February 2015
I am a student at the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA Program, where I study poetry and translation. My work was selected in a contest hosted by Missouri State University Press to be included in the anthology Proud to Be: Writing by American Warriors,
(volume 3). My poetry and translations have appeared in Cardinal Sins, Boston Thought, Malpais Review and many other joutnals, both online and print.
(volume 3). My poetry and translations have appeared in Cardinal Sins, Boston Thought, Malpais Review and many other joutnals, both online and print.
Give Me
Give me the fierce, the limitless oceans,
the tendency of the tide
that does not falter,
the frosted sand,
unanswered letters sealed in bottles.
Give me the winter,
the wasted landscape,
the field without a sign of life,
the resilience of the crackling heather.
And the rabbit as he looks before
he jumps the barbed fence—
jumps to breed—
or eat—
jumps to flee the perched falcon—
Give me snow-heavy firs slanted
into the hillside
like soldiers plodding
on their final march. Give me
a question, no response.
Going Blind
by Rainer Maria Rilke (translated from the German by DJS)
She sat just like the others at the table.
A second look revealed she held her cup
a little oddly as she picked it up.
She smiled once. It almost hurt.
And when they finished it was time to stand
and slowly they departed, roaming room
to room (they talked and laughed). I noticed her.
She was fumbling far behind the rest of them,
uneasy, like someone who will perform
a song before a mighty audience;
upon her sparkling eyes, which brightly gleamed,
the light reflected just as off a pond.
She followed slowly, and it took awhile
as if an obstacle was blocking her direction;
and yet: it is as though, once overcome,
she would be beyond all walking, and would fly.
by Rainer Maria Rilke (translated from the German by DJS)
She sat just like the others at the table.
A second look revealed she held her cup
a little oddly as she picked it up.
She smiled once. It almost hurt.
And when they finished it was time to stand
and slowly they departed, roaming room
to room (they talked and laughed). I noticed her.
She was fumbling far behind the rest of them,
uneasy, like someone who will perform
a song before a mighty audience;
upon her sparkling eyes, which brightly gleamed,
the light reflected just as off a pond.
She followed slowly, and it took awhile
as if an obstacle was blocking her direction;
and yet: it is as though, once overcome,
she would be beyond all walking, and would fly.
©2015 Domenic J. Scopa
