Venice masks

Friday, 10 October 2014

In praise of Shiva - Manikkavacakar

I wear a cassia garland
and cling to Shiva's round shoulders,

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Alice Sick - Jean de La Fontaine

Sick, has Alice grown, and fearing dire event,
Some friend advised a servant should be sent
Her confessor to bring and ease her mind;—
Yes, she replied, to see him I'm inclined;
Let father Andrew instantly be sought:—
By him salvation usually I'm taught.

Wednesday, 8 October 2014

In the Mediterranean - Georges Moustaki

In this basin where
children with black eyes play
there are three continents
and centuries of history,
prophets of the gods,
the Messiah in person.
There is a fair summer there
that fears no autumn,
in the Mediterranean.

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

On Miss Wilhelmina Alexander - Robert Burns

’Twas even—the dewy fields were green,
 On every blade the pearls hang;
The zephyr wanton’d round the bean,
 And bore its fragrant sweets alang:
 In ev’ry glen the mavis sang,
All nature list’ning seem’d the while,
 Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o’ Ballochmyle.

Monday, 6 October 2014

There Is No Age - Eva Gore-Booth

There is no age, this darkness and decay
Is by a radiant spirit cast aside,
Young with the ageless youth that yesterday
Bent to the yoke of flesh immortal pride.

Sunday, 5 October 2014

We plough the fields and scatter - Matthias Claudius

We plough the fields and scatter
the good seed on the land,
but it is fed and watered
by God's almighty hand;
he sends the snow in winter,
the warmth to swell the grain,
the breezes and the sunshine,
and soft refreshing rain.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Blue Earth - Judita Vaičiūnaitė

To dig each day in the blue earth—
               to mine amber

Friday, 3 October 2014

The Mu'allaqat - Baha ad-Din Zuhayr

"Does the blackened ruin, situated in the stony ground
between Durraj and Mutathallam, which did not speak to me,
when addressed, belong to the abode of Ummi Awfa?

Thursday, 2 October 2014

The Shining Hours (II) - Emile Verhaeren

Although we saw this bright garden, wherein we
pass silently, flower before our eyes, it is
rather in us that grows the pleasantest and
fairest garden in the world.

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

The man on the bus - Jill Jones

He lets out a cat moan
in tune with something
in his head, or closer to his blood.