Creative Writing

By Miroslav Holub 1923–1998 Miroslav Holub

Translated By Rebekah Bloyd Read the translator's notes

On the express train to Vienna
she writes in her diary
notes about Rome and Naples.

Ink marks like parthenogenetic aphids,
pages like blood smears
of homing pigeons.

She is alone, gray, reconciled,
a Leda long after the swan's departure,
Odysseus retired at Lotophagitis.

Back home, in Maryland,
the notebook will be interred
in the archetypal drawer,

among the yellowed love letters,
among the infant hair curls,
among the dried adult flowers,

near the cushion where the castrated cat dreams
while Mahler's forever forever forever
chokes in the green wallpaper.

It is her message to imagined little sons;
it is her membership in the club
of Swifts, Goethes, Rimbauds, Horatiuses and   
                                          deathwatch beetles.

It is her monument outlasting bronze,
five-dimensional reality, the last engraving
of primeval man on reindeer bone,

the last drop
of the fluid soul
before evaporation.

Source: Poetry (April 2008).

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This poem originally appeared in the April 2008 issue of Poetry magazine

April 2008
 Miroslav  Holub

Biography

Miroslav Holub is a scientist by vocation and considers his poetry a pastime. Holub told Stephen Stepanchev in a New Leader interview that the Czech Writers Union had offered him a stipend equivalent to his salary as a research scientist to enable him to devote two years to his poetry. "But I like science," he said. "Anyway, I'm afraid that, if I had all the time in the world to write my poems, I would write nothing at all."

. . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Arts & Sciences, Reading & Books, Poetry & Poets

POET’S REGION Eastern Europe

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