Liber LXXXXII: Lesbia Railing - Catullus

Lesbia forever on me rails.
To talk of me, she never fails.
Now, hang me, but for all her art,
I find that I have gained her heart.

Past and Future - Sarojini Naidu

The new hath come and now the old retires:
And so the past becomes a mountain-cell,
Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell
In consecrated calm, forgotten yet
Of the keen heart that hastens to forget
Old longings in fulfilling new desires.

To be born a man - Adela Zamudio

She works so hard
to make up for the sloth
of her husband, and in the house
(Pardon my surprise.)
he's so inept and pompous,
that of course he's the boss
because he's a man!

Curtains! - Jón Thoroddsen

It's raining roses. The angels clap and shout. God Almighty bows and smiles.
A young, inexperienced angel cannot restrain himself. He flaps his wings and shouts: Long live God Almighty. He lives!
The heavens shake with congratulatory shouts, but God Almighty pauses, biting his lip. He is eternal. He smiles and bows.

Yesterday - Nora May French

Now all my thoughts were crisped and thinned
    To elfin threads, to gleaming browns.
Like tawny grasses lean with wind
    They drew your heart across the downs.
Your will of all the winds that blew
    They drew across the world to me
To thread my whimsey thoughts of you
    Along the downs, above the sea.

South - Kamau Brathwaite

But today I recapture the islands'
bright beaches:  blue mist from the ocean
rolling into the fishermen's houses.
By these shores I was born:  sound of the sea
came in at my window, life heaved and breathed in me then
with the strength of that turbulent soil.

Twilight - Joaquín Arcadio Pagaza

Slowly the sun descends at fall of night,
And rests on clouds of amber, rose and red;
The mist upon the distant mountains shed
Turns to a rain of gold and silver light.

No One Plants Fish in the Sea - Flávio de Araújo

Cast your net, fisherman.
To wrap blue silk around the woman
praying on the wharf.
To pay for the children's notebooks.
To keep the storeowner
from turning away.

Banquet at the Tso Family Manor - Du Fu

The windy forest is chequered
By the light of the setting,
Waning moon. I tune the lute,
Its strings are moist with dew.

Matins - Charles Van Gorkom

A sickle of moon is caught
in the branches of cottonwoods
along the ice choked river.