is the image the object?

What Voice Is That?
Suddenly
we hear a voice.
Far away, up above.

It is a space stiff, arrogant hands
will never be able to touch.
A radiance
snow and white nights can never get near to.

In the gloomy soul
it has been planted, dazzling.
It is a shining metal thread
someone plucks from the heart.

Only a god
could open its lips on this
dismal night.
Only a god
could make people stuck fast in sickness
feel moved.

Light:
those who have lost their legs
will all pursue it, gliding away
while those who cannot see the lamplight
reach out their hands
joining with it to become a sparkling ray.

What voice is it
what is the name of this god of song
who gently stirs the pain.

  Wang Xiaoni

the light- bringers...:Celan

m.cassapidis,2015

The bright stones

The bright
stones ride through the air, bright
white, the light-
bringers.

They want to
not sink, not fall,
not collide. They rise
up,
like slender
dog roses they break open,
they float
toward you, my gentle one,
you, my true one—

Celan

Look around: see how things all come alive—Celan

m.cassapidis, 2015

Speak You Too


Speak you too,
speak as the last,
say out your say.

Speak—
But don’t split off No from Yes.
Give your say this meaning too:
give it the shadow.

Give it shadow enough,
give it as much
as you see spread round you from
midnight to midday and midnight.

Look around:
see how things all come alive—
By death! Alive!
Speaks true who speaks shadows

Celan

swallow river // χελιδονοπόταμος

the river overflows with birds//ο ποταμός ξεχειλίζει πουλιά

©m.cassapidis,2015

©m.cassapidis,2015

april swallows by river-road//χελιδόνια απριλίου στον ποταμόδρομο

april swallows ©m.cassapidis