warmth of death i
live in black of death i
live in that disappearing apparition
you and the black bough
of black of
believes without noticing you ask me with strings
on an order of space
of the apparition you and
the black of you under moments
only i am sacerdotal of
do not confess you ask me forever
print forever print forever print forever
defense minister avigdor liberman on sunday said us president donald trump did not ask for israels view before announcing his planned withdrawal of american troops from syria adding that the jewish state will likely have to operate alone against its various enemies he also slammed international criticism of the killing of nine palestinians during fridays clashes on the gaza border branding it hypocrisy and claiming there were no innocent people in gaza he later clarified that his use of the hebrew word tamim was intended to mean not innocent but naive president trump didnt ask me liberman said when asked during an interview with israel radio about the us plan to leave syria despite israeli fears of iranian-backed terror groups encroaching on its northern border i wouldnt presume to give advice that hasnt been requested from me
you ever forgive me
silent i'm not
il dolore il labbro già mi perdoni
i'm not dischiusa
meraviglia che orgoglio smisurato perché son debole d'argilla di
una fibra dischiusa
meraviglia che mi
cresce dentro non so che
chiama fibra di
decifrare weak clay
but premere il dolore se
trattiene nellehich drag
ma in fervide unghie
del mio tempo
tempo di demonio o
di decifrare da un orrible
step again drag me in fervide
proud for they are m'assale e mi trattiene nellein
if you ever forgive me
devi i'm not silent premere
“The Dark One threw me a glance like a dagger today. / Since that moment, I am insane; I can’t find my body.” Mirabai (trans. Robert Bly)
pretty along the baptist?
no is it
or the baptist?
no it is mirabai or
perfect again not
mirabai her not-slender wrist
along the baptist?
mirabai and the
no it is mirabai or the
and then the baptist their divine
their divine energies drunking
no it is krishna
it blue-faced like st. john the baptised
no is it placed
into this divine energy
I see your yesses coming from afar
and my own, like candles,
awaiting the centuries
A strong wind
carries off my hat my glasses my tattoo my arm
my leg and an eye
[I'm left there smiling before jets
gushing the joy of nothingness]
joy — it too alone
Stay, if you want, by my side
— even if no one understands us
[Why let that, too, smother us]
Just let it flow
Athinakis, Dimitris. “Delirium for the Four Legs of a Love.” Translated by Karen Emmerich. Austerity Measures: The New Greek Poetry, edited by Karen Van Dyck, New York: New York Review of Books, 2016, p. 11.
Tanto gentile e tanto onesta pare
La donna mia quand’ella altrui saluta
Ch’ogne lingua deven tremando muta,
E li occhi no l’ardiscon di guardare.
Ella si va, sentendosi laudare,
Benignamente d’umiltà vestuta;
E par che sia una cosa venuta
Da cielo in terra a miracol mostrare.
Mostrasi sì piacente a chi la mira,
Che dà per li occhi una dolcezza al core,
Che ’ntender no la può chi no la prova:
E par che de la sua labbia si mova
Un spirito soave pien d’amore,
Che va dicendo a l’anima: “Sospira.”
“So gentle and so virtuous she appears”
Trans. Luciano Rebay
So gentle and so virtuous she appears,
My lady, when greeting other people
That every tongue tremblingly grows silent,
And eyes do not dare gaze upon her,
She passes by, hearing herself praised,
Graciously clothed with humility,
And she appears to be a creature who has come
From heaven to earth to show forth a miracle.
She shows herself so pleasing to her beholders,
That she gives through the eyes a sweetness to the heart,
Which no one can understand who does not feel it;
And it appears that from her lip moves
A tender spirit full of love,
Which says again and again to the soul: “Sigh.”
Quem me dera que a minha vida fosse um carro de bois Que vem a chiar, manhãzinha cedo, pela estrada, E que para de onde veio volta depois Quase à noitinha pela mesma estrada.
Eu não tinha que ter esperanças — tinha só que ter rodas … A minha velhice não tinha rugas nem cabelo branco… Quando eu já não servia, tiravam-me as rodas E eu ficava virado e partido no fundo de um barranco.
I’d give anything if only my life were an oxcart Squeaking down the road, early one morning And later resuming to where it started, Toward nightfall, down the same road.
I’d have no need of hopes—I’d need only wheels… As I grew old I’d have no wrinkles or white hair… When I’d be of no further use, they’d pull off my wheels And I’d lie there, overturned and broken, at the bottom of a pit.
Source: Pessoa, Fernando. Poems of Fernando Pessoa. Trans. Edwin Honig and Susan M. Brown. San Francisco: City Lights, 2001. Print.