13469760.0022.106Absinthe2377-3456Michigan Publishing, University of Michigan LibraryAnn Arbor, MI13469760.0022.106http://hdl.handle.net/2027/spo.13469760.0022.106ArticleTími kaldra mánaFrom Cold Moons(poetry)Sigurðsson MagnúsMatichMegan Alyssa01042017221Pen and Brush2017This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 License. Please contact mpub-help@umich.edu to use this work in a way not covered by the license.
Sigurðsson, Magnús. Poems from Tími kaldra mána. Uppheimar, 2013.
Easter Window
The morning sun
casts the silhouette
of an oriole
in an apple tree
on the paper curtain
of the east window.
Li Po
barely traced
a more beautiful shape
with his feather.
Sailing
The boat drifts
through the water lilies.
The bank,
lined with cherry trees
in bloom.
Nothing
under the canopy
of the willow
except a mango bird.
Each haul
of the oars brings
us nearer.
Hunter
I can neither read
nor write.
The spear is my stylus.
The water’s surface,
my page.
As soon as the shadow
of a fish appears,
I sign my name
on the surface.
Rain
What I love
most of all
is rain,
when it rinses
dirt off of the leaves
and yellowed grass
absorbs the water.
Until the world
reclaims
the sharpness of its colors.
New Moon
The plum wine
held out until spring.
Nearly a barrel.
And now, we celebrate
its arrival
with poetry and songs.
Now that the Moon
of Growing Grass
is here, and the mountain
pass
can again
be traversed.
Daylilies
The morning sun
glitters
on the crown
of a daylily.
A wellspring
that fills up
and a cruet
that empties
each day.