improv-ed rough, riffed, quick translations from a longer poem
in progress - 'to better the feathered choirs' by Kostas Galanis whose name means
Kostas = 'constant/steadfast'
Galinis = 'someone with blue, pale eyes', derived from the Greek 'galanos', meaning 'azure', 'milky' or 'blue' -
the name can also mean 'farmer' as well as
'son of a priest'
1
(all praise) and what marvelous
vapor is life restive (as are days)
in thousand undulate congregations
no need for falconer after all
when Chaos a'daze of a Sunday
evening seems to know something
so falls into
purple fields
(O Low,
He Who Is Lowered,
remember then Hartford's
'purple light' 'the sedge')
edged by sheer snow peaks
where sheep surefeet know
no fear of heights and there
do dung and play fearless
or at least pretend not to
fall in their waking dream
which is the thing -
2
concavity curves in
a dead hatchling's
sparkless eye reflecting
dead eggs perfect
forms soft
no fear of heights and there
do dung and play fearless
or at least pretend not to
fall in their waking dream
which is the thing -
when
joy's winged
malingerers
rise in sudden
annunciate thunder
3
One old bird said once, my
being newly fledged/flung,
me at her knobby wither-knees,
admiring her mustache and tooth,
told me, she, to observe, to note
1 or 3 'do re mi's' or more like the,
or to better the, feathered choirs,
so try at least to sing
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