Micra - Mirza Rahchan Kayil

When you lie with me and love me,
You give me a second life of young gold;

Burn - Inger-Mari Aikio

in the morning I'm horny
but there are guests on the way

Africans - João Melo

Our paths are as old
as the ones worn by mankind.
We carved paths since the beginning, since we departed
our forests of origin and crossed the still-fertile Sahara,

Thee, O Christ, the Father’s splendor - Rabanus Maurus

Thee, O Christ, the Father’s splendor,
Life and virtue of the heart,
In the presence of the angels
Sing we now with tuneful art,
Meetly in alternate chorus,
Bearing our responsive part.

Who will listen to me - Toyo Mori

"Mama. where are you?
Papa. are you around?"
 

They are mine.
But am I theirs?
I'm confused.
 

When I cried. I cried alone,
No father listening to my pain,
No mother wiping my tears.
No brother's hand comforting me.

Lot's wife - Iryna Tsilyk

“There’s nothing in this country,” Lot’s wife says
impetuously and with disdain. “But it’s true. What can you get here?”
The soup’s boiling, someone else’s child is sleeping (for twenty zloty an hour),
while Lot drives back cars from Holland to sell.

Words of Woe - Poltu

I found you a word in my dictionary:
Enchanting, like you, a dancing fairy
You found me another in your book of words:
Revolting, 'cause I’m strictly for the birds

Roots and Rain - Haya Alhajri

The walls once echoed with our names,
A choir of love, of laughs, of games.
Now silence sleeps in every room,
Where memories bloom through quiet gloom.

A phone-call - Rafiq O’zturk

My poor dad
would love to be proud of me.
He is glad
if he finds something
that was lost long ago.

Q’esintuu - Odi Gonzales

no longer rooted in me no longer
is the roaring force
of a horn blower