there were great upheavals
and minor occurrences
in his long
at times barely bearable
existence
but that shrug
he was so famously known for
carried him through
major and minor affairs
in this life as we know it
which in the end
rather abruptly
one spring morning
came to a halt
and he laid down
and passed on
to wherever it is
we go
Month: September 2023
Fernando Pessoa as himself: poem
What matters is love.
Sex is just an accident:
It can be the same
Or different.
Man isn’t an animal:
He’s an intelligent flesh,
Though subject to sickness.
translated by Richard Zenith
Fernando Pessoa writing as Ricardo Reis: untitled poem
No one loves anyone else; he loves
What he finds of himself in the other.
Don’t fret if others don’t love you. They feel
Who you are, and you’re a stranger.
Be who you are, even if never loved.
Secure in yourself, you will suffer
Few sorrows.
translated by Richard Zenith
Poe by Mina Loy
a lyric elixir of death
embalms
the spindle spirits of your hour glass loves
on moon spun nights
sets
icicled canopy
for corpses of poesy
with roses and northern lights
where frozen nightingales in ilex aisles
sing burial rites
Mirror Image by Louise Glück
Tonight I saw myself in the dark window as
the image of my father, whose life
was spent like this,
thinking of death, to the exclusion
of other sensual matters,
so in the end that life
was easy to give up, since
it contained nothing: even
my mother’s voice couldn’t make him
change or turn back
as he believed
that once you can’t love another human being
you have no place in the world.
untitled poem by Rabi’a the Mystic
Oh my Lord, if I worship you from fear of Hell
burn me in Hell.
If I worship you from hope of Paradise
exclude me from that place.
But if I worship you for your own sake,
do not withhold from me your eternal beauty.
translated by Willis Barnstone
Love by Oktay Rıfat
My God how lonely it was face to face
With that wild love in your breast
Wilder than a rapacious beast.
translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane
My Life Before Dawn by Louise Glück
Sometimes at night I think of how we did
It, me nailed in her like steel, her
Over-eager on the striped contour
Sheet (I later burned it) and it makes me glad
I told her—in the kitchen cutting homemade bread—
She always did too much—I told her Sorry baby you have had
Your share. (I found her stain had dried into my hair.)
She cried. Which still does not explain my nightmares:
How she surges like her yeast dough through the door-
way shrieking It is I, love, back in living color
After all these years.
Woman In White by Oktay Rıfat
Woman in white on the balcony
Core of the landscape
Heart of this limitless order
Under a blue sky
Woman in white on the balcony
A measure of colour and space
Drops from her shoulders
A crystal waterfall of time
translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane
To My Wife by Oktay Rıfat
You bring coolness to the halls
A sense of space to rooms
To wake in your bed in the morning
Gives me daylong joy
We are two halves of the apple
Our day and night
Our house and home are one
Happiness is a meadow
Where you tread
It springs to life
Loneliness comes from the road you go down
Translated by Ruth Christie & Richard McKane