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C'è il sole
Tuona, piove
È autunno
Dal risveglio al sonno.
Le foglie sono secche e passive
E i fiori morti e inattivi
Più tardi, nevica
I vicini della locanda
Vedono passare il cervo
Tutto il santo giorno
E tutta la sera
Sentiamo che i nervi stanno cambiando
Per dare il benvenuto alla nuova stagione
Dove siamo lontani dal raccolto.

Puoi sentire da molto lontano
Il vento che ronza nel fieno
Le vibrazioni non sono monotone
Poiché i colibrì delle colline
Fanno sentire la loro spettacolare presenza
E i poeti con giardini immaginari
Descrivono tutto ciò che accade
Nella terra dove le masse
Restano insensibili e ignoranti
E dove i funzionari eletti corrotti si vantano.
C'è il sole
Tuona, piove
È autunno
Dal risveglio al sonno.

P.S. Traduzione di “The Ancient Canticles Of Autumn”.
Questa poesia è dedicata ai miei amici e fan italiani.

Copyright © Novembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tutti i diritti riservati
Hébert Logerie è autore di numerosi libri di poesia.
This poem, ' Les Cantiques Antiques De L'Automne', was originally written in French by the Poet Hebert Logerie.
Está soleado
Está lloviendo, está tronando
Es otoño
Desde despertar hasta dormir.
Las hojas son secas y pasivas
Y las flores muertas e inactivas
Más tarde, es nieve
Los vecinos de la posada
Ven el paso de los ciervos
Todo el día
Y durante toda la larga noche
Sentimos que los nervios cambian
Para dar la bienvenida a la nueva temporada
Donde estamos lejos de la cosecha.

Podemos escuchar desde muy lejos
El viento que zumba en el heno
Las vibraciones no son monótonas
Desde los colibríes de los cerros
Hacen sentir su espectacular presencia
Y los poetas con jardines imaginarios
Describen todo lo que está pasando
En la tierra donde la masa
Sigue siendo insensible e ignorante
Y donde los funcionarios electos corruptos se jactan.
Está soleado
Está lloviendo, está tronando
Es otoño
Desde despertar hasta dormir.

P.D. Traducción de 'The Ancient Canticles Of Autumn'.

Copyright © noviembre de 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados
Hébert Logerie es autor de varios libros de poesía.
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.
Les feuilles sont sèches et passives
Et les fleurs mortes et inactives
Plus ****, c’est la neige
Les voisins de l’auberge
Voient passer les cerfs
Toute la sainte journée
Et pendant toute la soirée
On sent changer les nerfs
Pour accueillir la nouvelle saison
Où l’on est **** de la moisson.

On peut entendre de très ****
Le vent qui fredonne dans les foins
Les vibrations ne sont pas monotones
Puisque les colibris des mornes
Font sentir leur présence spectaculaire
Et les poètes aux jardins imaginaires
Décrivent tout ce qui se passe
Dans la contrée où la masse
Demeure insensible et ignorante
Et où les élus corrompus se vantent.
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.

P.S. Traduction de ‘ The Ancient Canticles Of Autumn’.

Copyright © Novembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs livres de poésie.
It is sunny
It is raining, it is thundering
It is autumn
From waking up to sleeping.
The leaves are dry and passive
And the flowers are dead and inactive
Later, it is snowing
The neighbors of the inn
See the deer pass by
All the holy day long
And during the whole evening
We feel the change of the nerves
To welcome the new season
Where we are far from the harvest.

We can hear from very far away
The wind humming in the hay
The vibrations are not monotonous
Since the hummingbirds of the hills
Make their spectacular presence felt
And the poets in the imaginary gardens
Describe everything that happens
In the country where the mass
Remains insensitive, benighted and glaikit
And where the elected corruptors boast.
It is sunny
It is raining, it is thundering
It is autumn
From waking up to sleeping.

P.S. Translation Of ‘Les Cantiques Antiques De L’Automne’.

