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poetry
Michel Galiana, 1 july 2015
Karantez (Love)
The young man
1. I chose a charming lover,
And she was my next neighbour,
How fine!
I had decided to go and visit her
In the night!
She was asleep, as I came: a dreadful plight! -
The girl
2. - At my door who is knocking?
There is no such awful thing
As noise!
Resting at night is a thing a girl enjoys! -
The young man
3. - "Your wooer and your suitor,
Your most passionate lover,
Is here
Who wants to be by your side tonight, my dear."
(Then, ashamed of his own words:)
4. Quickly, off I have taken
My cap. Inside an oven
I've hid.
Did she see me? I doubt that she could know me
If she did:
This her great amount of suitors should forbid!
5. Off I ran to the river
The path was altogether
Narrow,
Further downward was a bridge that was awkward,
And so low!
Heels over head I fell! The place was shallow.
6. A nightingale that gazed
At me, and had a blaze
On its brow!
Many a word it said, but the saucy bird
On the bough,
It did not help me, but it scoffed at me now! -
The nightingale
7. - A girl under a bed sheet
That you fondle is great treat,
It's true!
Flirting with eels in the brook is great fun too!
8. Should come round Willie the wolf,
Whom would he care to engulf,
But you?
Not a rest cure, to go wenching or to woo! -
The young man
9. - The stars that high up twinkle
They wait for your chant, fickle
Fellow!
Pay court to them, leave me alone here below! -
The nightingale
10. - Unfortunate bird, never
Did I harm whomsoever ,
In life,
Nor shall I do! Don't tell me your tale of woe!
11. You'll spend a good night, I'm sure!
To meet you was a pleasure,
For me!
I am like a fisher woman who prays the
Rosary
When fishing, always on the alert to be. -
Translated from the Breton
Gert Strydom, 1 july 2015
A large golden moon
(in answer to Riana maiden name Marais (Strydom) Kruger)
A large golden moon hangs
above the row of jacarandas in the avenue
and when I see it, it is so near
that it feels as if I can get pieces of it
and now your promises comes back to me
that you will stay at my side
even though weeks, months and years go by
but without you the moon keeps turning in its orbit
and promises of love that last eternally
I can now forever forget
just as the heat of your heart and body
as for me nothing is written in the planets
and I can find no promises in the stars
when the branches of the trees move around in the wind
and it seems as if the stars are jumping
but still I do wonder what the new day is gong to bring
and even if I could discover the most heartfelt secrets of the moon
it would not bring you closer to me.
Reference:
“Full moon by Riana maiden name Marais (Strydom) Kruger” (My own translation)
“A Golden and silver moon
.hangs on a karee branch in my avenue.
When I look through the window
I can almost reach to it.
I can almost touch it,
almost, almost catch it.”
“Long ago you did promise
that you would bring me
the sun and moon and stars.
What is written in the planets tonight…
longing for the heat of your body?”
“Chorus”
“If I could attach the moon
to a chain around my neck
then forever I would be able to discover its secrets,
would be able to hold it against my heart
and I would be able to fold my empty arms around it.”
“Like lost promises
the silver rays fall into a water puddle.
The man in the moon is only a dream
that sometimes fills my days and nights of grief.”
“Just a dream, just a dream.”
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
YOUR LYRICS
Unknown words
seep in your ears
but like Van Gogh
a painter shapes
his thimble of fears
a poet is often unaware
of hieroglyphics
until his symbols
of his enigma
become the grammar
of his poem's lyrics.
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
ALONG HOLLYWOOD BLVD.
Outside the squirrels
hide in the leaves
of Evergreen branches
on the hillside
a solitary singer
offers her blue Monday
tune in a raindrop
moistened by the language
planted from her tongue,
it is a time of morning silence
when our initials
are hung over
by the summer rosebushes
on a rubbed-out signature
in pure gestured breathless fire
the wind rushes to the memory
of a young poet's nature
in the wilderness woods
dressed by a motionless hour
near passer-by processions
of soccer stars on summer floats
along the corner
as a child with a new compass
wishes to be easily assured
to live in tourist pictures
from a pretense and charade
on a cash in Hollywood
and Vine lines delivered by
finely dressed actors for hire
on Los Angeles admired time.
