Two Poems by Concordia Klar

By Concordia Klar


Two Poems by Concordia Klar

By Concordia Klar

Concordia Klar, Jump Without Landing, 1971. Soft ground. Art Museum of Estonia

Worry-strips on eyelashes,
worry-strips on eyelashes.

Crisscrossing fir roots
over a cascade of light,
clover’s crosses
over a work still to write.

Frost molds discs
in moments’ mute fall –
it is not that, before which
sinks nightly a fiery ball.

The path twisted and turned,
rays scattered about,
the aroma of decaying leaves.

Time walks swiftly, spurred,
holding our debt in its hands.

Concordia Klar, Safe from the Snowdrift, 1978. Vernis mou. Art Museum of Estonia

Clouds remain, paths remain, you are gone.
Left is the ground, left are the flowers, but you are not.
Wind carries the dandelion tufts from blossomed yearnings.
I read it all in faces gazed upon – I reckon this must be freedom.
And from a simple person I turn into a detailed construction,
from maybe a single opportunity I sing with the wind in unison,
sinking as metal into concrete.
Brittle teeth crumble from the mouth of time.

Concordia Klar, Staying to Blow the Whistle, 1976. Soft Ground. Art Museum of Estonia
Concordia Klar, Play, 1974. Soft ground. Art Museum of Estonia

Concordia Klar (1938–2004) was an Estonian printmaker. She graduated from the Estonian State Art Institute in 1963 and soon became interested in surrealist ideas. Klar’s visionary imagery often combines nature motifs and human figures – her series of women with musical instruments embodies harmony between the two. A lesser known fact is that Klar also wrote poetry and for this issue of A Shade Colder two of her poems from the 1970s have been translated to English for the first time.