They say great men are forged in flames
so give me fire
give me a raging inferno
give me anything but these
tantalising embers
and smoking coals.
I want to burn.
I want to burn.

I've been sick for almost a week .
Everything around me seem so inverted .

This bed and my body started to stink of rotten flesh .
And thoughts disappointments made me more miserable .

YES ! I am disappointed
And this disappointment is like a illness
This time it sits inside me .
I didn't get it by my expectations .
I had buried them long ago .

Why did you tainted that beautiful
Fragrance we had .
You've failed in every area to keep my emotions treasured .

At the end ,it is what it is .
And I am getting my pockets full of disappointments without even expecting .

Just because we smile together ,  doesn't mean I am happy .
Everytime i try to get closer ,
Feel that feeling of pisthurism ...
Do you know what I smell ?
Burning faith .

As his passion for her was burning him to ashes, his soul danced with joy!

Hussein Dekmak

Autumn light spills over the land, the golden sunshine barely peeking over the snow-topped mountains.
A soft breeze sweeps under the orange leaves, urging them into flight as they then drift swiftly into the distance.
A warm hue shines on the blades of grass, reflecting a clear image onto the still, glass pond.
Trees sway hesitantly, casting crooked shadows on the weaving path.
As the last traces of the day dissipate, the planet slipping into a restless slumber, a cool silver mist filters out any last color.
A blurry world stares back at me, chilling wind grabbing hold of my ankles like ice-cold fingers against my bones.
Threatening to pull me down, force clean air into my lungs, pressing on my chest until I have no choice but to inhale, breathing in the crisp fog with sputtering coughs.
Shivers prickle my skin, dancing up my spine and down my arms.
My vision shakes as tears well up in my eyes.
I let my gaze fall one last time on everything around me, taking in the beauty of nature before the light will vanish completely.
A dark world is gut-wrenching when all the lovely things that make Earth precious are clouded by shades of black.
Why open your eyes at night when it will be just the same as what you see when you close them.

The scene fades out of view as I’m forced out of my fond memories at the sound of crying.
The red leaves on the trees, covering the grass, and even swirling in the air shift suddenly into blinding flames, swallowing any lush vision from before.
The evening mist transforms into smoke, sirens and screams wailing in my ears, ricocheting in my mind.
Any calm feeling that had come from my daze snaps out of existence, so quickly it is almost as if it was never even there, as I turn to see the real world burning and falling apart around me.

i like to reminisce on fires that never truly took place
yet i still smell the scent of smoke on my clothes
maybe it was from the things my mother burned outside
or from my father's cigarettes
and it had clung to me
i felt its claws dig through the weavings
and through the layers of my skin
but i did not notice it
until i had realised every word i spoke
turned black before my eyes.

It was my birthday, the year
   of a curse I never asked for..

         ****** from the temple
of solitude.

Now I just breath
                      dissatisfaction,
that every 365 days I'm meant
                to celebrate the
incarceration of life..

Its overrated..

Blowing out memories,
       smouldering resentment
Inhaled when I've lived another
                   moment to the finish line..

Why is it taking so long..

Happy Birthday Day to me,
          I'm another year older
                       of my lame existence ...

I'm the candle burning out,
my breath smouldering as I
                   hold my chest..

Oh' well least I don't have to wait
another year..

My only regret...
                          I didn't get a slice of cake..

Die Bücherverbrennung ("The Burning of the Books")
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When the Regime
commanded the unlawful books to be burned,
teams of dull oxen hauled huge cartloads to the bonfires.

Then a banished writer, one of the best,
scanning the list of excommunicated texts,
became enraged: he’d been excluded!

He rushed to his desk, full of contemptuous wrath,
to write fiery letters to the incompetents in power —
Burn me! he wrote with his blazing pen —
Haven’t I always reported the truth?
Now here you are, treating me like a liar!
Burn me!

German text:

Die Bücherverbrennung

Als das Regime befahl, Bücher mit schädlichem Wissen
Öffentlich zu verbrennen, und allenthalben
Ochsen gezwungen wurden, Karren mit Büchern
Zu den Scheiterhaufen zu ziehen, entdeckte
Ein verjagter Dichter, einer der besten, die Liste der
Verbrannten studierend, entsetzt, daß seine
Bücher vergessen waren. Er eilte zum Schreibtisch
Zornbeflügelt, und schrieb einen Brief an die Machthaber.
Verbrennt mich! schrieb er mit fliegender Feder, verbrennt mich!
Tut mir das nicht an! Laßt mich nicht übrig! Habe ich nicht
Immer die Wahrheit berichtet in meinen Büchern? Und jetzt
Werd ich von euch wie ein Lügner behandelt! Ich befehle euch:
Verbrennt mich!

Published by Poetry Super Highway, The Hindu, The Tory, Chicago Sun-Times (excerpt), Poemist, Poetry on Demand and Convivium

Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, burning, books, banned, harmful, unlawful, ****, regime, fires, bonfires, oxen, carts, cartloads, Adolph ******, writer, writers, excommunicated, exiled, burn, truth, pen, blazing, fiery, liar

Bertolt Brecht Epigrams and Quotations

These are my modern English translations of epigrams and quotations by Bertolt Brecht.

Everyone chases the way happiness feels,
unaware how it nips at their heels.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world of learning takes a crazy turn
when teachers are taught to discern!
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unhappy, the land that lacks heroes.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hungry man, reach for the book:
it's a hook,
a harpoon.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Because things are the way they are,
things can never stay as they were.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

War is like love; true ...
it finds a way through.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What happens to the hole
when the cheese is no longer whole?
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is easier to rob by setting up a bank
than by threatening the poor clerk.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not fear death so much, or strife,
but rather fear the inadequate life.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, translation, translations, German,  modern English, epigram, epigrams, quote, quotes, quotations