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michael-r-burchPoems
Brief Fling by Michael R. Burch “Epigram” means cram, then scram! The Whole of Wit by Michael R. Burch for and after Richard Thomas Moore If brevity is the soul of wit then brevity and levity are the whole of it. (Published by Shot Glass Journal, Brief Poems, AZquotes, IdleHearts, JarOfQuotes, QuoteFancy, QuoteMaster) Feathered Fiends Conformists of a feather flock together. —Michael R. Burch (Winner of the National Poetry Month Couplet Competition) Nun Fun Undone by Michael R. Burch Abbesses' recesses are not for excesses! (Originally published by Brief Poems) Epitaph for a Palestinian Child by Michael R. Burch I lived as best I could, and then I died. Be careful where you step: the grave is wide. (Published by Romantics Quarterly, Daily Kos, Setu, Genocide Awareness and Darfur Awareness Shabbat; also translated into Czech, Indonesian, Romanian and Turkish) Childless by Michael R. Burch How can she bear her grief? Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight of one fallen star. Stormfront by Michael R. Burch Our distance is frightening: a distance like the abyss between heaven and earth interrupted by bizarre and terrible lightning. Are mayflies missed by mountains? Do stars applaud the glowworm’s stellar mimicry? —Michael R. Burch Let me bend the world to my will though it resist still. —Michael R. Burch Sinking by Michael R. Burch for Virginia Woolf Weigh me down with stones ...      fill all the pockets of my gown ...           I’m going down,                mad as the world                     that can’t recover,                          to where even mermaids drown ... Laughter's Cry by Michael R. Burch Because life is a mystery, we laugh and do not know the half. Because death is a mystery, we cry when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry. (Originally published by Angelwing) Autumn Conundrum by Michael R. Burch It's not that every leaf must finally fall, it's just that we can never catch them all. (Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea; also translated into Russian, Macedonian, Turkish and Romanian) Piercing the Shell by Michael R. Burch If we strip away all the accouterments of war, perhaps we'll discover what the heart is for. (Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea; also translated into Arabic, Turkish, Russian and Macedonian) *** Hex by Michael R. Burch Love's full of cute paradoxes (and highly acute poxes). (Published by ***** of Parnassus and Lighten Up Online) Styx by Michael R. Burch Black waters— deep and dark and still. All men have passed this way, or will. (Published by The Raintown Review and Blue Unicorn; also translated into Romanian and published by Petru Dimofte. This is one of my early poems, written as a teenager. I believe it was my first or second epigram.) Shattered by Vera Pavlova loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I shattered your heart; now I limp through the shards barefoot. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) God saw it was good. Adam saw it was impressive. Eve saw it was improvable. —Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Untitled Epigrams and Prose Epigrams A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy? —Albert Einstein, poetic interpretation by Michael R. Burch Truths are more likely discovered by one man than by nations. —Rene Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch Old age, believe me, is a blessing. While it’s true you get gently shouldered off the stage, you’re awarded such a comfortable front row seat as spectator. — Confucius, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The Golden Rule is much easier to recite than observe. — Michael R. Burch The Golden Rule is much easier to recite for others' benefit than to observe oneself. — Michael R. Burch Consider a Golden Mean when the Golden Rule is employed. Some people are much harder on themselves than on others. — Michael R. Burch The most dangerous words ever uttered by human lips are “thus saith the LORD.” — Michael R. Burch We may not be able to find the true God through logic, but we can certainly find false gods through illogic. — Michael R. Burch Justice may be blind, but does she have to be deaf too?—Michael R. Burch There is nothing at all supreme, nor anything remotely just, about Clarence Thomas.—Michael R. Burch Cassidy Hutchinson is not only credible, but her courage and poise under fire have been incredible. — Michael R. Burch Cassidy Hutchinson is a modern Erin Brockovich except that in her case the well has been poisoned for the whole country. — Michael R. Burch I will never grok picking a picky rule over a Poem! – Michael R. Burch Improve yourself by others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at great expense. — Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch Heaven and hell seem unreasonable to me: the actions of men do not deserve such extremes. —Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Reality is neither probable nor likely. —Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.—Michael R. Burch Neither the leaf nor the tree laments karma.—Michael R. Burch One man's coronation is another man's consternation.—Michael R. Burch The editors of Poetry know no more about poetry than I do about basket-weaving, except that I know a good basket when I have it in my hands.—Michael R. Burch Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise by Michael R. Burch I wanted to be good as gold, but being good, as I’ve been told, requires something, discipline, I simply have no interest in! Less Heroic Couplets: Gilded Silence by Michael R. Burch Golden silence reigned supreme in my nightmare and her dream. Christ! by Michael R. Burch If I knew men could be so dumb, I would never have come! Now you lie, cheat and steal in my name and make it a thing of shame. Did I heal the huge holes in your heart, in your head? Isn’t it obvious: I’m dead and unable to repeal what I never said? A Further Farewell to Dentistry by Michael R. Burch (for and after Richard Moore, from whom I absconded the title) Lately I've been eschewing ice chewing and my indentured dentist’s been boo-hoo-hooing. Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Multiplication, Tabled or Procreation Inflation by Michael R. Burch for the Religious Right "Be fruitful and multiply"— great advice, for a fruitfly! But for women and men, simple Simons, say, "WHEN! " (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Saving Graces, for the Religious Right by Michael R. Burch Life's saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter... wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter. (Published by Shot Glass Journal and Poem Today) A Passing Observation about Thinking Outside the Box by Michael R. Burch William Blake had no public, and yet he’s still read. His critics are dead. A man may attempt to burnish pure gold, but who can think to improve on his mother?