Sunday, 15 February 2009

Winter poems from Christine Busta

Here are two more Poet-in-Residence translations of Christine Busta's wonderful poems. Almost like a magician this insightful Austrian poet delights in revealing the unexpected, even when the subject is one we all take for granted.


Push me under the pack-ice
at the North Pole.

In hundreds of years the Eskimos
will say to their grand-children:

In the centre of the white desert
there's a hollow; it hasn't frozen
for hundreds of years.


The whiteness of winter was as dark as death.
Trees before the windows of the sick room
bloomed morning and evening black with crying.

At night I collected the crows' twigs,
a full bouquet of the silent heart of spring.
Who shall accept it?

Gwilym Williams
15th February 2009


  1. I believe that winter has to be more inspiring than other season. At least to me. It is a time of rest for nature before the spring explosion. It's the lack of color that pulls me too it. Our Earth is so amazing.
    Thank you for the lovely translations.

  2. Today it's snowing and the sun is shining through the snowflakes which look like slowly falling feathers.

  3. We'd love to obtain "Mavericks" for our libraries Poetry Collection.

  4. Tim,
    It was a limited edition of 20. I have nos. 1, 2, and 12 only. But I could send you no. 12. I presume it's for the University.
    Can you e-mail the address etc.?
    Best of bardic,

  5. Tim, please e-mail your info to


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