Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy
cathy_edgett

Evening -


It has been a warm day.  Jeff and Jan were here to play with the kittens.  I close the evening with a poem by Jaan Kaplinski.

    Once I Got a Postcard from the Fiji Islands

    Once I got a postcard from the Fiji Islands
    with a picture of sugarcane harvest.  Then I realized
    that nothing at all is exotic in itself.
    There is no difference between digging potatoes in our
       Mutiku garden
    and sugarcane harvesting in Viti Levu.
    Everything that is is very ordinary
    or, rather, neither ordinary nor strange. 
    Far-off lands and foreign peoples are a dream,
    a dreaming with open eyes
    somebody does not wake from.
    It's the same with poetry - seen from afar
    it's something special, mysterious, festive.
    No, poetry is even less
    special than a sugarcane plantation or potato field.
    Poetry is like sawdust coming down from under the saw
    or soft yellowish shavings from a plane.
    Poetry is washing hands in the evening
    or a clean handkerchief that my late aunt
    never forgot to put in my pocket.

            
by Jaan Kaplinski  -   Translated from the Estonian by the author with Sam Hamill and Riina Tamm.

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