—Mahatma Gandhi, translation by Michael R. Burch Less Heroic Couplets: ****** Most Fowl! by Michael R. Burch ****** most foul!” cried the mouse to the owl. “Friend, I’m no sinner; you’re merely my dinner. As you fall on my sword, take it up with the LORD!” the wise owl replied as the tasty snack died. (Published by Lighten Up Online and in Potcake Chapbook #7) Less Heroic Couplets: Marketing 101 by Michael R. Burch Building her brand, she disrobes, naked, except for her earlobes. Less Heroic Couplets: Mini-Ode to Stamina by Michael R. Burch When you’ve given so much that I can’t bear your touch, then from a safe distance let me admire your persistence. The Trouble with Elephants: a Word to the Wise by Michael R. Burch An elephant NEVER forgets, which is why they don’t make the best pets: Jumbo may well out-live you, but he’ll NEVER forgive you so you may as well save your regrets! The Beat Goes On (and On and On and On ...) by Michael R. Burch Bored stiff by his board-stiff attempts at “meter,” I crossly concluded I’d use each iamb in lieu of a lamb, bedtimes when I’m under-quaaluded. Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed by Michael R. Burch for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air Their volume's impressive, it's true... but somehow it all seems 'much ado.' Ars Brevis, Proofreading Longa by Michael R. Burch Poets may labor from sun to sun, but their editor's work is never done. The First Complete Musical Composition Shine, while you live; blaze beyond grief, for life is brief and Time, a thief. —Michael R. Burch, after Seikilos of Euterpes The so-called Seikilos Epitaph is the oldest known surviving complete musical composition which includes musical notation. It is believed to date to the first or second century AD. The epitaph appears to be signed “Seikilos of Euterpes” or dedicated “Seikilos to Euterpe.” Euterpe was the ancient Greek Muse of music. Cover Girl by Michael R. Burch Cunning at sunning and dunning, the stunning young woman’s in the running to be found exposed on the cover of some patronizing lover. In this case the cover is a bed cover, where the enterprising young mistress is about to be covered herself. First Base Freeze by Michael R. Burch I find your love unappealing (no, make that appalling) because you prefer kissing then stalling. Paradoxical Ode to Antinatalism by Michael R. Burch A stay on love would end death’s hateful sway, someday. A stay on love would thus BE love, I say. Be true to love and thus end death’s fell sway! Less Heroic Couplets: Crop Duster by Michael R. Burch We are dust and to dust we must return ... but why, then, life’s pointless sojourn? **** Brevis, Emendacio Longa by Michael R. Burch The Donald may tweet from sun to sun, but his spellchecker’s work is never done. a passing question for the Moral Majority by Michael R. Burch since GOD created u so gullible how did u conclude HE’s so lovable? Fierce ancient skalds summoned verse from their guts; today's genteel poets prefer modern ruts. —Michael R. Burch Not Elves, Exactly by Michael R. Burch Something there is that likes a wall, that likes it spiked and likes it tall, that likes its pikes' sharp rows of teeth and doesn't mind its victims' grief (wherever they come from, far or wide) as long as they fall on the other side. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Fahr an’ Ice by Michael R. Burch From what I know of death, I’ll side with those who’d like to have a say in how it goes: just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker), and real fahr off, instead of quicker. (Originally published by Light Quarterly) Dawn by Michael R. Burch for Beth and Laura Bring your particular strength to the strange nightmarish fray: wrap up your cherished ones in the golden light of day. Self-ish by Michael R. Burch Let's not pretend we "understand" other elves as long as we remain mysteries to ourselves. Imperfect Perfection by Michael R. Burch You’re too perfect for words— a problem for a poet. Expert Advice by Michael R. Burch Your ******* are perfect for your lithe, slender body. Please stop making false comparisons your hobby! Grave Oversight I by Michael R. Burch The dead are always with us, and yet they are naught! Grave Oversight II by Michael R. Burch for Jim Dunlap, who winked and suggested “not” The dead are either naught or naughty, being so sought! Midnight Stairclimber by Michael R. Burch Procreation is at first great sweaty recreation, then—long, long after the *** dies— the source of endless exercise. Accounting by Michael R. Burch And so I have loved you, and so I have lost, accrued disappointment, ledgered its cost, debited wisdom, credited pain . . . My assets remaining are liquid again. Why the Kid Gloves Came Off by Michael R. Burch for Lemuel Ibbotson It's hard to be a man of taste in such a waste: hence the lambaste. Housman was right ... by Michael R. Burch It’s true that life’s not much to lose, so why not hang out on a cloud? It’s just the bon voyage is hard and the objections loud. Biblical Knowledge or “Knowing Coming and Going” by Michael R. Burch The wisest man the world has ever seen had fourscore concubines and threescore queens? This gives us pause, and so we venture hence— he “knew” them, wisely, in the wider sense. Descent by Michael R. Burch I have listened to the rain all this morning and it has a certain gravity, as if it knows its destination, perhaps even its particular destiny. I do not believe mine is to be uplifted, although I, too, may be flung precipitously and from a great height. Reading between the lines by Michael R. Burch Who could have read so much, as we? Having the time, but not the inclination, TV has become our philosophy, sheer boredom, our recreation. Early Warning System A hairy thick troglodyte, Mary, squinched dingles excessively airy. To her family’s deep shame, their condo became the first cave to employ a canary! Untitled by Michael R. Burch I sampled honeysuckle and it made my taste buds buckle. Snap Shots by Michael R. Burch Our daughters must be celibate, die virgins. We triangulate their early paths to heaven (for the martyrs they’ll soon conjugate). We like to hook a little tail. We hope there’s decent *** in jail. Don’t fool with us; our bombs are smart! (We’ll send the plans, ASAP, e-mail.) The soul is all that matters; why hoard gold if it offends the eye? A pension plan? Don’t make us laugh! We have your plan for sainthood. (Die.) Eerie Dearie by Michael R. Burch A trembling young auditor, white as a sheet, like a ghost in the night, saw his dreams, his career in a **** disappear, and then, strangely Enronic, his wife. Gore-dom Boredom by Michael R. Burch There once was a candidate, Gore, whose campaign had become quite a bore. “He’s much too stiff,” sighed his publicist, “but not like his predecessor!” Translations Birdsong by Rumi loose translation by Michael R. Burch Birdsong relieves my deepest griefs: now I'm just as ecstatic as they, but with nothing to say! Please universe, rehearse your poetry through me! Raise your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder. —Rumi, translation by Michael R. Burch The imbecile constructs cages for everyone he knows, while the sage (who has to duck his head whenever the moon glows) keeps dispensing keys all night long to the beautiful, rowdy, prison gang. —Hafiz loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An unbending tree breaks easily. —Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Little sparks may ignite great Infernos.