Tu Viendras

What with my obsession with vampires, narcissists, wolves in sheep's clothing, and the like, I shouldn't be surprised that on my walk today, I encountered a coyote. Yesterday on the same route, I encountered a small snake in the road. (Earlier that day I'd heard the warriorlike Lara Logan recount on Charlie Rose an Arabic saying, if there's a snake in your garden, sooner or later it'll wind up in your house.) I almost stepped on the snake and am glad I noticed it. It played dead for a few seconds, then coiled and spat. I ran.

Today no snake, but as I followed the road that runs along a creek, I walked past a colonial, painted white with black trim, which I have admired since I first saw it. It is set back a gracious distance from the road, and reminds me of the New England town where I grew up, back when it still looked New Englandy. A wooded grove adjoins the property, and in it I spotted an animal bounding diagonally and at great speed through the stand of trees, narrow trunks planted evenly as tombstones. At first I thought, oh, a rabbit. Kind of big for a rabbit, and kind of fast, but it quickly receded from view so I settled on rabbit. It ran far into the woods, disappearing, and I thought no more about it.

A few minutes later I saw it again. It had ranged back around, covering a considerable distance, and stood now in the middle of the road, about 30 feet ahead of me. It was just me and it, in a fairly desolate area. It was about the size of a German Shepherd, rather long in form like a bobcat maybe, with an extended flat, bushy tail, and dark eye mask. It looked purposeful, fit, and strong.

We regarded each other for a moment. I decided to address it in a loud voice. Well okay now, well now, well well well. It stood its ground, sizing me up. So I broke into song, that is, a piece of talismanic music from Krysztof Kieslowski's La Double Vie de Veronique. The coyote ran off, though unfortunately in the direction of precisely where I was heading. As I walked towards home, alongside a thicket into which I had seen the coyote disappear, I continued to sing, la-la-la since I don't know the words. A woman poked her head out her front door, perhaps wondering about the caterwauling. I recounted my siting and she asked, Is my dog still in the yard - my dog maybe? I glance to the side of the house where she's pointing. No ma'am, not your dog, an ancient, oblivious setter.

I'm bigger than the coyote, and maybe it understood that I'm of the biped hunter species rather than desirable prey. Or maybe music soothed the savage beast. Whatever it may have thought of my singing, it left me alone.

The experience prompted me to listen to the song again, to replay the opening scene of the film, whose score is composed by Zbigniew Preisner. The song is a ravishing, rapturous piece of music captured in a ravishing, rapturous piece of filmmaking. I had forgotten that the song has lyrics. Someone helpfully posted the original Polish with the youtube video. With aid of my dictionary, I endeavored to translate.

Przyjdziesz w upalny, skwarny dzień
Pod złoty żytni bróg
I legniesz jak liliowy cień
U moich nóg
Twój głos gdy srebrny sierp zadzwoni
Gdy o dojrzały bije ton
Pochylisz ku mnie miodny dzban
Pić będę z twoich dłoni
Przyjdziesz w upalny, skwarny dzień
W dolinę kwiatów, traw i słońca
Tam czekać będę z pieniem pień
Tam staniesz wszystka, piękna, drżąca
Przyjdziesz w upalny, skwarny dzień
Pod złoty żytni bróg
I legniesz jak liliowy cień
U moich nóg

Note: Judging from the line with gendered adjectives (Tam staniesz wszystka, piękna, drżąca), I take this poem to be the reverie of a passionate farmer dreaming of his mistress.

When You Come

You’ll appear in the heat of a scorching day
Beneath the rye, a golden heap
And lie there like a lilac shade
At my feet.
Your voice will ring like a silver scythe
When it strikes in perfected tone
You’ll tip towards me a honeyed jug
I will quaff from your palms.
You’ll approach in the heat of a scorching day
In a vale of flowers, grass and sun
That’s where I’ll wait, among the singing stalks
There you’ll stand complete, beautiful, atremble.
You'll come in the heat of a scorching day
Beneath the rye, a golden heap
And lie there like a lilac shade
At my feet.