To love another truly
be that person wedge or hollow
a fine rider or a cloistered house (a womb)
is to keep that beloved’s other face
clasped in your hands
translated by Helen R. Lane
Author: zdunno03
oh to be there
her hand held high
the proverbial V sign
the dress discreetly
just above the knee
the shoulder bare
her face tan
from days out hatless
under the sun
and that smile
lighting up the hills
surrounding her
and my heart
yearns hopelessly
oh to be there
beside her
San Onofre, California by Carolyn Forche
We have come far south.
Beyond here, the oldest women
shelling limas into black shawls.
Portillo scratching his name
on the walls, the slender ribbons
of piss, children patting the mud.
If we go on, we might stop
in the street in the very place
where someone disappeared
and the words Come with us! we might
hear them. If that happened, we would
lead our lives with our hands
tied together. That is why we feel
it is enough to listen
to the wind jostling lemons,
to dogs ticking across the terraces,
knowing that while birds and warmer weather
are forever moving north,
the cries of those who vanish
might take years to get here.
A Love Song by Else Lasker-Schüler
Come to me in the night—we shall sleep closely together.
I am so tired, lonely from being awake.
A strange bird already sang in the dark early morning,
As my dream still wrestled with itself and me.
Flowers open before all the springs
Taking on the color of your eyes. . .
Come to me in the night on seven-starred shoes
And love shall be wrapped up until late in my tent.
Moons rise from the dusty trunk of heaven.
We shall make love quietly like two rare animals
In the high reeds behind this world.
translated by Michael Gillespie
End of the World by Else Lasker-Schüler
There is a crying in the world,
As if the good Lord had died,
And the lead shadow, which falls down,
Suffers gravely.
Come, let us hide nearer each other. . .
Life lies in every heart
As in coffins.
You! let us kiss deeply—
A longing throb against the planet
On which we must die.
translated by Willis Barnstone & Michael Gillespie
poem by Frau Ava
I am yours,
you are mine.
Of this we are certain.
You are lodged
in my heart,
the small key
is lost.
You must stay there
forever.
translated by Willis Barnstone
from Clear Bright by Li Ch’ing-chao
My friend, while you’re alive
And have wine, use it to get drunk.
There’ll be no second helpings
When you get to the Nine Springs.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
from a line by Yü Hsüan-chi: blow strong wind
blow strong wind
through the streets
of this ancient city
blow the dust
from these old eyes
so that they may see
five thousand miles
across seas an ocean
there where my home
used to be
Dusk by Gabriela Mistral
I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles:
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.
translated by David Garrison
Staying in the Mountains in Summer by Yü Hsüan-chi
I’ve moved here to the Immortal’s place:
Flowers everywhere we didn’t plant before.
The courtyard trees are bent like clothes-horses.
At the feast, winecups float in a new spring.
Dark balcony. Path through deep bamboo.
Long summer dress. Confusion of books.
I sing in the moonlight and ride a painted boat,
Trusting the wind to blow me home again.
translated by Geoffrey Waters
Leonard Durso 