—Dante, translation by Michael R. Burch Love distills the eyes’ desires, love bewitches the heart with its grace.―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Once fanaticism has gangrened brains the incurable malady invariably remains. —Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Booksellers laud authors for novel editions as pimps praise their ****** for exotic positions. —Thomas Campion, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch No wind is favorable to the man who lacks direction. —Seneca the Younger, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My objective is not to side with the majority, but to avoid the ranks of the insane.—Marcus Aurelius, translation by Michael R. Burch To know what we do know, and to know what we don't, is true knowledge.—Confucius, sometimes incorrectly attributed to Nicolaus Copernicus, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Where our senses fail, reason must prevail. —Galileo Galilei, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Hypocrisy may deceive the most perceptive adult, but the dullest child recognizes and is revolted by it, however ingeniously disguised. —Leo Tolstoy translation by Michael R. Burch Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel, or a house when it's time to change residences, even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life. —Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation by Michael R. Burch Improve yourself through others' writings, attaining freely what they acquired at great expense.—Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch Fools call wisdom foolishness. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch One true friend is worth ten thousand kin. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Not to speak one’s mind is slavery. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch I would rather die standing than kneel, a slave. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Fresh tears are wasted on old griefs. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch To live without philosophizing is to close one's eyes and never attempt to open them. —René Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch We who left behind the Aegean’s bellowings Now sleep peacefully here on the mid-plains of Ecbatan: Farewell, dear Athens, nigh to Euboea, Farewell, dear sea! —Michael R. Burch, after Plato Native American Proverb loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Before you judge a man for his sins be sure to trudge many moons in his moccasins. Native American Proverb by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux (circa 1840-1877) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A man must pursue his Vision as the eagle explores the sky's deepest blues. Native American Proverb loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let us walk respectfully here among earth's creatures, great and small, remembering, our footsteps light, that one wise God created all. Farewell to Faith I by Michael R. Burch What we want is relief from life’s grief and despair: what we want’s not “belief” but just not to be there. Farewell to Faith II by Michael R. Burch Confronted by the awesome thought of death, to never suffer, and be free of grief, we wonder: "What’s the use of drawing breath? Why seek relief from the bible’s Thief, who ripped off Eve then offered her a leaf?" Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss by Michael R. Burch Domestic “bliss”? Best to swing and miss! Less Heroic Couplets: Then and Now by Michael R. Burch BEFORE: Thanks to Brexit, our lives will be plush! ... AFTER: Crap, we’re going broke! What the hell is the rush? Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader by Michael R. Burch Is our Dear Pleader, as he claims, heroic? I prefer my presidents a bit more stoic. Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed by Michael R. Burch for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air Their volume’s impressive, it’s true ... but somehow it all seems “much ado.” Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry I by Michael R. Burch Poetry is the heart’s caged rhythm, the soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality. Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry II by Michael R. Burch Poetry is the trapped soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality. Less Heroic Couplets: Seesaw by Michael R. Burch A poem is the mind teetering between fact and fiction, momentarily elevated. Less Heroic Couplets: Passions by Michael R. Burch Passions are the heart’s qualms, the soul’s squalls, the brain’s storms. I didn’t mean to love you, but I did. Best leave the rest unsaid, hid- den and unbidden. —Michael R. Burch You imagine life is good, but have you actually understood? —Michael R. Burch Living with a body ain’t much fun. Harder, still, to live without one. Whatever happened to our day in the sun? —Michael R. Burch How little remains of our joys and our pains. How little remains of our losses and gains. How little remains of whatever remains. —Michael R. Burch Sometimes I feel better, it’s true, but mostly I’m still not over you. —Michael R. Burch Don’t let the past defeat you. Learn from it, but don’t dwell. Have no regrets at “farewell.” —Michael R. Burch Haughty moon, when did I ever trouble you, insomnia’s co-conspirator! —Michael R. Burch Every day’s a new chance to lose weight, but most likely, I’ll ... procrastinate ... —Michael R. Burch Big Ben ***** by Michael R. Burch Early to bed, hurriedly to rise makes a man stealthy, and that’s why he’s wealthy: what the hell is he doing behind your closed eyes? Friend, how you’ll squirm when you belatedly learn that you’re the worm! Pecking Disorder by Michael R. Burch Love has a pecking order, or maybe a dis-order, a hell we recognize if we merely open our eyes: the attractive win at birth, while those of ample girth are deemed of little worth from Nottingham to Perth. Nottingham is said to have the most beautiful women in the world. Tease by Michael R. Burch It’s what you always say, okay? It’s what you always say: C’mon let’s play, roll in the hay, It’s what you always say. Ole! But little do you do, it’s true. But little do you do. A little ****** run to piddle ... we never really ***** That’s you! Observance (II) by Michael R. Burch fifty years later... The trees are in their autumn beauty, majestic to the eye. Whoever felt as I,                              whoever felt them doomed to die despite their flamboyant colors? They seem like knights of dismal countenance ... as if, windmills themselves, they might tilt with the ****** sky. And yet their favors gaily fly! KEYWORDS/TAGS: epigram, epigrams, love, life, living, fun, sun, joy, pain, past, sad, sadness Anyte Epigrams Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms; hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches; then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain; for this is welcome shade from the burning sun. