The storm of the years
has whitened your head,
dear bright-eyed mother
who lives and breathes for me.
Tuesday, 30 April 2019
Monday, 29 April 2019
Being a Sri Lankan - Saduni Wanniarachchi
Mothers’ hips are eroded
And her clavicles stick out.
She has had too many children
But she is still pregnant.
Her lungs are punctured
And Shred into pieces
Of ripe cloudless flesh
Only to be hidden beneath
Layers of charred rubber.
And her clavicles stick out.
She has had too many children
But she is still pregnant.
Her lungs are punctured
And Shred into pieces
Of ripe cloudless flesh
Only to be hidden beneath
Layers of charred rubber.
Sunday, 28 April 2019
Only a bird - Śrî Ānanda Āchārya
I am not God nor His messenger—
I am only a singing bird.
I am only a singing bird.
Saturday, 27 April 2019
Black Children - Rex Ingamells
Where now uninterrupted sun
Is shrivelling the sheaves,
Is shrivelling the sheaves,
Friday, 26 April 2019
I am - Grigore Vieru
I am the apple tree that rises
With shiny fruit toward the stars,
While down below a leper scratches
Against its trunk his ugly scars.
With shiny fruit toward the stars,
While down below a leper scratches
Against its trunk his ugly scars.
Thursday, 25 April 2019
Word Nine - Abay Kunanbayev
When dying,
I will not lament:
I will not lament:
Wednesday, 24 April 2019
Invocation - Mirjam Tuominen
Beyond the seven mountains
the seven valleys
the seven rapid torrents
the seventy-seven nights
the seventy-seven days
the seven hundred-and-seventy-seven days-and-nights
the seven thousand and seventy-seven paradise years
inferno years purgatory years
shut up in the mountain
beyond the valleys
beyond the rapids
beyond the nights the days
the days-and-nights
the paradise years
inferno years purgatory years
inside shut in
outside shut out
I cry: ‘Awake!
the seven valleys
the seven rapid torrents
the seventy-seven nights
the seventy-seven days
the seven hundred-and-seventy-seven days-and-nights
the seven thousand and seventy-seven paradise years
inferno years purgatory years
shut up in the mountain
beyond the valleys
beyond the rapids
beyond the nights the days
the days-and-nights
the paradise years
inferno years purgatory years
inside shut in
outside shut out
I cry: ‘Awake!
Tuesday, 23 April 2019
St. George And The Dragon - Anonymous
Of Hector's deeds did Homer fing,
And of the sack of ftately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was fir Paris' only joy:
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds, and Englifh knight.
And of the sack of ftately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was fir Paris' only joy:
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds, and Englifh knight.
Monday, 22 April 2019
The beasts are very wise - Rudyard Kipling
The beasts are very wise,
Their mouths are clean of lies;
Their mouths are clean of lies;
Sunday, 21 April 2019
Done is a Battle - William Dunbar
Done is a battle on the dragon black,
Our champion Christ confoundit has his force;
The yetis of hell are broken with a crack,
The sign triumphal raisit is of the cross,
The devillis trymmillis with hiddous voce,
The saulis are borrowit and to the bliss can go,
Christ with his bloud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.
Our champion Christ confoundit has his force;
The yetis of hell are broken with a crack,
The sign triumphal raisit is of the cross,
The devillis trymmillis with hiddous voce,
The saulis are borrowit and to the bliss can go,
Christ with his bloud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.
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