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POETRY

THE HURRICANE: Poetry, by Léopold Sédar Senghor

THE HURRICANE The hurricane uproots everything around me, the hurricane uproots me in leaves and useless words. Whirlwinds of passion hiss silent, but peace is the tornado arid, on the escape of the rainy season. You wind burning pure wind, wind of summer, it burns you every flower, every thought compartment, when the sand dunes lies on the heart. Anvella, …

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WE NOW THERE WE GO, GRADUALLY: Poetry, by Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin

WE NOW THERE WE GO, GRADUALLY We now we go little by little, to the land where joy and peace. Perhaps, soon I’ll have to pick up my mortal remains for the journey. Care birch forests! O earth! And you, the sands of the plains! Before this crowd of runners, I have no strength to hide my sadness. I loved …

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EXERCISE OF STYLE: Poetry, by Carmen Camacho

EXERCISE OF STYLE I’ll try not to use perfect words, such beauty, freedom, your light. Too big, they are waiting. More urgently, it says: last night I counted with the body, three hundred fingers of your hand. (Carmen Camacho)

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ONE DAY WILL EXIST: Poetry, by Rainer Maria Rilke

ONE DAY WILL EXIST One day there will the girl and the woman, whose name will no longer mean only one opposed to the male, but something in itself, something that will not be expected to complete and border, but only in real life: the feminine humanity. This progress will transform the experience of love, which is now full of …

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WOMAN: Poetry, by Jesús Díaz Armas

WOMEN Woman who does not have a face and voice name, who ever convened in my dream, come and tell me what, by that bank, that time return transmuted, or come to meet me. As ever, I have to read you sign woman, to do that you have come,  back to desire. (Jesus Diaz Armas)

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SOMETIMES YOUR SADNESS IS A YACHT: Poetry, by Jack Underwood

SOMETIMES YOUR SADNESS IS A YACHT Huge, white and expensive, like an anvil dropped from heaven: how will we get onboard, up there, when it hurts our necks to look? Other times it is a rock on the lawn, and matter can never be destroyed. But today we hold it to the edge of our bed, shutting our eyes, on …

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LANGUAGES: Poetry, by Bei Dao

LANGUAGES Many languages are spoken, now, in this world. Soaring words, meet, meet, collide, they create sparks, sometimes hate, sometimes love. Higher the rise of rationality, but without sinking voice, with thoughts fragile and lightweight, bamboo tablets, a woven basket, filled with blind poisonous mushrooms. Those quadrupeds painted on the rock, they trample the flowers they galloped over, but a …

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THE WORMS: Poetry, by Kamala Das

THE WORMS At sunset, on the river bank, Krishna loved him for the last time and went. That night, in the arms of her husband, Radha felt so dead that he asked: “What’s wrong? Do you mind if I kiss you, love? And she said: “No, not at all,” but he thought, “What does it matter to the body of …

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MARICHIKO, POEMS OF LOVE: If I think

IF I THINK If I thought I could go away to come to you, ten thousand miles would be a mile. But we’re in the same city and I dare not see you, and a mile It is longer than a million miles. (Marichico) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Poems-Marichiko-Kenneth-Rexroth/dp/0879221003      

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OUR HANDS IN THE WATER: Poetry, by Yves Bonnefoy

OUR HANDS IN THE WATER We fidget this water. In it, our hands are sought, sometimes touching, broken shapes. Further down, is a current, is something invisible, other trees, other lights, other dreams. And look, are also other colors. Refraction transfigures the red. It was a summer day? No, it is the time that will change the sky, and into …

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