Samuel Greenberg: American Poet

The motion of gathering loops of Water
Must either Burst - or remain in a moment
The violet colours Through the glass
Throw up - little swellings that appear
And spatter - as soon as another strikes
And is Born - so pure are they of coloured
Hues that we feel the absent strength of
its power - when they Begin - they gather
Like sand on the Beach - each buble
Contains a complete eye of water.
trans

Chanted echos can Be guaged
By musicians sensitive ears
The Bell of voices, that repeat as loud
As the colours of Heaven
Speech is often interfered by the ringing Music
Like voice - The singing efficiency are noted for their
Willful chorus and expression to any mood
or manner - interpetation of Birds etc --
The Braying lion is found or caught By the
Huntsman in the Heavy shallow deep growls
And the animal noices - The production of
scientific sounds. The wind uses the trees
as a Bow does a Violin, and you can feel and
imagine The Mighty globe on its axes.
trans

[An ode to the Lord christ]

"Christ o lord - thy trembling soothing danger
   That thou oer man has sworn
O King - O queen - O angels
   Bequeathed - In Hearts hath torn"

[The sermon]

God! Has shown us to a wonder Path
Whether tis darkness or light --
The seasons! -- The enemy of unknown Dreams --
or the Psyscic phylosophers of evolution - in birth --
in trance Where the Vikings of stargazers
Discovered Hidden bodies in Darkness
Thus this lofty joy - contains sincerity
Through science -- so are the rest of us, --
A Path that simply is opened and sentimental
Harshness disturbs -- Thus Forever influenced
By many Prostitutes, that Hell is to great a
Meaning For their Heavenly superstitions
that often shows itself in thy immortality
Meaning after thy death -- what thou
Hast chosen and examplified as truth!
trans

If we should wander the globe forever, we also
Would want to feel the other side of heaven.
Our bodies are fully given, no matter, in any
Growth; and if we fail, allowance to addition
Is adhered. As the mud pools receive the
Dripping rain, we see the reappearance
Of eye-bubbles dissolving water shade.
The sparkling visionary light in which we
Reveal the dream lies as a looking glass
In our future--and the remains--the skeleton abode!

In our Bible, the dream of Samuel is death,
As the clouds consume his form and bare him to Heaven--
The song from colored birds so lyric and sweet
We feel ourselves no more, and pray:
"Thus be it Heaven Heavenly. "
The tales of Christ and Moses feel sacred through their Godly power
Of beauty, angels in their discipline kept
Where the clouds are not on view; we pray:
"Thus be it Heaven Heavenly! "

Folding eyelid of the dew doth set,
The cover remains in the air;
And it rains the street, one color set,
Like a huge grey cat held bare.
The shadows of light, shadows in shade,
Are evenly felt, though parted thus;
Mine eyes feel dim and scorched from grey,
The neighboring lamps throw grey stained gold--
Houses in the distance like mountains seem,
The bridge lost in the mist--
The essence of life remains a screen;
Life itself in many grey spots
That trickle the blood until it rots . . .
A good-sized box with windows set
Seems like a tufted grey creature alive,
Smoothly sails o'er the ground,
Like the earth invisible in change doth strive.
Black spots, that rove here and there,
Scurry off, float into the cover.
Spot and grey were close together
When color mixes its choice, a lover.

When first I beheld
The sight of self alone,
Here standing upon a floor--
A new sensitive throne--
By dark corners round
I shaded myself, in hope
That some light or people
Would be seen through a grate.
But by the might of pictures
Each sighted object looked
As if my soul was but a fortune--
To its memory, meaning booked.

Lo! the foolish fell.
Silence about--
While the hero stood
And saw the gathering crowd.
What an awkward
Fall is this . . .
An unseen conqueror,
After looking toward
The shouting throng, arouses
A triumphing cry--
While David held the head
For those who stood by.