STEPS A man was going on the grains compact the coast of Geraldton, alongside waves hesitant on shells, the smooth incessant restless Indian Ocean. Walking does not imitate, he thought, wondering where to go, a bit ‘sterposo, he thought on these sands otherwise deserted by mounds of seaweed scattered purple and black rocks with strange shapes, could walk forever, the …
Read More »WHAT STARTS AND ENDS: Poetry, MarÃa Baranda
WHAT STARTS AND ENDS That starts and ends, when she looks at the precipice of blue ink? And it is having been behind the bars of the sunrises, bent, dig now in your meat cut, scratchy tucked the summit, opening heaven in your particles under the caste rain water. Woman on which beach you will, in which your ships and …
Read More »ROMANTIC MOON: Poetry, by Konstantin Balmont
ROMANTIC MOON When the moon shines in the night mist, with his scythe tender and shiny, my soul aspires to another world, enchanted by infinite distances. The woods, the mountains, the snow-white peaks, I hasten in dreams as a spirit sick, I watch the world peaceful, and softly cry and breath the moon. I absorb this pale splendor, as an …
Read More »LITHUANIA: Poetry, by Janina Degutyté
LITHUANIA You are small, you easily holds the palm of Ciurlionis, you are our slice of bread and butter on the table of the world, apparecchiata festively. Microscopic point on the globe, steel plate on the armor of Grünwald, residual Pirciupiai in the heat of the blood, crystal drop of a lake blue, green dawn of a fallow field, rain …
Read More »THE SKY: Poetry, by Wislawa Szymborska
THE SKY Window without railing, without frames, without glass. An opening and nothing beyond, only amplitude. I do not have to wait for a clear night, nor raise his head to look at the sky. The sky I behind, arm and on the eyelids. The sky around me tightly, and lifts me from below. Even the highest mountains, is not …
Read More »SHADOWS: Poetry, by Henrik Nordbrandt
SHADOWS So I thought of you, and I have written so much about you, not to know who you were. In so many rooms I slept, without you by my side, and many are the houses in which I lived, without you. Many are the cities where I met you. There are many things that I need, or lost on …
Read More »CERTAIN THAT HURTS: Poetry, by Karin Boye
CERTAIN THAT HURTS Of course it hurts when buds open. Why otherwise should hesitate spring? Why should our whole burning nostalgia, be it related to pale and bitter frost? Yet the bud was casing all winter. What’s new, now, that affects and press? Of course it hurts when buds open, hurt that grows, and what it contains. Of course it …
Read More »I AM NOT A WOMAN: Poetry, by Edith Södergran
I AM NOT A WOMAN I’m not a woman. I’m a neutral thing. I am a child, a pageboy and a bold decision, am a ray of sunshine laughing scarlet. I am a fishing net for all the voracious fish, I am a glass in honor of all women, I am a step towards the case and ruin, am …
Read More »TRACKS: Poetry, by Henrik Ibsen
TRACKS Death does not put me more afraid. They get so many comrades continually. I will find the way following quietly their fresh tracks. (Henrik Ibsen) http://www.amazon.com/Ibsens-Poems-Henrik-Ibsen/dp/8200074552
Read More »BLACK AND WITHE PICTURES: Poetry, by Gyrdir Eliasson
BLACK AND WITHE PICTURES Star outfitted in a row gray fence in front of the house gray in the fog they start up flight from the fog on black wings into the light. (Gyrdir Eliasson) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stone-Tree-Gyrdir-Eliasson/dp/1905583087
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