LITUANUS
LITHUANIAN
QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF ARTS AND SCIENCES
Volume 10, No.2 - Summer 1964
Editor of this issue: Thomas Remeikis ISSN 0024-5089
Copyright © 1964 LITUANUS Foundation, Inc. |
FAUSTAS KIRŠA
Room
How empty, how dismal, facing four
everyday walls
To nurture clear
thought for a crafty - faced world
Which expels from recall, like a
cursed day laborer,
Your songs — your sacrifice
structured for echoing.
O beloved room, kingdom of rot!
In every corner, flowers —
mould's sketches ...
Fragile etchings speckled with rusted nails
—
Damp's tender song — rust for the dewy blossom.
Glance low — in quasi
cauliflower clusters,
Rot's plenum — a spider repairs his cobweb;
He has gnawed small boots, gnashed multicolored socks;
Wider, he stretches his jaws till they snap.
Observe, do not shudder, a brick's
edge protrudes
Stamped with a grin
— with dewdappled lichen;
Everywhere scurry our tenants, the
centipedes,
Their bare backs pushing up through the crevices.
Behold on the ceiling, on pale yellow
wheels
Like a child's toys, move
squadrons of rot,
Bejeweled, painted with lightwaves;
There dry the
dustmotes, stricken by millions.
From ceiling down corners, their kin
in multitudes
Garbed more glinting
and steel - flecked
Swarm to attack my breast's hot heaving
And silence
it with their clamor.
You, small gray mouse, my partner in
destiny,
My consolation when the soul ravenges the visage,
Musty -
coated, you explore my possessions
And share of my crust, for this
corner is ours.
On three square levels, we gnaw, we
sing, we prepare
With lichen -
thick garlands the feast for our country;
Since dust we'll become, like
dust we heave — But,
Fatherland, yours be eternity's laurels.
(Demie Jonaitis)
Greenness
Such greenness, such joy surge over
my earth
Deluged with springborn
blossoms!
Agonies — lightened with the kindling of colors,
Vigor — fired with the victory on hilltops.
Hands though gnarled and backs bent
crooked,
There's a health seeks
labor like prayer.
A greeting — rumor of God — to
the earth,
And gratitude — love's consummation.
Hills, valleys — flowered
sanctuaries:
There, the Lord's
face, bread, abundance,
There, deep glances fathom the flatlands,
There, still thoughts glow through despondence.
Rivulets, rivers, lakes and bogpits,
Sparkle with sunbeams and move.
So all things comfort man and accompany him,
And earth spins on along cosmic grooves.