Magnify the Lord, oh my soul, for your calm foreboding, for Gothic yearning in spring’s incarnation, for youth aflame — wine chalice of elation, for autumn born in the likeness of heather and stubble.
Magnify Him for poetry, for you and for pain: the joy in mastering earth, gold, blue skies, the passion of generations in words incarnate; You will harvest this ripeness when it falls and dies.
The pain is evening sorrow of things half-uttered, when Beauty overwhelms us, and ecstasy is ours, God bending to the harp — but on a rocky track a sunbeam breaks, and words lose their power.
Words fail, and I am like a fallen angel, a statue on marble pedestal — stone on stone — but You breathed yearning into the marble arms, the statue longs to take off — angel again.
And I magnify You also for the haven there is in You, the reward for each song — day of holy quest, for the joy that sings the hymn of motherhood, the quiet word of fulfillment — Eli manifest!
Father, be blessed for the angel’s sorrow for the song that crushes falsehood, for the soul’s inspired fight. Break all love of words in us, and destroy The puffed-up form parading like a fool.
A Slav troubadour, I walk Your roads and play to maidens at the solstice, to shepherds with their flock, but, wide as this vale, my song of prayer I throw for You only, before your throne of oak.
RispondiEliminaMagnify the Lord, oh my soul, for your calm foreboding,
for Gothic yearning in spring’s incarnation,
for youth aflame — wine chalice of elation,
for autumn born in the likeness of heather and stubble.
Magnify Him for poetry, for you and for pain:
the joy in mastering earth, gold, blue skies,
the passion
of generations in words incarnate;
You will harvest this ripeness when it falls and dies.
The pain is evening sorrow of things half-uttered,
when Beauty overwhelms us, and ecstasy is ours,
God bending to the harp — but on a rocky track
a sunbeam breaks, and words lose their power.
Words fail, and I am like a fallen angel,
a statue on marble pedestal — stone on stone —
but You breathed yearning into the marble arms,
the statue longs to take off — angel again.
And I magnify You also for the haven there is in You,
the reward for each song — day of holy quest,
for the joy that sings the hymn of motherhood,
the quiet word of fulfillment — Eli manifest!
Father, be blessed for the angel’s sorrow
for the song that crushes falsehood, for the soul’s inspired fight.
Break all love of words in us, and destroy
The puffed-up form parading like a fool.
A Slav troubadour, I walk Your roads and play
to maidens at the solstice, to shepherds with their flock,
but, wide as this vale, my song of prayer
I throw for You only, before your throne of oak.