Venice masks

Saturday, 30 September 2017

The Baby - Kālidāsa

On parents’ knees, a naked, new-born child,

Thursday, 28 September 2017

Vexing - Li Shangyin

Encountering magnificently flavoured food, the spleen, stomach not cooperating
Enjoying drink the whole night, then finding the wine vessel empty

Tuesday, 26 September 2017

High Ride in the Streets - Gregor Podlogar

sun rays have ripped open the clouds' bellies
the rain has stopped tourists are exhausted

Monday, 25 September 2017

Sunday, 24 September 2017

Adoration - Madame Guyon

I love my God, but with no love of mine,
     For I have none to give;

Saturday, 23 September 2017

Always repeating the same mistake - Anat Zecharia

Always repeating the same mistake
going up and down the escalators
passing shops, billboards, neon signs,
hundreds of thousands of things for sale: running shoes
a glass brooch, old-fashioned soap flakes, a small tube
short white socks, buy one, get one free.

Friday, 22 September 2017

Landslides - Kevin Isaac

Wishes...frozen in time
Like low-hanging fruits
Sweetening on branches of reminiscences

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Grey Hair - Ashjan Al Hendi

Jasmine fixed its heart in her braid
a flowering rivulet
touched her hair
the flavor of perfume
slept on her breath

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Winter - Eeva-Liisa Manner

Leaves float, hours, seasons
from room to room.

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

a passing glimpse of the first of may, storypoem - Hipólito Alvarado

this is the morning filled with little flags
birds
              children
people at the fiesta in the park

Monday, 18 September 2017

Seven-Headed Beast - Astrid Cabral

The more I age
the more heads I snip from the seven-
headed beast. And then I recognize him,
my intimate, my neighbour.

Sunday, 17 September 2017

Mother to be do you ponder the future - Bruce Levitan

Mother to be do you ponder the future,
Wondering whether the world will be safe;
For a new baby will there be some refuge
In a land so filled with orphans and waifs?

Friday, 15 September 2017

Calcutta and I - Sunil Gangopadhyay

Calcutta is a dead weight on my heart:
I must destroy her before I go.
I shall seduce her away to Haldia port
and feed her sweets spiked with arsenic—
Calcutta is a dead weight on my heart.

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Mud Flats - Kim Soo-Bok

She lies there with her hugely pregnant body.
At dawn a ship leaves, cutting through her stomach.
As it emerges from her body, headed for the sea,

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

When It Is Raining - Zbyněk Hejda

When it is raining,
the pond looks
as if it is just convalescing

Monday, 11 September 2017

Two Birds - Anzhelina Polonskaya

Two birds on the grey, ashy sand.
The sleeping bird is on the right; her feathers are dull

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Mozart’s Requiem - Stella Vinitchi Radulescu

They have lived a stone life, a star life, a rat life,
tears wiped out by the Siberian wind, packages wrapped
in despair,
moved from prison to prison, from age to age.

Friday, 8 September 2017

War and a Woman - Saba Kidane

War and a woman I sing.
A country
needs a woman
to find peace.

Thursday, 7 September 2017

Red Thistle - Umberto Piersanti

when the sirocco ceases, the bitter cliff
—the thorns remain through the long winter,
the ox moans as its white mass
sinks down through the snow—
throws out its flowers among the sticks

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

Ambush - Gbemisola Adeoti

The land is a giant whale
that swallows the sinker,
with hook, line and bait

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

Monday, 4 September 2017

Catfish in the Woods -Yoko Danno

My dog suddenly runs off
slipping the leash
startled by a wild beast.

Sunday, 3 September 2017

My Small White Dog and I - Silja Walter

My small white clog and I,
We walk through every door we see
We shiver and we cry.
We look for you. We look for me.

Saturday, 2 September 2017

Friday, 1 September 2017

Illicit - D.H. Lawrence

In front of the sombre mountains, a faint, lost ribbon of
             rainbow,
And between us and it, the thunder;
And down below, in the green wheat, the labourers
Stand like dark stumps, still in the green wheat.