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rig Jan 23
roots earth water
own compartment
paged meals
visible deities
ressilences fire air
tongue to unmute
wordless dialogues
(translated from my original portuguese "faltas", which is a 7-square)
Nylee Jun 2020
How is it that you have written a story about me
without even knowing me
How is it that you have translated my feelings
which I have no idea about
How is it that there are hundreds of words I've never used
describing my thoughts exactly
You have drawn me with a single stroke of brush
a replica the mirror can never make
is this my imagination or your imagination
who is creating me
Sally S Ali Jun 2019
I wanted to scream
While my mouth is closed
Like a concealive bullet.
To cry deeply
To look for a cat:
And sing for it sadly at least;
Put my face in the lab of my palms and shake:
Forward .. backward
Forward.. backward
Like a mother
who lost her daughter, suddenly.

Farewell is an idea;
A growing shrunb of evil.
You think it a flower;
Telling yourself:
She is being grow a bit,
and stay with me,
Bright forever.
sun vis-a-vis sun
rose vis-a-vis a rose
Song vis-a-vis song
Heart vis-a-vis heart
Cry vis-a-vis hug
A smile vis-a-vis stumple.

But the trees of Loss
Have black long fingers.

In the beginning:
They gently touch your fingers
-as if it is a begining of a hug,
Or a kiss on the wrist-
The fingers intertwine
Like two lovers who would walk
till the the borders .. of the sea.

And gradually
Everything glows
One by one
Until you sit alone
Face to face;
Contemplating the mirror of fire
Until you both turn into
By: Sally S. Ali
From Arabic By: Shurouk Hammoud
Nerilia Xekoen Feb 2019
Keep your catty heart
in the cold chest of yours.
Wipe out the tears made of iron.
With an ivory on the wall
carve my name - if you can,
inbuilt it, if you can, with a piece
of an fading memory.
Throw it away, if you can,
in the traces of the ocean waves.
Ghost of an caged memory in an amber.
The time can not touch it.
The ocean can not wash it away.
He is left to sleep in an sandglass long time ago.

A catty heart -
cold hands on the wall.
Eyes - gazing in the wistful silence
Thoughts - drown in the ocean
Knees - on the floor they're leaning
Heart - left to burn in the fire,
In the blue flames
Tears of molten iron
With an ivory my name on the wall has been carved,
to remind has been left
In the traces of the ocean waves his mind is wandering
in an sandglass
This is the english translation of my bulgarian poem with the name
"Спомен от слонова кост" written a few minutes ago.
Jayantee Khare Dec 2018
The moments....

Slip like the sand
Never come back

Hurt like the eye dust
Pass like a caravan

Err in the seconds
Punish for years

Fluid like the streams
Yet stuck in breath

Fragrant like the flowers
Scatter like the petals

People say no comeback
Yet peep in the thoughts and dreams

रेत की तरह फिसलते लम्हे
लौट के कहाँ आ सके लम्हे

धूल की तरह आँख में चुभे
कारवां रहे गुज़रते  लम्हे

दी सज़ा मुझे साल की कई
बार बार क्यों ज़ुल्म करते लमहे

धार में बहे वक़्त की रवां
साँस में मग़र अटकते लमहे

महकते रहे फूल से खिले
पंखुड़ी बने बिखरते लमहे

लौटते नहीं लोग ये कहें
ख़ाब ख़्याल में झाँकते लम्हे

Ghazal.....wrote and translated
Batool Dec 2018
من میں ڈوبوں
ابھروں نہ
ڈھونڈوں خود کو
ملے خدا
ذات کے پنجرے
میں روح قید
ٹوٹے تالا
ملے پتہ !! ۰۰

God and Me (translation)
drown in the depths of soul
and never resurface
I was set to find myself
yet ended up finding God
My soul is caged
in confinement of my body
break the lock
So I can find myself
Denise Uy Sep 2018
Ang sumusulat -
Lumalamig ang puso,
Nag-iisa lang.
Damdaming tinatago -
Nagsusulat ng tanka.

The person writing -
Her heart is getting colder,
She's isolated.
Her feelings are her secrets -
She is writing a tanka.
This is a tanka in my language, Filipino. I tried to translate it to English and keeping its tanka form.
Aseel Aug 2017
فقدتُ اهتمامي بكلّ شيء، يرتديني الضجر، و لا صبر لي لانتظار النهايات، أو الاستماع لأحدهم يتحدثُ عن يومه. أبترُ مقطوعة موسيقية لأبدأ من وسط أُخرى، أكتفي بمشاهدة عشر دقائق من الأفلام، أقرأ صفحةً من كلّ كتابٍ بجانب سريري، و لا أجلسُ في مكان واحد لما يزيد عن دقيقتين.

I no longer care about anything.
boredom covers my body, and I can't even be patient enough to wait for the end, any end, or to hear you talking about your day.
I cut one peace of music to start from the middle of another one. I watch 10 minutes from each movie and read a page from each book on my desk.
I can't stay in one place for more than two minutes.
And I'm bored. I'm bored with people, life, and myself.

Shut in her room with the scent of roses
pounded with wet stones
picked one by one from the riverbank and shining still,
Hesione struggled to remove the clasps
which she placed on a piece of cloth weaved by her grandma.

Days later she lay in bed wrapped in a sacred vestment.
Secret hopes torpedoed her body
and for a moment removed the clasps from the groin.
All worthless.

People were buried nearby.
The freshly-dug graves smelled of tamarisks.
She and the Thoans scanned the sea.
Nothing reminded one of who she was and why she mourned.
She forgot all about Hercules, thurifications and joys never to be.
Now all worthless.  

*Hesione: daughter of Laomedon, king of Troy, and sister of Priam.
She was chained by her father on a rock to be devoured by a monster in order to appease the anger of Apollo and Poseidon.  Hercules promised to deliver her, for a reward of Laomedon’s wonderful horses, and killed the monster.
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