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads by the windswept elms near the breezy beach, providing rest to sunburned travelers, and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage, and drink cool water from the sprightly spring, so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors, may take rest from the blazing sun. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is the grove of Cypris, for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep, that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy, as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nossis Epigrams There is nothing sweeter than love. All other delights are secondary. Thus, I spit out even honey. This is what Gnossis says: Whom Aphrodite does not love, Is bereft of her roses. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven, behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis, daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances, to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho, remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there. My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go! —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse, a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Excerpts from “Distaff” by Erinna loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch … the moon rising …       … leaves falling …            … waves lapping a windswept shore … … and our childish games, Baucis, do you remember? ... ... Leaping from white horses, running on reckless feet through the great courtyard.   “You’re it!’ I cried, ‘You’re the Tortoise now!” But when your turn came to pursue your pursuers, you darted beyond the courtyard, dashed out deep into the waves, splashing far beyond us … … My poor Baucis, these tears I now weep are your warm memorial, these traces of embers still smoldering in my heart for our silly amusements, now that you lie ash … … Do you remember how, as girls, we played at weddings with our dolls, pretending to be brides in our innocent beds? ... ... How sometimes I was your mother, allotting wool to the weaver-women, calling for you to unreel the thread? ... … Do you remember our terror of the monster Mormo with her huge ears, her forever-flapping tongue, her four slithering feet, her shape-shifting face? ... ... Until you mother called for us to help with the salted meat ... ... But when you mounted your husband’s bed, dearest Baucis, you forgot your mothers’ warnings! Aphrodite made your heart forgetful ... ... Desire becomes oblivion ... ... Now I lament your loss, my dearest friend. I can’t bear to think of that dark crypt. I can’t bring myself to leave the house. I refuse to profane your corpse with my tearless eyes. I refuse to cut my hair, but how can I mourn with my hair unbound? I blush with shame at the thought of you! … ... But in this dark house, O my dearest Baucis, My deep grief is ripping me apart. Wretched Erinna! Only nineteen, I moan like an ancient crone, eying this strange distaff ... O ***** . . . O Hymenaeus! . . . Alas, my poor Baucis! On a Betrothed Girl by Erinna loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I sing of Baucis the bride. Observing her tear-stained crypt say this to Death who dwells underground: "Thou art envious, O Death!" Her vivid monument tells passers-by of the bitter misfortune of Baucis — how her father-in-law burned the poor girl on a pyre lit by bright torches meant to light her marriage train home. While thou, O Hymenaeus, transformed her harmonious bridal song into a chorus of wailing dirges. ***** O Hymenaeus! Sophocles Epigrams Not to have been born is best, and blessed beyond the ability of words to express. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch It’s a hundred times better not be born; but if we cannot avoid the light, the path of least harm is swiftly to return to death’s eternal night! —Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oblivion: What a blessing, to lie untouched by pain! —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The happiest life is one empty of thought. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what is the use of hanging on day after day, edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Children anchor their mothers to life. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer! —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fortune never favors the faint-hearted. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Homer Epigrams For the gods have decreed that unfortunate mortals must suffer, while they themselves are sorrowless. —Homer, Iliad 24.525-526, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch “It is best not to be born or, having been born, to pass on as swiftly as possible.” —attributed to Homer (circa 800 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ancient Roman Epigrams Wall, I'm astonished that you haven't collapsed, since you're holding up verses so prolapsed! —Ancient Roman graffiti, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch There is nothing so pointless, so perfidious as human life! ... The ultimate bliss is not to be born; otherwise we should speedily slip back into the original Nothingness. —Seneca, On Consolation to Marcia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.—Michael R. Burch "Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") by **** Wei (699-759) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Uninhabited hills ... except that now and again the silence is broken by something like the sound of distant voices as the sun's sinking rays illuminate lichens ... **** Wei (699-759) was a Chinese poet, musician, painter, and politician during the Tang dynasty. He had 29 poems included in the 18th-century anthology Three Hundred Tang Poems. "Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") is one of his best-known poems. Keywords/Tags: epigram, epigrams, **** Wei, Chinese, translation, nature, animal, deer, park, hills, silence, sound, voices, wind, voice, sun, rays, illuminate, peace, growth, wisdom Keywords/Tags: elegy, eulogy, child, childhood, death, death of a friend, lament, lamentation, epitaph, grave, funeral, epigram, *** procreation, accounting, fire, ice, housman, bible, heaven, mrbepi, mrbepig, mrbepigram Published as the collection "Epigrams V"
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Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 4:12 AM UTC
Epigrams V
