Illustrations by Ella Manor Lapointe

Ella Lapointe- First snow

First Snow

 

There appears from silver grey grounds

a slim deer

in winter woods

and tests with care, toe by toe,

the pure, cool, freshly fallen snow.


And I think of you, most delicate formation.

 

C. Morgenstern/ Translated by N. Williams


November Day - Ella Lapointe

November Day

 

Fog hangs smoke like round the home

forcing introspection

Few go out and no-one roams: 

all fall in reflection. 

Hand and mouth shall calmer be, 

gestures gentler seeming 

and, like deep down in the sea, 

Man and Earth are dreaming.

 

C. Morgenstern/ Translated by Walter A. Aue

  


October Storm - Ella Lapointe

October Storm

 

Wild-swaying oak tree 


midst evening's red-


Lifestorm's dreams cloak thee 


with crimson dead-

Leaves, whirling hither, 


gossip, malign


nightcold the shiver 


runs up the spine. 

 

C. Morgenster/ Translated by Walter A. Aue

 

September day - Ella Lapointe

September Day

 

This is the autumn's sorrow-sweetened clearness, 


that liberates as well as it harangues; 


when crystal truth its spirit o'er the nearness 


of woods and mountains as a garment hangs.

This is the autumn's sorrow-sweetened clearness... 

 

Christian Morgenstern/ Translated by Walter A. Aue


Temptation - Ella Lapointe

Temptation

 

I stood upon the cliff's edge, still,

and looked below and spoke alone.

"Off and away, immortal one!

it costs a single word, 'I will'.

 

A God sleeps here, a God wakes there -

Off then and sleep!" your spirit bade.

"it is but form you give in trade,

no moment do you lose your core..."

 

- My day work is not done. It waits.

Whoever tears the husk aside

before the seed is ripe inside -

he goes to sleep too soon - and wakes-

too late.

 

C. Morgenstern/ Translated by Theodore Van Vliet
 


Vorfruehling_Ella.jpg

 

Eve of Spring

The leafless poplars stand as slender things,

so slim and fine as twilight's dun unfurls.

Blackbirds trill joyous, pure as mountain springs,

and wond'rous-waiting, breathless rests the world.

 

The wraithlike cloud, all heaviness and wet,

draws shade across the still unstarlit scene,

greys over in the fading west's rosette,

the peaks and vales - a crumpled, drunken dream.

 

C. Morgenstern/ Translated by Theodore Van Vliet