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
SZYMBORSKA'S BIRTHDAY
July 2
1923-2012
Words aglow
even as you sleep
in spilled out memory
we recollect
your pocket poems
in our ringed memory
from secrets,wonder,voices
we have to love
with no hours to lose
when you open our secrets
from your nature's language
and tomorrow in Warsaw
the birds will be out
sunning themselves
in your house's ledge
returning to their shadows
and the four winds
of you translated in silence.
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
COMMODITY (1943)
to Symborska's memory
What an oddity
the world thinks of us
as a commodity
at a blink and loss
we are not to be sold
for forty pieces
of silver or gold
yet we are told daily
not to be temperamental
we are by the threshold
of a bidding war
to skin us alive
yet we want to console
our flesh to survive
hiding the yellow stars
in cattle cars
in the far country
we stand by the manger
as a stranger to the creche
or by Jesus cross
with 1943 nails
upon the tree
three souls are bargaining
for their lives
by Warsaw's ghetto gates
it starts to snow
we ask for angels
as a poets life waits
not lost to our manifold soul.
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
PEACE
At the light
of day that gives
us peace
by a labyrinth
of branches
in a hyacinth warmth
at the name
of the sea
which gazes at us
reaching for a shell
at a shadow of stone
by the beach lighthouse
squirrels climb the hill
at noon in a quandry
when life is at a standstill.
Satish Verma, 30 june 2015
The Nirvana
Tracing the primordial culture of truth
in its oneness, we find the ultimate answer.
Still the negative effect prevails
increasing the confusion.
Existence in now, has a travesty of truth.
Can we breakaway from our past?
Can we exist between right and wrong?
Between good and evil?
Between truth and fiction?
How many faces has reality?
The Self amalgamates the formulations
provides the mind with the safe exits.
The visualization
was not a happening, not actuality
an escape from pain & reality?
The thoughts were always disturbing
creating a false identity.
Thoughtless self had no movement.
Was that the nirvana?
The final moksha?
Satish Verma, 29 june 2015
Dying Beautifully
I stay connected out of the body,
with fireworks,
to widen the relativity,
to read the language of fear.
Death of a tree was mourned
by leaves in shadow.
The dew lies awake crying.
The town was disappearing
without a dialogue
with past, we were digging our heritage.
In search of roots
life was killing the tomorrow.
You an answer seeking
which was not yet born.
Over the mind
an ancient prayer floats.
The house was on fire
the words cannot cover the flaming body.
It was dying beautifully.
The space between the memories
will shrink and we will destroy
the ugly calender.
Satish Verma, 28 june 2015
Found Yourself
A parallel pain walks with you
when you split into space and time.
You were too shy to die, to feel
the anguish and bliss of death.
Something inside you springs
into a tree for a half-life.
The search for the meaning of life
takes roots in calamities.
They get back at you, the paranoids
on the horizon line, where the galaxy
meets the paradox, the void, the fear.
Any physical possibility generates the sparks.
The realization takes you back in mud and grass
outside the body to rest in peace.
The formless listening, seeing without objects
furthers hyperesthesia.
You have found yourself in emptiness!
Latest comments:
17 january 2026
sam53
myślę że to jeszcze nie koniec tegorocznej
17 january 2026
podoba mi się komentarz... dzięki :)
17 january 2026
Weronika
Nie ma zależności. Podobno.
17 january 2026
violetta
Kiedy będzie to niewiadomo:)
17 january 2026
O tak:)
17 january 2026
Dziękuję i pozdrawiam:)
16 january 2026
Jaga
Bogactwo błędów, ileż to szkół otwartych...
16 january 2026
Szybko się psują :))
16 january 2026
Stary zegar w czasie przyszłym już dokonanym,
16 january 2026
Nieobliczalny, choć mierzony w milisekundach:)
16 january 2026
Uznali, że nie warto wskrzeszać przeszłości.
16 january 2026
smokjerzy
smycz już się wydłużyła...:)
16 january 2026
wiesiek
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