything Changes

Surface things change
and so do things profound
your way of thinking changes
everything in this world changes

Climate changes over the years
a shepherd changes his flock
and since everything must change
that I should change is nothing strange

The finest brilliant thing
changes its luster from hand to hand
a bird’s nest can change
and so can a lover’s feelings

A walker changes directions
although it could cause harm
and since everything must change
that I should change is nothing strange

Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes

The sun changes in its path
when only night remains
a plant changes its garments
from the green it was in spring

Animals’ coats change
And old people’s hair
and since everything must change
that I should change is nothing strange

But my love doesn’t change
no matter how far away I travel
nor the memory nor the pain
of my country and my people

What changed yesterday
will have to change tomorrow
just as I am changing
in this distant country

Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes
Changes, everything changes

I Think Continually of Those

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious is never to forget
The delight of the blood drawn from ancient springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth;
Never to deny its pleasure in the simple morning light,
Nor its grave evening demand for love;
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass,
And by the streamers of white cloud,
And whispers of wind in the listening sky;
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun, they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.

~ Stephen Spender ~

source: panhala.net