LIFT UP YOUR FACE
Lift up your face, light
Breaking, stare at the sky
Consoling for night by day
That chases the ghosts of the trees
And the ghosts of the brain,
Making fresh what was stale
In the unsleeping mummery
Of men and creatures horribly
Staring at stone walls.
Lift up your head, let
Comfort come through the devil's clouds,
The nightmare's mist
Suspended from the devil's precipice,
Let comfort come slowly, lift
Up your hand to stroke the light,
Its honeyed cheek, soft-talking mouth,
Lift up the blinds over the blind eyes.
Out of unsleeping cogitations,
When the skeleton of war
Is with the corpse of peace,
(Notes not in sympathy, discord, unease),
The only visitor,
Must come content.
Therefore lift up, see, stroke the light.
Content shall come after a twisted night
If only with sunlight.
The Poems of Dylan Thomas
Dylan Thomas (1941)
Photo by Bill Brandt
*
In Hungarian: Emeld föl arcod
Performace by Závory Andrea
Music: Bran
The poems were translated by Gábor Erdődi.
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