buried here
in old regrets
the words
oh the words
never said
Month: August 2016
from Dreaming of Li Po, Two Poems by Tu Fu: Poem 2
Drifting clouds pass by all day long;
The wanderer is long in getting here.
Three nights now you’ve entered my dreams–
Which shows how good a friend you are.
But your leave-takings are hurried,
Bitterly you say, it’s not easy to come;
The river’s waters are wind-blown and choppy,
And you’re afraid to lose your oars.
Outside the door, you scratch your white head,
As if a lifetime’s ambition were forfeit.
Officials teem in the capital city,
Yet you alone are wretched.
Who says the net is wide,
When it tangles such a man in his old age?
An imperishable fame of a thousand years
Is but a paltry, after-life affair.
translated by Eugene Eoyang
from Dreaming of Li Po, Two Poems by Tu Fu: Poem 1
Parted by death, we swallow remorse;
Apart in life, we always suffer.
South of the river, miasmal place,
From the banished exile, not a word!
Old friend, you appeared in a dream,
It shows you have been long in my thoughts.
Perhaps it wasn’t your living soul:
The way’s too far, it couldn’t be done.
Your spirit came: and the maples were green:
Your spirit left: the mountain pass darkened.
Friend, now that you’re ensnared down there,
How did you manage to wing away?
Moonlight shines full on the rafters,
Yet I wonder if it isn’t your reflection.
The waters are deep, the waves expansive:
Don’t let the water-dragon get you!
translated by Eugene Eoyang
these dreams
they just won’t stop
I wake up exhausted
at all hours
when sleep should be a priority
but these dreams don’t listen
causing associations
dreaming creates
in these movies
in my head
people come go
time shifts now then
and you a star
in my sleep
in my brain
as I play a supporting part
to you in dreams
I wish would be
reality
Dream by Orhan Veli Kanik
My mother died
In a dream
Last night
And my waking up
Crying
Reminded me
Of my crying when
One holiday morning
My balloon slipped through my fingers
And I watched it
Rise
Into the sky.
translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat
Dreams by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Written By Chance by Li Ch’ing-chao
Fifteen years ago, beneath moonlight and flowers,
I walked with you
We composed flower-viewing poems together.
Tonight the moonlight and flowers are just the same
But how can I ever hold in my arms the same love.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
A Beirut Story by Orhan Kemal
In Beirut
At “New Istanbul Restaurant”
Washing the dishes
I am eighteen years old,
My hair is combed and shiny,
White Eleni who works at the lithography,
On my mind.
Eleni,
What if she sees me washing the dishes?
Thinking;
“Should I run away?”
To Eleni for instance,
“Let’s run away together!”
I would tell her,
And hold her arm,
Drag her with me;
From the Beirut Port,
We would get on the ferry
With three chimneys.
But,
In the evening,
My father, holding his beating heart
With his round fingers:
-My God! Where is he?
He would say.
While waiting in front of the Jewish owner’s shop
My mother would remember in panic:
“Hasan, the son of the herbalist,
had left one morning like this,
and did not return to his home, either!”
Days would pass.
Every evening,
With two loaves of bread and with his loving eyes,
Their son would not appear
In front of their knitted fabric door,
In the ruined walls of their garden.
What a tough thing to be in love.
What you plan at home,
Does not go with
The market!
Eleni is beautiful,
Roads are flawless,
The ferry is huge,
But,
They are waiting for loaves of bread in the evening!
Translated by Nejla Karabulut
the gift
unwrap it gently
the ribbon the bow
paper carefully selected
the color gold
remove the cover
there in the box
his heart
worn with age
beating still
in her hands
heritage
there
inside me
choking
for air
you are
