Saturday, 29 November 2014

Shame, Shame - Dulduityn Danzanravjaa

Alas and, the elders who have lived without charity, shame
Alas and, the stylish youth who have not cared for the soul, shame

Friday, 28 November 2014

Generation Found - Wayne Visser

Once I was a boy soldier  –
Now I’m shooting hoops
I’m not the generation lost
I’m bright and landing scoops

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Drowsy birds - Mihai Eminescu

Drowsy birds at even gliding,
Round about their nests alight,
In among the branches hiding . . .
                             Dear, good night!

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Clear night - Luis G. Urbina

Whiteness of dream, whiteness of polar days,
Glistening white that blanches out the tide;

Monday, 24 November 2014

Desire - Abdourahman Waberi

I am the rustling of the world
the swaying between here and elsewhere

Sunday, 23 November 2014

Oh let me leave this world - Else Lasker-Schuler

Then you will cry for me.
Copper beeches pour fire
On my warlike dreams.

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Wisdom - Magda Isanos

To breathe, and breathe on lightly, that is wisdom.
To find the strength to smile when teardrops flow.
To love a rose's fading, dying petals,
as quietly, so quietly, they go.

Friday, 21 November 2014

I do believe in happiness! - Sergei Esenin

I do believe in happiness!
The sun has not yet faded. Rays
Of sunrise like a book of  prayers
Predict the happy news. Oh yes!
I do believe in happiness!

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Down Where The Lonely Poplars Grow - Mihai Eminescu

Down where the lonely poplars grow
          How often have I erred;
My steps that all the neighbours know
          You only have not heard.

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Of the deceitful brevity of life - Luis de Góngora y Argote

The arrow goes less quickly to its target,
that it bites sharply; the straining chariot
does not race more silently
over the mute sand to the finish line,

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

[When Pontius Pilate, from the vantage] - Timur Kibirov

When Pontius Pilate, from the vantage
of progressive culture and cutting-edge knowledge,
asked the arrested Jew,
"What is Truth?"—

Sunday, 16 November 2014

The Broken Bell - Toru Dutt

'Tis bitter-sweet on winter nights to note,
Beside the palpitating fire reclined,
The chimes, across the fogs, upon the wind.

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Now it is autumn - Edith Södergran

Read the translator's notes
when all the golden birds
fly home across the blue deep water;

Sunday, 9 November 2014

A Letter To God - Lesego Setou

Dear God
How do you answer prayers?
How do you decide on the urgency of a prayer from another?
How do you decide when a prayer requires patience for its deliverance?
Teach me how to understand and serve you
Teach me how to focus on the greater good
Guide me to appreciate blessings disguised as disappointments
Enlighten me to the divinity of challenges
Allow me to seek, find and radiate my purpose
Guide me in ambassadoring you

Saturday, 8 November 2014

Fireworks aff the Castle - Matthew Fitt

Fireworks aff the Castle
Bairns in the library

Friday, 7 November 2014

Above, Upon The Mountains - Cyprien Desponrrius

Above, upon the mountains,
A shepherd, full of thought,
Beneath a beech sat musing
On changes time had wrought:
He told to every echo
The story of his care,
And made the rocks acquainted
With love and its despair.

Thursday, 6 November 2014

The Javanese - Marie Krysinska

                   The animated
                            Little idols
                            Oh, but
So slightly, this dance evokes the mad
Vision: from a bas-relief to living symbols
                   Hieratic and mute.

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Women's Rights - Annie Louisa Walker

You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish,
  Nor turn our thoughts away
From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission"
  Our hearts portray.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

Monday, 3 November 2014

November 3 - Kenji Miyazawa

Neither yielding to rain
nor yielding to wind
yielding neither to
snow nor to summer heat

Sunday, 2 November 2014

Boaz asleep - Victor Hugo

Overcome with weariness, he kept
To the same rough quarters as before:
All day had seen him on the threshing floor
And now, by sacks of wheat, tired Boaz slept.
He possessed, this good old man, large fields of wheat,
And barley too: was just, and passing rich.
His mill ran cleanly, fairly; he didn't switch
A neighbour's castings from the furnace heat.
His beard was silvered as an April stream;
His sheaves lay broad and open as the day.
Leave this or that to gleaners he would say.
Thoughtful this old man was: a kind regime.

Saturday, 1 November 2014

Venus - María do Cebreiro

The book is sexless. The book is a tree.

She was like morning frost.
He wore a ring on his little finger.