Thursday, 30 November 2017

Sonet of Venus and Cupid - Mark Alexander Boyd

Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod, I rin
Ourhailit1 with my feble fantasie,

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

It was the month of May - Juan Lorenzo Segura

It was the month of May, a glorious time,
    When merry music make the birds in boughs,

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

Song of a Young Girl - Flavien Ranaivo

tlie young man who lives down there
beside the threshing floor for rice;
like two banana-roots
on either side the village ditch,

Monday, 27 November 2017

Ode XIV: To the Roman State - Horace

O ship, new waves will bear you back again to sea.
O what are you doing? Bravely seize the port.

Sunday, 26 November 2017

Rising at midnight - Gregory the Great

Rising at midnight, one and all awaking,
Chant we in ceaseless round our matins sweet,
And to the Lord, melodious music making.
In tuneful quire our twilight hymns repeat.

Saturday, 25 November 2017

Women - Simonides of Amorgos

She from the steed of wanton mane
Shall spurn all servile toil and pain;
Nor shake the sieve, nor ply the mill
Nor sweep the floor, though dusty still.

Friday, 24 November 2017

Do not worry for to-morrow - Ben Sira

Do not worry for to-morrow,
As thou dost not know the sorrow
Which to-day bears in its train.

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Up and sing! - Mawlana (Taj ud-Din) Ahmed

Up and sing! O 'anqa-natured1 nightingale!
High in every business doth thy worth prevail:
Sing! for good the words are that from thee proceed;
Whatsoever thou dost say is prized indeed.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Idyl I: The Stray Cupid - Moschus

As Cupid from his mother Venus strayed,
Thus crying him aloud the goddess said,
"If any one a wandering Cupid see,
The little fugitive belongs to me:

Sunday, 19 November 2017

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Friday, 17 November 2017

Mame - Fatou Dioffé Bâ

Grandfather, last of my Fathers,
My luck, my hope, my essence,
Tell me about my roots, tell me about my rooted self.
Oh Father, how much I wished from you!

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Poetry - Lieke Marsman

At the moment it feels a bit like
those times I would try to find
a hiding place behind
the gym building yep, a dank place

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Days of my childhood - Michael Ghazarian Nalbandian

Days of my childhood, like a dream
Ye fleeted, to return no more.
Ah, happy days and free from care,
Ye brought but joy in passing o’er!

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Rear View Mirror - Cheela Chilala

Sweaty hands gripping the wheel
Perspiration on my brow,
My feet weary and my shoes worn,
I drive through life's tough terrain

Monday, 13 November 2017

Sunday, 12 November 2017

Factory of Tears - Valzhyna Mort

And once again according to the annual report
the highest productivity results were achieved
by the Factory of Tears.

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Shadows on the Land, II - Carlos Villagra Marsal

         Ill-fated land,
orphaned by your children,
mansion of forgetfulness
and of punishment.

Friday, 10 November 2017

Thursday, 9 November 2017

A Girl - Adriaan Morrien

I am too weak to keep up life’s renewal
within myself, my blood is too speechless; see
my fearing hands and see my lap

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Clotilde - Guillaume Apollinaire

Anemone and columbine
Where gloom has lain
Opened in gardens
Between love and disdain

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

Sunday, 5 November 2017

Saturday, 4 November 2017

Mack The Knife - Bertolt Brecht

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear
And he shows them pearly white.
Just a jack knife has Macheath, dear
And he keeps it out of sight.

Friday, 3 November 2017

The Seeing Blindness - Kushal Poddar

We watch the slim women model
for our favorite potato wafers.
What is silence but the crunching incisions?

Thursday, 2 November 2017

The Arms of Bodhisatva - Tiziana Colusso

What is wisdom
if not inscribed in the natural flux of things?

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

My Dear and Only Love - James Graham

My dear and only Love, I pray
    This noble world of thee
Be govern'd by no other sway
    But purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part,
    Which virtuous souls abhor,
And hold a synod in thy heart,
    I'll never love thee more.