Jaan Kaplinski. Photo by Raivo Tasso/Estonian Institute.
The possibility of rain… If rain is possible
everything is possible: spinach, lettuce, radish and dill,
even carrots and potatoes, even black
and red currants, even swallows
above the pond where you can see
the reflection of the full moon, and bats flying.
The children finish playing badminton and go in.
There's a haze to the west. Little by little
the fatigue in my limbs changes to optimism. I dream
I borrow a plane to fly to Cologne.
I must go in too. The sky's nearly dark,
a half-moon shining through birch branches.
Suddenly I feel myself like an alchemist's retort
where all this - heat, boredom,
hope and new thoughts -
is melting into something strange, colourful and new.
Jaan Kaplinski
everything is possible: spinach, lettuce, radish and dill,
even carrots and potatoes, even black
and red currants, even swallows
above the pond where you can see
the reflection of the full moon, and bats flying.
The children finish playing badminton and go in.
There's a haze to the west. Little by little
the fatigue in my limbs changes to optimism. I dream
I borrow a plane to fly to Cologne.
I must go in too. The sky's nearly dark,
a half-moon shining through birch branches.
Suddenly I feel myself like an alchemist's retort
where all this - heat, boredom,
hope and new thoughts -
is melting into something strange, colourful and new.
Jaan Kaplinski
The washing never gets done.
The furnace never gets heated.
Books never get read.
Life is never completed.
Life is like a ball which one must continually
catch and hit so it won't fall.
When the fence is repaired at one end,
it collapses on the other. The roof leaks,
the kitchen door won't close, there are cracks in the foundation,
the torn knees of children's pants …
One can't keep everything in mind. The wonder is
that beside all this one can notice
the spring which is so full of everything
continuing in all directions - into the evening clouds,
into the redwing's song and into every
drop of dew on every blade of grass in the meadow,
as far as the eye can see, into the dusk.
Jaan Kaplinski
The furnace never gets heated.
Books never get read.
Life is never completed.
Life is like a ball which one must continually
catch and hit so it won't fall.
When the fence is repaired at one end,
it collapses on the other. The roof leaks,
the kitchen door won't close, there are cracks in the foundation,
the torn knees of children's pants …
One can't keep everything in mind. The wonder is
that beside all this one can notice
the spring which is so full of everything
continuing in all directions - into the evening clouds,
into the redwing's song and into every
drop of dew on every blade of grass in the meadow,
as far as the eye can see, into the dusk.
Jaan Kaplinski
Prayer is just what remains
when all is said and there is nothing more to say
God is what remains when all in which one can believe
comes to an end and there is nothing to believe in
with hay still in the loft and bread on the table
under a white linen cloth
I've written about all of this before
as have others before me before all of us
but the day is near when there shall be no difference
between my saying everything in just a couple words
and nothing in all of them
Jaan Kaplinski
when all is said and there is nothing more to say
God is what remains when all in which one can believe
comes to an end and there is nothing to believe in
with hay still in the loft and bread on the table
under a white linen cloth
I've written about all of this before
as have others before me before all of us
but the day is near when there shall be no difference
between my saying everything in just a couple words
and nothing in all of them
Jaan Kaplinski
Jaan Kaplinski from Bloodaxe Books on Vimeo.