Brief Fling by Michael R. Burch “Epigram” means cram, then scram! The Whole of Wit by Michael R. Burch for and after Richard Thomas Moore If brevity is the soul of wit then brevity and levity are the whole of it. (Published by Shot Glass Journal, Brief Poems, AZquotes, IdleHearts, JarOfQuotes, QuoteFancy, QuoteMaster) Feathered Fiends Conformists of a feather flock together. —Michael R. Burch (Winner of the National Poetry Month Couplet Competition) Nun Fun Undone by Michael R. Burch Abbesses' recesses are not for excesses! (Originally published by Brief Poems) Epitaph for a Palestinian Child by Michael R. Burch I lived as best I could, and then I died. Be careful where you step: the grave is wide. (Published by Romantics Quarterly, Daily Kos, Setu, Genocide Awareness and Darfur Awareness Shabbat; also translated into Czech, Indonesian, Romanian and Turkish) Childless by Michael R. Burch How can she bear her grief? Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight of one fallen star. Stormfront by Michael R. Burch Our distance is frightening: a distance like the abyss between heaven and earth interrupted by bizarre and terrible lightning. Are mayflies missed by mountains? Do stars applaud the glowworm’s stellar mimicry? —Michael R. Burch Let me bend the world to my will though it resist still. —Michael R. Burch Sinking by Michael R. Burch for Virginia Woolf Weigh me down with stones ...      fill all the pockets of my gown ...           I’m going down,                mad as the world                     that can’t recover,                          to where even mermaids drown ... Laughter's Cry by Michael R. Burch Because life is a mystery, we laugh and do not know the half. Because death is a mystery, we cry when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry. (Originally published by Angelwing) Autumn Conundrum by Michael R. Burch It's not that every leaf must finally fall, it's just that we can never catch them all. (Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea; also translated into Russian, Macedonian, Turkish and Romanian) Piercing the Shell by Michael R. Burch If we strip away all the accouterments of war, perhaps we'll discover what the heart is for. (Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea; also translated into Arabic, Turkish, Russian and Macedonian) *** Hex by Michael R. Burch Love's full of cute paradoxes (and highly acute poxes). (Published by ***** of Parnassus and Lighten Up Online) Styx by Michael R. Burch Black waters— deep and dark and still. All men have passed this way, or will. (Published by The Raintown Review and Blue Unicorn; also translated into Romanian and published by Petru Dimofte. This is one of my early poems, written as a teenager. I believe it was my first or second epigram.) Shattered by Vera Pavlova loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I shattered your heart; now I limp through the shards barefoot. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) God saw it was good. Adam saw it was impressive. Eve saw it was improvable. —Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Untitled Epigrams and Prose Epigrams A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy? —Albert Einstein, poetic interpretation by Michael R. Burch Truths are more likely discovered by one man than by nations. —Rene Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch Old age, believe me, is a blessing. While it’s true you get gently shouldered off the stage, you’re awarded such a comfortable front row seat as spectator. — Confucius, loose translation by Michael R. Burch The Golden Rule is much easier to recite than observe. — Michael R. Burch The Golden Rule is much easier to recite for others' benefit than to observe oneself. — Michael R. Burch Consider a Golden Mean when the Golden Rule is employed. Some people are much harder on themselves than on others. — Michael R. Burch The most dangerous words ever uttered by human lips are “thus saith the LORD.” — Michael R. Burch We may not be able to find the true God through logic, but we can certainly find false gods through illogic. — Michael R. Burch Justice may be blind, but does she have to be deaf too?—Michael R. Burch There is nothing at all supreme, nor anything remotely just, about Clarence Thomas.—Michael R. Burch Cassidy Hutchinson is not only credible, but her courage and poise under fire have been incredible. — Michael R. Burch Cassidy Hutchinson is a modern Erin Brockovich except that in her case the well has been poisoned for the whole country. — Michael R. Burch I will never grok picking a picky rule over a Poem! – Michael R. Burch Improve yourself by others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at great expense. — Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch Heaven and hell seem unreasonable to me: the actions of men do not deserve such extremes. —Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Reality is neither probable nor likely. —Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.—Michael R. Burch Neither the leaf nor the tree laments karma.—Michael R. Burch One man's coronation is another man's consternation.—Michael R. Burch The editors of Poetry know no more about poetry than I do about basket-weaving, except that I know a good basket when I have it in my hands.—Michael R. Burch Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise by Michael R. Burch I wanted to be good as gold, but being good, as I’ve been told, requires something, discipline, I simply have no interest in! Less Heroic Couplets: Gilded Silence by Michael R. Burch Golden silence reigned supreme in my nightmare and her dream. Christ! by Michael R. Burch If I knew men could be so dumb, I would never have come! Now you lie, cheat and steal in my name and make it a thing of shame. Did I heal the huge holes in your heart, in your head? Isn’t it obvious: I’m dead and unable to repeal what I never said? A Further Farewell to Dentistry by Michael R. Burch (for and after Richard Moore, from whom I absconded the title) Lately I've been eschewing ice chewing and my indentured dentist’s been boo-hoo-hooing. Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Multiplication, Tabled or Procreation Inflation by Michael R. Burch for the Religious Right "Be fruitful and multiply"— great advice, for a fruitfly! But for women and men, simple Simons, say, "WHEN! " (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Saving Graces, for the Religious Right by Michael R. Burch Life's saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter... wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter. (Published by Shot Glass Journal and Poem Today) A Passing Observation about Thinking Outside the Box by Michael R. Burch William Blake had no public, and yet he’s still read. His critics are dead. A man may attempt to burnish pure gold, but who can think to improve on his mother?