Copyright © November 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Dom Nov 15
her kisses
are hot cocoa, sweet on my lips.
her arms
a fireplace, holding warmth between us.
her eyes
are christmas lights, glowing in the cold.
her love
is winter dust, a most beautiful thing to hold.
i've always found winter to be such a romantic time. i'm a sucker for a cheesy hallmark kinda love
The sky is blue, clear, jovial and ethereal
To welcome with open heart spring which is
So beautiful, fresh, colorful, and at ease
Oh! It's a reborn again time which is real.

Oh! Friends, it's the most wonderful season
Green lawns and shrubs return to the horizon
The birds resume their blissful refrains
Listen to the sound of the old fashioned trains.

Little children play on the unpaved avenue
Gorgeous ladies walk around almost ****
Where some amateurs fall into pleasant dreams.

The trees are already full of sweet sap and the streams
Are in good and superb shape for the season
Dear friends, naturally the harvest will be cornucopian.

Copyright © April 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Le ciel est bleu clair, blanc et éthéré
Pour accueillir à cœur joie le printemps
Si beau, frais, coloré, et endimanché
Oh! C'est un jeune et nouveau temps.

Oh! Les amis, c'est la plus superbe saison
Les gazons verts retournent à l'horizon
Les oiseaux reprennent leurs refrains
Écoutez passer les vénérables trains.

Les petits enfants jouent dans les rues
Maintes belles femmes se promènent presque nues
Où certains se plongent dans des agréables rêves.

Les arbres déjà bien remplis de douces sèves
Sont en bonne et superbe forme pour la saison
Chers amis, naturellement fructueuse sera la moisson.

Copyright © April 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
The old lady caught up to me
fell asleep forgotten and woke up free
in the magpie madness
cobblestone cradle race

god called me today
with a mouthful of autumn leaves
spider fingers nesting at my navel
I hear her heartstrings
plucking out a buried song
in the last longing lookback
of seasonal surrender
Ken Pepiton Oct 31
Listen up,

WE ARE LOCKED IN

we breathe the same air
under the same tolerance limits
to pressure change
from home
balanced
on spinoriality paths,
confirmed as real
by Eric Weinstein,
through long generations
of social revolvings, along a spiral,

ever widening, ever lengthening
ever empowered, some how
or why
ever after
any theorized boom loops
to wobble while sorting ifey and al
re towb rhymes robe, ra' is okey aight
the knowledge of towb ra' okeh aight
lean
alittle left behind kinda
lost scared child fear planter guilt
lose
breathe
List, insist list winds
and listen are related,
hear the helicopters practicing war,

tilt of the ear lent
in attention
to a thought experiment, a will,
a lust
to know, a kleu
in lieu of wissen,
kenst du mehr, baa

make a goat noise.
{Jenny Rae wrote and performs, still}

Sudden wisdoms sometimes stick
the place of the goats is where
scapegoats got away to…
free to graze the balsams

- Ein Gedi, what was the secret?

Without religious authority
many leaders would not
make the connection
Ein Gedi, balm vow
If the first thing divides,
so as to see the other side of things,

when things were mere thoughts,
no noise, no gaseous form, no words
no licensed poet breaking walls
to discover more Phrygian form
of freedom jinns imagined
before Rome, and pride
of freed men, ever after,
to those who think links…


Brevis explicatio Logos nada mas
just the thought
all that is made
believable and un,
in truth's wisdom used
to form the profile
of these tree form
concepts potentials
for budding formed fruits
white space edge wise wits
born upon a recipe or formula
in eretz per se, where is the seed
of all we ever so far have known, or
ever stretched our attention
to grasp at that beyond
our reach, or so we as
unbelievers, let do
been told ask what lies
to believe or burn forever,
by tyrannies , Jefferson swore
to oppose any such, and I agreed,
over the mind of our kind. Not by king nor
by priests who had secrets, holy stories
too horrible
to tell
to just any, heady child
with a will
to discover true kleu

clashing concepts perceived as precepts,
community values, local reception spirit,
- we're adrift
often until lately, it was a reference
to those whose claim
- marked goodwill/peace
on Earthian residence rations
is archeo-logos wise, offered
for all chosen
to breathe.
Earthian air breather rights, claim,
just as deep as any letter user let loose
anywhere we ever learned
to use the tekhne,
- tune Tom's Phrygian Backing Track
available anywhere this line can be read,
even in the dark, starlink the whole world,
prepositioning us always after 2024,
what would that cost, Elon?

