I found it - Fadwa Tuqan

I found it on a beautiful, sunny day.

I found it after great loss:

Fresh verdant soil,

Wet and flourishing.

I hate you - I love you - Vazha Pshavela

I hate you because, why are you powerless 

with strong arm and weeping face 

and your fate, fate black fate 

why shrouded always in black? 

Why an introduction, since you are within me - Mahadevi Verma

Why an introduction dear, you are within me,

    reflections on starry nights, memories of a life,

creations of life in short spells, eyes notice

    creations of life in short spells, eyes notice gentle footsteps!

Take Your Gun - Jacob Bronowski

Man, take your gun: and put to shame

earthquake and plague, the acts of God.

You maim the crazy and the lame.

The earth does not get fat - Anonymous Ngoni tribesman

The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of those who wear the head plumes*

We shall die on the earth.

The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of those who act swiftly as heroes.

Shall we die on the earth?

Scheme - Takis Papatsonis

There is no brighter thing than Truth.

Do you search with love and madness to find her?

Is your research fruitful like the Night,

knowing for sure that the Sun will burst pompously?

The Dance - Siamanto

In a field of cinders where Armenian life was still dying,

a German woman,

trying not to cry

told me the horror she witnessed:

Purgatory - Lynn Mugisha

HB: “I suffer because I imagine the two of us, I suffer because that’s the most I can do.”

MG: “Suffering feels religious only if you do it right.”

Like making a church out of this body.

Placing this rib aside,

making an exorcism of all the reasons not to.

Midday and the Cold Sleep - Bhupi Sherchan

In the newspaper's "wanted" column,

I seek the face of my future,

I search for a foothold in every procession,

To a tropic reef - Hugh Fuller

Oh, murmuring reef

Changing while yet unchanged,

No earthly power can ‘ere erase

The jagged contours of your face;

You Changeless One, Whom Nothing Changes - Søren Kierkegaard

You Changeless One, whom nothing changes!

On the Tomb of Sayid - Abd Almalec Alharithy

Lest are the tenants of the tomb!

With envy I their lot survey;

For SAYID shares the solemn gloom,

And mingles with their mouldering clay.

 

The Horizon (A conversation between a child and its mother) - Frans Michael Franzén

"See! where to earth bends down the sky! 

See how the morning clouds up-roIlcd 

Tinge the far forest with their gold. 

And we delay — both thou and I, 

To go to heaven, my mother dear, 

When every day it is ho near."

Cha Till Maccruimein (Departure of the 4th Camerons) - Ewart Alan Mackintosh

The pipes in the streets were playing bravely,

⁠The marching lads went by,

With merry hearts and voices singing

⁠My friends marched out to die;

Sonnet I - Fernando Pessoa

Whether we write or speak or do but look

We are ever unapparent. What we are

Cannot be transfused into word or book.

Ripened Fruit - Thomas O'Hagan

I know not what my heart hath lost;

  I cannot strike the chords of old,

The breath that charmed my morning life

  Hath chilled each leaf within the wold.

Lament IV - Jan Kochanowski

Thou hast constrained mine eyes, unholy Death,

To watch my dear child breathe her dying breath:

To watch thee shake the fruit unripe and clinging

While fear and grief her parents' hearts were wringing.

Self-Portrait as a Silk Purse - Patrick Cotter

On this shelf lies a small gathering of heirlooms

from four generations. I am the oldest.

Too tiny ever to have held a fortune, my insides

Bearslayer: Canto I - Bearslayer's destiny is revealed by Perkons (Scene 2) - Andrejs Pumpurs

Staburadze tells of a wonder

These vows the Council brought now to its close-

Their homeward paths the gods departing sought.

The Lusiad (extract from Book I: Sailing to Mombasa) - Luís Vas de Camões

Between the isle and Ethiopia's land

A narrow current laves each adverse strand;

Close by the margin where the green tide flows,

Full to the bay a lordly city rose;

A Poet Looks At The Moon - Chang Jo Hsu

I hear a woman singing in my garden,

But I look at the moon in spite of her.

Skirnismol (The Ballad of Skirnir) - Snorri Sturluson

Freyr, the son of Njorth, had sat one day in Hlithskjolf, and looked over all the worlds. He looked into Jotunheim, and saw there a fair maiden, as she went from her father's house to her bower. Forthwith he felt a mighty love-sickness. Skirnir was the name of Freyr's servant; Njorth bade him ask speech of Freyr. He said:

"Go now, Skirnir! and seek to gain

Speech from my son; 

And answer to win, for whom the wise one 

Is mightily moved."