—Mahatma Gandhi, translation by Michael R. Burch Less Heroic Couplets: ****** Most Fowl! by Michael R. Burch ****** most foul!” cried the mouse to the owl. “Friend, I’m no sinner; you’re merely my dinner. As you fall on my sword, take it up with the LORD!” the wise owl replied as the tasty snack died. (Published by Lighten Up Online and in Potcake Chapbook #7) Less Heroic Couplets: Marketing 101 by Michael R. Burch Building her brand, she disrobes, naked, except for her earlobes. Less Heroic Couplets: Mini-Ode to Stamina by Michael R. Burch When you’ve given so much that I can’t bear your touch, then from a safe distance let me admire your persistence. The Trouble with Elephants: a Word to the Wise by Michael R. Burch An elephant NEVER forgets, which is why they don’t make the best pets: Jumbo may well out-live you, but he’ll NEVER forgive you so you may as well save your regrets! The Beat Goes On (and On and On and On ...) by Michael R. Burch Bored stiff by his board-stiff attempts at “meter,” I crossly concluded I’d use each iamb in lieu of a lamb, bedtimes when I’m under-quaaluded. Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed by Michael R. Burch for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air Their volume's impressive, it's true... but somehow it all seems 'much ado.' Ars Brevis, Proofreading Longa by Michael R. Burch Poets may labor from sun to sun, but their editor's work is never done. The First Complete Musical Composition Shine, while you live; blaze beyond grief, for life is brief and Time, a thief. —Michael R. Burch, after Seikilos of Euterpes The so-called Seikilos Epitaph is the oldest known surviving complete musical composition which includes musical notation. It is believed to date to the first or second century AD. The epitaph appears to be signed “Seikilos of Euterpes” or dedicated “Seikilos to Euterpe.” Euterpe was the ancient Greek Muse of music. Cover Girl by Michael R. Burch Cunning at sunning and dunning, the stunning young woman’s in the running to be found exposed on the cover of some patronizing lover. In this case the cover is a bed cover, where the enterprising young mistress is about to be covered herself. First Base Freeze by Michael R. Burch I find your love unappealing (no, make that appalling) because you prefer kissing then stalling. Paradoxical Ode to Antinatalism by Michael R. Burch A stay on love would end death’s hateful sway, someday. A stay on love would thus BE love, I say. Be true to love and thus end death’s fell sway! Less Heroic Couplets: Crop Duster by Michael R. Burch We are dust and to dust we must return ... but why, then, life’s pointless sojourn? **** Brevis, Emendacio Longa by Michael R. Burch The Donald may tweet from sun to sun, but his spellchecker’s work is never done. a passing question for the Moral Majority by Michael R. Burch since GOD created u so gullible how did u conclude HE’s so lovable? Fierce ancient skalds summoned verse from their guts; today's genteel poets prefer modern ruts. —Michael R. Burch Not Elves, Exactly by Michael R. Burch Something there is that likes a wall, that likes it spiked and likes it tall, that likes its pikes' sharp rows of teeth and doesn't mind its victims' grief (wherever they come from, far or wide) as long as they fall on the other side. (Originally published by The HyperTexts) Fahr an’ Ice by Michael R. Burch From what I know of death, I’ll side with those who’d like to have a say in how it goes: just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker), and real fahr off, instead of quicker. (Originally published by Light Quarterly) Dawn by Michael R. Burch for Beth and Laura Bring your particular strength to the strange nightmarish fray: wrap up your cherished ones in the golden light of day. Self-ish by Michael R. Burch Let's not pretend we "understand" other elves as long as we remain mysteries to ourselves. Imperfect Perfection by Michael R. Burch You’re too perfect for words— a problem for a poet. Expert Advice by Michael R. Burch Your ******* are perfect for your lithe, slender body. Please stop making false comparisons your hobby! Grave Oversight I by Michael R. Burch The dead are always with us, and yet they are naught! Grave Oversight II by Michael R. Burch for Jim Dunlap, who winked and suggested “not” The dead are either naught or naughty, being so sought! Midnight Stairclimber by Michael R. Burch Procreation is at first great sweaty recreation, then—long, long after the *** dies— the source of endless exercise. Accounting by Michael R. Burch And so I have loved you, and so I have lost, accrued disappointment, ledgered its cost, debited wisdom, credited pain . . . My assets remaining are liquid again. Why the Kid Gloves Came Off by Michael R. Burch for Lemuel Ibbotson It's hard to be a man of taste in such a waste: hence the lambaste. Housman was right ... by Michael R. Burch It’s true that life’s not much to lose, so why not hang out on a cloud? It’s just the bon voyage is hard and the objections loud. Biblical Knowledge or “Knowing Coming and Going” by Michael R. Burch The wisest man the world has ever seen had fourscore concubines and threescore queens? This gives us pause, and so we venture hence— he “knew” them, wisely, in the wider sense. Descent by Michael R. Burch I have listened to the rain all this morning and it has a certain gravity, as if it knows its destination, perhaps even its particular destiny. I do not believe mine is to be uplifted, although I, too, may be flung precipitously and from a great height. Reading between the lines by Michael R. Burch Who could have read so much, as we? Having the time, but not the inclination, TV has become our philosophy, sheer boredom, our recreation. Early Warning System A hairy thick troglodyte, Mary, squinched dingles excessively airy. To her family’s deep shame, their condo became the first cave to employ a canary! Untitled by Michael R. Burch I sampled honeysuckle and it made my taste buds buckle. Snap Shots by Michael R. Burch Our daughters must be celibate, die virgins. We triangulate their early paths to heaven (for the martyrs they’ll soon conjugate). We like to hook a little tail. We hope there’s decent *** in jail. Don’t fool with us; our bombs are smart! (We’ll send the plans, ASAP, e-mail.) The soul is all that matters; why hoard gold if it offends the eye? A pension plan? Don’t make us laugh! We have your plan for sainthood. (Die.) Eerie Dearie by Michael R. Burch A trembling young auditor, white as a sheet, like a ghost in the night, saw his dreams, his career in a **** disappear, and then, strangely Enronic, his wife. Gore-dom Boredom by Michael R. Burch There once was a candidate, Gore, whose campaign had become quite a bore. “He’s much too stiff,” sighed his publicist, “but not like his predecessor!” Translations Birdsong by Rumi loose translation by Michael R. Burch Birdsong relieves my deepest griefs: now I'm just as ecstatic as they, but with nothing to say! Please universe, rehearse your poetry through me! Raise your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder. —Rumi, translation by Michael R. Burch The imbecile constructs cages for everyone he knows, while the sage (who has to duck his head whenever the moon glows) keeps dispensing keys all night long to the beautiful, rowdy, prison gang. —Hafiz loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch An unbending tree breaks easily. —Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Little sparks may ignite great Infernos.