Get the never ending story power source?
Tap in to textual spells binding minds, for fun.
You would change next,
more than Carnegie,
you would launch the next text reader expansion,

ask the right questions,
get the right answers, no sense
in taking 42 as cool or hot or stupid.
That is a test.
This is temptation, not led into.
Stretched out attention spans, loose.

If we were to live and never die, ever
after today, it would seem this way,
we would grow tired, and fade,
firm gripe on the football,
gripe, no, I thought grip.

What, me worry?
You must have a Mad infection of memes.

Were we led away
from forced trial and tempt's?
Jeff, should knowledge be free?

Are  you re-always and such real-ly helping
when I imagine praying as one might to a king,

O, king, live forever,
be remembered for making access
free for any with a will to make poetry work again.

-Knock us back to the idea the Phyrigians had
when they dug their city in Tufa stone,

Derinkuyu, my ai knew,
those people,
whose head gear carries ancient memes,
Phrygians, liberty caps, Smurfs,
like on old dimes, or French Olympians
all the trials, all the opposing forces, global eyes
realize, unrealized truth that
we are the crew,
liberty called
to break every yoke
and set the captives free.

We know what Phrygian Liberty is.

The mind behind Christmas sent us,
this is Lifeship Earth, and business is not,
wrong, usury is, and poor who learn how
money works first learn how it does not work,
don't lie
tithing
to a story tied
to a promise and a threat, hanging
over your reformed parents, seen
as young children NPCs
in historical drama, FPS, your eyes,
we see those AGA days, no gain MA
multi mental aweform we see, oh, not us,
it was them, a we of hungry white peasants,

given a gun and an ax and sent to any where,
back when America was becoming Great,
go west, young man,
go feed your own family - you worthless
****, aye, and ever was so, never got rich,
carried some family shame,
and sometimes some pride, appropriated,
evidence, a byword, Pride comes before a fall,

well, tell the truth, USA, is a mythos, not a logos,
both sorts of stories we can turn into drama,

or opera, my Phrigian Libertarian muse, uses
Phrygian background tracks on YouTube,
allowing my estimation
of enough,
in terms
of answers
to questions, common,

what would you expect to do for fun, forever?

Imagine that.

With a will, a vision, a hope it works this way
to empower words
with a peace, we make, whiling
in above average good health,
while connected
to gear that was science fiction
when I got my first Macs,
in 1985, Apple Talking
in this direction
turning our capsule
of creatifity,
into a door

Terra nullius, land unclaimed,
territory
of the mind and other forms
of spirit and will, claimed
at this locus,
this point
in time when your eyes
read these words and think each
must tie
to words common
to us all,
readily recognized
in translation

defusing confusion, discretely
discerning cause, asking why
deciders create ontology
of wedoms
declaring Christmas, message, messenger
to direct our steps
from now
through next,
Messiah,
by any other name, the same,
the promised one
in tales told children,

the promised redeemer
from debt
due
to liars claims
of right, assigned
by Truth, the royal order,

Original Intent is being disputed…
{Please ignor the intrusive ads,
  in context of knowledge now,
  think of it as invincibility exercise}

we post Christmas spirits keep laughing

the promised redeemer declaring,
"I am the way, and the truth, and the life."
Patient, yes, the action.
In logos and locus, where focus fixes locus,
here am I, searching my darkest parts,
obverse
of inverse rectangular portals
light pours
through fitted
in words unsung or said

with authority
for authority sake, as war
is waged, deemed worth the cost, as work
for those charged
with collecting sustenance
hopes of finding meaning attended to,
all in one at once, a trio, soothing musing.
Trinity, if you please, three-way ointment,
soothes and resmooths,
All the balm in Gilead, came from Ein Gedi
it is a lovely place
ai but so disputed
frustration, fraud and beliefs of Socinianism
Brevis explicatio Logos nada mas, yes, those

long winded oral traditonalists
human to human
beliefs, used.

