Veni Creator

Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards or when snow
covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.
I am only a man: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the stairway of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well, that the statue in church
lifts its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore call one man, anywhere on earth
not me—after all I have some decency—
and allow me, when I look at him, to marvel at you.

-Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004), Nobel Prize winning Polish poet, exiled to the US

Gratitude

A tempest threw a rainbow in my face
so that I wanted to fall under the rain
to kiss the hands of an old woman to whom I gave my seat
to thank everyone for the fact that they exist
and at times even feel like smiling
I was grateful to young leaves that they were willing
to open up to the sun
to babies that they still
felt like coming into this world
to the old that they heroically
endure until the end
I was full of thanks
like a Sunday alms-box
I would have embraced death
if she'd stopped near by

gratitude is a scattered
homeless love



-- Anna Kamienska (1920-1986), Polish Roman Catholic poet, children’s book author, translator and writer, from Astonishments: Selected Poems of Anna Kamienska, edited and translated by Grazyna Drabik and David Curzon

A Prayer That Will Be Answered

Lord let me suffer much

and then die

Let me walk through silence
and leave nothing behind not even fear

Make the world continue
let the ocean kiss the sand just as before

Let the grass stay green
so that frogs can hide in it

so that someone can bury his face in it
and sob out his love

Make the day rise brightly
as if there were no more pain

And let my poem stand clear as a windowpane
bumped by a bumblebee's head


-- Anna Kamienska (1920-1986), Polish poet, translator, children's book author, and convert to Roman Catholicism; translated from Polish by Thomas P. Krzeszowski & Desmond Graham

Hope

Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all thing you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.

You cannot enter. But you’re sure it’s there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.

Some people say that we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
There are the ones who have no hope.
They think the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hand of thieves.

-Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004), Polish poet and diplomat


Photo: Paper cranes hang in the rear window of St. Augustine's Chapel at Vanderbilt University, 2016.

Veni Creator

Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards or when snow
covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.
I am only a man: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the stairway of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well, that the statue in church
lifts its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore call one man, anywhere on earth,
not me—after all I have some decency—
and allow me, when I look at him, to marvel at you.

--Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004) Polish poet and emigre, translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Pinsky

Photos:
1)Angel statue in Christ Church Cathedral, where I and my friends Maria and Andrew were ordained to the priesthood one year ago today. The Veni Creator Spiritus was sung at our ordination.
2) Andrew, Maria, and I on our ordination night.