—Dante, translation by Michael R. Burch Love distills the eyes’ desires, love bewitches the heart with its grace.―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Once fanaticism has gangrened brains the incurable malady invariably remains. —Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Booksellers laud authors for novel editions as pimps praise their ****** for exotic positions. —Thomas Campion, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch No wind is favorable to the man who lacks direction. —Seneca the Younger, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My objective is not to side with the majority, but to avoid the ranks of the insane.—Marcus Aurelius, translation by Michael R. Burch To know what we do know, and to know what we don't, is true knowledge.—Confucius, sometimes incorrectly attributed to Nicolaus Copernicus, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Where our senses fail, reason must prevail. —Galileo Galilei, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Hypocrisy may deceive the most perceptive adult, but the dullest child recognizes and is revolted by it, however ingeniously disguised. —Leo Tolstoy translation by Michael R. Burch Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel, or a house when it's time to change residences, even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life. —Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation by Michael R. Burch Improve yourself through others' writings, attaining freely what they acquired at great expense.—Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch Fools call wisdom foolishness. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch One true friend is worth ten thousand kin. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Not to speak one’s mind is slavery. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch I would rather die standing than kneel, a slave. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch Fresh tears are wasted on old griefs. ―Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch To live without philosophizing is to close one's eyes and never attempt to open them. —René Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch We who left behind the Aegean’s bellowings Now sleep peacefully here on the mid-plains of Ecbatan: Farewell, dear Athens, nigh to Euboea, Farewell, dear sea! —Michael R. Burch, after Plato Native American Proverb loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Before you judge a man for his sins be sure to trudge many moons in his moccasins. Native American Proverb by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux (circa 1840-1877) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A man must pursue his Vision as the eagle explores the sky's deepest blues. Native American Proverb loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Let us walk respectfully here among earth's creatures, great and small, remembering, our footsteps light, that one wise God created all. Farewell to Faith I by Michael R. Burch What we want is relief from life’s grief and despair: what we want’s not “belief” but just not to be there. Farewell to Faith II by Michael R. Burch Confronted by the awesome thought of death, to never suffer, and be free of grief, we wonder: "What’s the use of drawing breath? Why seek relief from the bible’s Thief, who ripped off Eve then offered her a leaf?" Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss by Michael R. Burch Domestic “bliss”? Best to swing and miss! Less Heroic Couplets: Then and Now by Michael R. Burch BEFORE: Thanks to Brexit, our lives will be plush! ... AFTER: Crap, we’re going broke! What the hell is the rush? Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader by Michael R. Burch Is our Dear Pleader, as he claims, heroic? I prefer my presidents a bit more stoic. Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed by Michael R. Burch for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air Their volume’s impressive, it’s true ... but somehow it all seems “much ado.” Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry I by Michael R. Burch Poetry is the heart’s caged rhythm, the soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality. Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry II by Michael R. Burch Poetry is the trapped soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality. Less Heroic Couplets: Seesaw by Michael R. Burch A poem is the mind teetering between fact and fiction, momentarily elevated. Less Heroic Couplets: Passions by Michael R. Burch Passions are the heart’s qualms, the soul’s squalls, the brain’s storms. I didn’t mean to love you, but I did. Best leave the rest unsaid, hid- den and unbidden. —Michael R. Burch You imagine life is good, but have you actually understood? —Michael R. Burch Living with a body ain’t much fun. Harder, still, to live without one. Whatever happened to our day in the sun? —Michael R. Burch How little remains of our joys and our pains. How little remains of our losses and gains. How little remains of whatever remains. —Michael R. Burch Sometimes I feel better, it’s true, but mostly I’m still not over you. —Michael R. Burch Don’t let the past defeat you. Learn from it, but don’t dwell. Have no regrets at “farewell.” —Michael R. Burch Haughty moon, when did I ever trouble you, insomnia’s co-conspirator! —Michael R. Burch Every day’s a new chance to lose weight, but most likely, I’ll ... procrastinate ... —Michael R. Burch Big Ben ***** by Michael R. Burch Early to bed, hurriedly to rise makes a man stealthy, and that’s why he’s wealthy: what the hell is he doing behind your closed eyes? Friend, how you’ll squirm when you belatedly learn that you’re the worm! Pecking Disorder by Michael R. Burch Love has a pecking order, or maybe a dis-order, a hell we recognize if we merely open our eyes: the attractive win at birth, while those of ample girth are deemed of little worth from Nottingham to Perth. Nottingham is said to have the most beautiful women in the world. Tease by Michael R. Burch It’s what you always say, okay? It’s what you always say: C’mon let’s play, roll in the hay, It’s what you always say. Ole! But little do you do, it’s true. But little do you do. A little ****** run to piddle ... we never really ***** That’s you! Observance (II) by Michael R. Burch fifty years later... The trees are in their autumn beauty, majestic to the eye. Whoever felt as I,                              whoever felt them doomed to die despite their flamboyant colors? They seem like knights of dismal countenance ... as if, windmills themselves, they might tilt with the ****** sky. And yet their favors gaily fly! KEYWORDS/TAGS: epigram, epigrams, love, life, living, fun, sun, joy, pain, past, sad, sadness Anyte Epigrams Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms; hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches; then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain; for this is welcome shade from the burning sun. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads by the windswept elms near the breezy beach, providing rest to sunburned travelers, and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage, and drink cool water from the sprightly spring, so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors, may take rest from the blazing sun. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is the grove of Cypris, for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep, that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy, as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image. —Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Nossis Epigrams There is nothing sweeter than love. All other delights are secondary. Thus, I spit out even honey. This is what Gnossis says: Whom Aphrodite does not love, Is bereft of her roses. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven, behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis, daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances, to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho, remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there. My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go! —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse, a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use. —Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Excerpts from “Distaff” by Erinna loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch … the moon rising …       … leaves falling …            … waves lapping a windswept shore … … and our childish games, Baucis, do you remember? ... ... Leaping from white horses, running on reckless feet through the great courtyard.   “You’re it!’ I cried, ‘You’re the Tortoise now!” But when your turn came to pursue your pursuers, you darted beyond the courtyard, dashed out deep into the waves, splashing far beyond us … … My poor Baucis, these tears I now weep are your warm memorial, these traces of embers still smoldering in my heart for our silly amusements, now that you lie ash … … Do you remember how, as girls, we played at weddings with our dolls, pretending to be brides in our innocent beds? ... ... How sometimes I was your mother, allotting wool to the weaver-women, calling for you to unreel the thread? ... … Do you remember our terror of the monster Mormo with her huge ears, her forever-flapping tongue, her four slithering feet, her shape-shifting face? ... ... Until you mother called for us to help with the salted meat ... ... But when you mounted your husband’s bed, dearest Baucis, you forgot your mothers’ warnings! Aphrodite made your heart forgetful ... ... Desire becomes oblivion ... ... Now I lament your loss, my dearest friend. I can’t bear to think of that dark crypt. I can’t bring myself to leave the house. I refuse to profane your corpse with my tearless eyes. I refuse to cut my hair, but how can I mourn with my hair unbound? I blush with shame at the thought of you! … ... But in this dark house, O my dearest Baucis, My deep grief is ripping me apart. Wretched Erinna! Only nineteen, I moan like an ancient crone, eying this strange distaff ... O ***** . . . O Hymenaeus! . . . Alas, my poor Baucis! On a Betrothed Girl by Erinna loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I sing of Baucis the bride. Observing her tear-stained crypt say this to Death who dwells underground: "Thou art envious, O Death!" Her vivid monument tells passers-by of the bitter misfortune of Baucis — how her father-in-law burned the poor girl on a pyre lit by bright torches meant to light her marriage train home. While thou, O Hymenaeus, transformed her harmonious bridal song into a chorus of wailing dirges. ***** O Hymenaeus! Sophocles Epigrams Not to have been born is best, and blessed beyond the ability of words to express. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch It’s a hundred times better not be born; but if we cannot avoid the light, the path of least harm is swiftly to return to death’s eternal night! —Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Oblivion: What a blessing, to lie untouched by pain! —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The happiest life is one empty of thought. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what is the use of hanging on day after day, edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Children anchor their mothers to life. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer! —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fortune never favors the faint-hearted. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor. —Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Homer Epigrams For the gods have decreed that unfortunate mortals must suffer, while they themselves are sorrowless. —Homer, Iliad 24.525-526, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch “It is best not to be born or, having been born, to pass on as swiftly as possible.” —attributed to Homer (circa 800 BC), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Ancient Roman Epigrams Wall, I'm astonished that you haven't collapsed, since you're holding up verses so prolapsed! —Ancient Roman graffiti, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch There is nothing so pointless, so perfidious as human life! ... The ultimate bliss is not to be born; otherwise we should speedily slip back into the original Nothingness. —Seneca, On Consolation to Marcia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.—Michael R. Burch "Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") by **** Wei (699-759) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Uninhabited hills ... except that now and again the silence is broken by something like the sound of distant voices as the sun's sinking rays illuminate lichens ... **** Wei (699-759) was a Chinese poet, musician, painter, and politician during the Tang dynasty. He had 29 poems included in the 18th-century anthology Three Hundred Tang Poems. "Lu Zhai" ("Deer Park") is one of his best-known poems. Keywords/Tags: epigram, epigrams, **** Wei, Chinese, translation, nature, animal, deer, park, hills, silence, sound, voices, wind, voice, sun, rays, illuminate, peace, growth, wisdom Keywords/Tags: elegy, eulogy, child, childhood, death, death of a friend, lament, lamentation, epitaph, grave, funeral, epigram, *** procreation, accounting, fire, ice, housman, bible, heaven, mrbepi, mrbepig, mrbepigram Published as the collection "Epigrams V"
#epigram#procreation#accounting#fire#ice#life#death#bible#heaven
Written by
michael-r-burch
62/M/Nashville, Tennessee
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 4:12 AM UTC
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