In terms of prayer,
defined as mind to mind,

direct intercession thought,
per haps, as may hap, mediated,
expand to set all lies
at liberty
to be unbelieved
no ritual approach, walking labyrinths
with completed courses marked
to reflect appropriately
on life
after the maze,
by grace and proven virtue
through which the supplicant passes

and is accepted into the purity of time,
constant and true, worthy to test us all.


To truth, I pray,
acknowledging my breath,
acknowledging my comfort,
acknowledging my hope

to be of good use today,
to be of good cheer today,
to be of good faith today,
strong confidence,

I pray, in truth, for the confused
and fearful believers in confusion,
clearly commoner than comfort today
peace
and space

in the realm
of mindshare given me,
in answer

this is what we can know, not our duty
but to know what it does, not to doit.

[[Swearing and cursing] are entirely different things :
the first is invoking the witness
of a Spirit
to an assertion you wish
to make ;
the second is invoking the assistance
of a Spirit,
in a mischief you wish
to inflict. ]

---{the will to ill use the others. }

[When ill-educated and ill-tempered people
clamorously confuse the two invocations,
they are not,
in reality,
either cursing or swearing ;
but merely vomiting empty words indecently.
True swearing and cursing must always be distinct and solemn

.... [Ruskin, "Fors Clavigera"]]

Locus amoenus ("pleasant place")
Ein Gedi, is such for me, sweet balm

Let us all sit and see common joys
as common sensed truths at locus
- all the strings in mind
"gypsy child" (enfant de Bohême),
literatrueerists literally trussed in storied modes

offered as fair told,
in truth of life lessons,
learned and learned anew,

to be retold verbatum to the ostiary

each season, on bringin' sheaves,
each litter
of young'ns initiated
into duty

learning the ways
of warriors or defenders,
or ostiary, gate guard, watch man,

what of the night? The answer, is yours

do we post our tail and tax the patient one time readers?

Or take it so far as to sell it, to the fastest reader?


At first hint of endless ink
and endless paper, none
known as common here
could say no, got no need.

Wish when praying to believe,
wish while praying to receive,

reaching out, empty handed,
take the grace guaranteed, indeed,
by the story told at winter's door,
to be the joy for dark days ahead,
while the whole land rests below,
white cold that kills the unready.

Slow and steady, walking on frozen rain,

thinking, breathing, swallowing, breathe
thinking, this is uphill, yawning, thinking

this is like a chapter in a novel, but,
in all the other novels being read right now,
all the novel readers are imagining tomorrow
from today, which, of course, in human events
is called today, to this very common concentrat-
ed U new ifity, to this very common liberty sense

today, I had to ask some body, was this a pain to read?
A seasonal bemusement for any using such things to while with
Parlons du charme pittoresque de l’automne
Des cloches de l’Angélus qui carillonnent
Des fleurs autrefois jolies et fortes, sur le gazon
Oh ! Automne, tu es une très belle saison!

Parlons des pétales et sépales tombés du ciel
Où les arbres sont médusés et presque dévêtus
Et les oiseaux stupéfaits sont tombés des nues
Oh ! Automne, j’aime ton sourire doux et naturel.

La saison de l’automne a un charme sensationnel
Une fraîcheur tiède et confortable et un ton solennel
C’est l’or du soir qui tombe toute la sainte journée.

Ce sont les feuilles et fleurs multicolores sur le tapis
Oh ! Automne, tu nous donnes beaucoup à imaginer
Et nous montres comment mirer des moments polis.

P.S. Ce poème est dédié à Victor Hugo.

Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
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