Eastertide Poem by Leo Yankevich
Eastertide
A sudden brightness. Call it day.
Rooks above the cathedral, and clouds
a thousand shades of morning grey,
while underneath: the coiling crowds
bear their pastries and precious fruit.
The cobble-stones shimmer in the rain
as ‘glory, glory’ the bells bruit
past the sinners along the lane.
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When the reader is so totally 'there' with a poet, heart, mind, and bodily memories, so that no 'critical' assessment or comparison is valid (as at the moment of an experience being experienced) - is that not the highest poetry?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:16:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Great imagery in this piece, the blessings of Easter fare