I remember long ago when you and I were boys;
each year we dropped our books and raced to the fair.
Peddlers outdid each other hawking goods;
peasants stood gaping, ripe to be cheated–
when your poem came it brought back those times again.
I grieve less for home than for the years that are lost.
translated by Burton Watson
I wonder
If it’s only poets
Who stare at broken cobbles
And dream of gleaming asphalt?
translated by George Messo
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
An artistic endeavour comes into the world naked, unnamed, and vulnerable. Every creative effort requires the artist to wrest something from nothingness, a purposive cosmos from an apparently indifferent chaos.
Peter London, musician
Nothing is as it used to be,
Neither am I.
I don’t care about myself for a long time,
Nor my appearance.
I walk barefoot now.
Neither flu nor cold scares me as they used to.
I have bigger problems, like everyone else, which mint and lemon are no good for.
I don’t mind the swollen tonsils relapsing every winter and spring,
I don’t eat or drink too hot or too cold, they all go by in a few days anyway.
Things go on.
Things go by.
Yet there are things that I swallow despite the pain they inflict.
Things which do not go on
Things which do not go by
I have trouble sleeping at times, but,
I don’t care about this sleeping thing anymore,
Since I’ve realized, there are things which do not disappear with sleeping anymore.
translated by Burak Tıraş
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
You can sway a thousand men by appealing to their prejudices quicker than you can convince one man by logic.
When I think of you
A pebble warms in me
A bird settles on the edge of my heart
A poppy flourishes suddenly
A poppy bleeds insidiously
When I think of you
A plum tree dresses up from top to bottom
Starts to spin hysterically
As it spins, it dissolves bit by bit
As it dissolves, it dwindles
Becomes a deep blue plum in my mouth
Its seed has just sprouted
My lips burn when I touch
When I think of you
A pebble warms in me
translated by Burak Tıraş
the light
in her eyes
brings memories
of uncluttered blue skies
flying high
with blossoming dreams
of joy
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
Readiness to answer all questions is the infallible sign of stupidity.
In what dynasty, under what emperor,
did we live without war?
And in every war
every man dreamed of peace.
And now the farmer
finds more bones than soil.
And here comes the draft board,
wanting more bodies.
translated by Sam Hamill
Spring breezes erase the flowers,
leaving me in a state of yin.
This quiet downhill road leads by
a half-hidden bower where I’ll make my bed.
Straw sandals, a walking stick–
I wander the world alone,
only a few northern birds pass by
like the memory of a beautiful song.
translated by Sam Hamill
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 