#czech - Hello Poetry

A carriage pulled by donkeys in yellow gloves rides into the village square The moon shines in the sky carrying the wild night on its shoulders Lamb clouds darken with fear – chased by a wolf – the Evening Out of the carriage looks HE – twenty years on his head and SHE just a little less People along the road graze on them with their eyes tearing piece by piece from their bodies: For the First Time For the Last Time Once Above the procession glows in a long strip the centre of our Galaxy toward the constellation of the Eagle – breathing with a thin and fragile balance of the Universe But no one here cares astronomy is beyond their gaze People say: it will rain or: not a drop for a week We have fun today – at last! The fever won’t catch us – in the lit dormers under the red cockerel of roofs no one dies The Two walk in a tight grip – squeezing knuckles – but their touches are cold For both – this evening is stiff in shoulders and they are forgetting they are not just wooden figurines Behind them the musicians - trumpets tinny singing the violins would rather not A march of beats and musicians walking through the quiet open land The neighbour stretches her neck like a giraffe to catch a piece of the wedding melody – torn by cold and tossed in the wind over the fences Grandma and grandpa joke – baring their gappy teeth at wooden chairs The village wheel turns *** Before the inn already waits a crowd: Downcast eyes a smile or a glance up – Two three scarves – the rest bare-headed A shovel sinks into the soft soil a pint slams on the table and someone retches at the thought that tomorrow the innkeeper will wade through a stubble of empty battered chairs asleep in the wildest positions It’s alive loud noisy but not a single clear word crawls out of their mouths Only the innkeeper laughs like an animal but no one minds no one thinks of him or of the lovers now They are forgotten sooner than they managed to grow up into their wedding clothes Dinner ends – Midnight is coming The coachman cracks his whip people jostle at the door They push HER and HIM outside – huddled together so they don’t feel the silence and dark on the way to church at the hour of ghosts Outside the snow creaks frost flows along the ground The holy mass in a church without a roof flies straight into the ears of night The priest searches in the book for Holy Scripture like grains in a field and at the words of the Last Judgement the graves behind the church come alive The lovers kneel on the tiles eyes hanging on the cross Their hands are trembling but the crowd sweeps them up tears the shyness slides on the wedding rings and joins together the first married kisses *** The way from the church is easier – outside God cannot guard them All the pagan desires stand along the road hidden behind the dewy trees

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May 15

May 15, 2026 at 3:40 PM UTC

Filip_P

Village wedding

A carriage pulled by donkeys in yellow gloves rides into the village square The moon shines in the sky carrying the wild night on its shoulders Lamb clouds darken with fear – chased by a wolf – the Evening Out of the carriage looks HE – twenty years on his head and SHE just a little less People along the road graze on them with their eyes tearing piece by piece from their bodies: For the First Time For the Last Time Once Above the procession glows in a long strip the centre of our Galaxy toward the constellation of the Eagle – breathing with a thin and fragile balance of the Universe But no one here cares astronomy is beyond their gaze People say: it will rain or: not a drop for a week We have fun today – at last! The fever won’t catch us – in the lit dormers under the red cockerel of roofs no one dies The Two walk in a tight grip – squeezing knuckles – but their touches are cold For both – this evening is stiff in shoulders and they are forgetting they are not just wooden figurines Behind them the musicians - trumpets tinny singing the violins would rather not A march of beats and musicians walking through the quiet open land The neighbour stretches her neck like a giraffe to catch a piece of the wedding melody – torn by cold and tossed in the wind over the fences Grandma and grandpa joke – baring their gappy teeth at wooden chairs The village wheel turns *** Before the inn already waits a crowd: Downcast eyes a smile or a glance up – Two three scarves – the rest bare-headed A shovel sinks into the soft soil a pint slams on the table and someone retches at the thought that tomorrow the innkeeper will wade through a stubble of empty battered chairs asleep in the wildest positions It’s alive loud noisy but not a single clear word crawls out of their mouths Only the innkeeper laughs like an animal but no one minds no one thinks of him or of the lovers now They are forgotten sooner than they managed to grow up into their wedding clothes Dinner ends – Midnight is coming The coachman cracks his whip people jostle at the door They push HER and HIM outside – huddled together so they don’t feel the silence and dark on the way to church at the hour of ghosts Outside the snow creaks frost flows along the ground The holy mass in a church without a roof flies straight into the ears of night The priest searches in the book for Holy Scripture like grains in a field and at the words of the Last Judgement the graves behind the church come alive The lovers kneel on the tiles eyes hanging on the cross Their hands are trembling but the crowd sweeps them up tears the shyness slides on the wedding rings and joins together the first married kisses *** The way from the church is easier – outside God cannot guard them All the pagan desires stand along the road hidden behind the dewy trees