The right path
–Jacques Prévert
At each mile
each year
old men with closed faces
point out the road to children
with gestures of reinforced concrete.
Original
Le droit chemin
À chaque kilomètre
chaque année
des vieillards au front borné
indiquent aux enfants la route
d’un geste de ciment armé
The First Madrigal
–Anna Swir
That night of love was pure
as an antique musical instrument
and the air around it.Rich
as a ceremony of coronation.
It was fleshy as the belly of a woman in labor
and spiritual
as a number.It was only a moment of life
and it wanted to be a conclusion drawn from life.
By dying
it wanted to comprehend the principle of the world.That night of love
had ambitions.
The Second Madrigal
-Anna Swir
A night of love
exquisite as a
concert from old Venice
played on exquisite instruments.
Healthy as a
buttock of a little angel.
Wise as an
anthill.
Garish as air
blown into a trumpet.
Abundant as the reign
of a royal Negro couple
seated on two thrones
cast in gold.A night of love with you,
a big baroque battle
and two victories.
Thank You, My Fate
-Anna Swir
Great humility fills me,
great purity fills me,
I make love with my dear
as if I made love dying
as if I made love praying,
tears pour
over my arms and his arms.
I don’t know whether this is joy
or sadness, I don’t understand
what I feel, I’m crying,
I’m crying, it’s humility
as if I were dead,
gratitude, I thank you, my fate,
I’m unworthy, how beautiful
my life.
Like the twist of a knife, the shaft penetrates – first a naked man wandering freely through city streets, covered in feathers and erect. Then suddenly, the twist – a different man, a broken disaster of a man, “quarrelsome and desperate”. These who populate.
About the Knife
–Novica Tadić
Untitled
–Claude de Burine
An unshaded avenue
will from now on be my life
where once I spoke love
the way a sheet is spread in the sun
with my absent voyagers
more living than the living
milestones along the way
towards an unknown world
minus passport or time
where words hoist black flags
Original
Une allée san ombre
sera maintenant ma vie
où je disais amour
comme un étend un drap au soleil
avec mes absents voyageurs
plus vivants que les vivants
bornes sur le chemin
vers un monde inconnu
sans passeport ni temps
où les mots hissent le drapeau noir.
Extenuating Circumstances
–Antjie Krog
This
–Aila MeriluotoUnder my hand
the sea of breathing swells.
A warm, restful land.
Deep winds the blood
and high: the ramifying veins
are filled with the huge wind’s sigh.
I listen, I admit: it is.I don’t speak about this.
Straitjacket
–Novica Tadić
A straitjacket
is being woven
and cut to measure
on you.
Photo (c) 2015 sharpals used under Creative Commons license.
