"han" poems
*Diri masusukol an kahirayo han Imo urukyan
Bisan rocket plane pa it akon sakyan
Ha sinirangan ngan katundan ngadto gihap, aadto Ka
Bisan ha Ionosphere man ug ha pinakailarom han tuna
Languyon ko man an bug-os nga Pasipiko
Bisan milyones ka metros diri ak makakaabot ha Imo
Pero mayda ko nasabtan ug saad nga ginkakaptan
Bisan usahay diri ko intawon maintindihan
Nga bisan Ikaw an pinakahitaas han nga tanan
Nagpakaubos Ka para han Imo gugma ha kalibutan
Nga bisan harayo an imo kinabubutangan
Nahirani ka para pirme ko Ikaw madadaupan*
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Ha kamatuoran la, gin-susumhan na gud ako,
Diri ka pa ba gin-susumhan?
Hin mga buhat nga balik-balik nala?
Diri mo ba nahahalata?
Nga utro-utro nala kita?
Kun may napakiana ha imo, "Ano kumusta na?"
An pirmi mo baton: "Adi asya la gihapon, waray pinagkaibahan han kakulop!"
Ngan kontento ko na hito.
*The truth is, I am sick and tired.
Aren’t you sick and tired?
Doing the same things over and over again?
Still haven’t noticed it?
This has been like this again and again.
When somebody asks you, “How is everything with you?”
Your usual reply is: “Oh nothing’s changed same as yesterday.”
And you’re happy as it is.*
Usahay liwat nabati ako ha imo nga utro-utro an reklamo.
Nga baga hin kadaan ngan guba nga plaka,
Balik-balik an tukar, masakit ha talinga.
Reklamo an imo pamahaw,
Ngan amo la gihapon hasta panihapon.
Kay kuno makuri.
Kay kuno waray salapi.
Kay kuno waray kapas.
Kun may sweldo daw la an pag-rineklamo,
siguro maiha na unta nga nag-riko.
*Sometimes, I will hear you complaining again and again.
Like an old and broken retro vinyl,
playing over and over again, it is hurting my ears.
Complaining is your breakfast,
and it is your same meal for dinner.
Because it’s hard.
Because we don’t have money.
Because I am powerless.
If complaining will provide you a salary,
perhaps by now, you might quite be wealthy.*
Nagkatapo kita kanina ha dalan han "Kada Adlaw"
Asya la gihapon an imo sul-ot nga bado,
ngan an kabutang han imo buhok.
Asya la gihapon an pagkakurumos han imo nawong,
Ngan an bubble gum nga hasta yana imo la gihap ginsisinamsam.
Nangurog ako han kaluwad.
Tigda ako nahingasuka ha imo atubangan.
Pasayloa, pero magpapadayon ka nala ba hito?
Diri ka pa ba ginsusumhan?
Kay ha kamatuoran la, Naamin ako Nga Oo.
*I came across you at the street called “Everyday”
You were wearing the same clothes,
And your hair was fixed the same way.
You were having the same wrinkled frown in your face,
and was chewing the same bubble gum.
I cringe.
I suddenly felt vomiting in front of you.
I’m sorry, but will you keep on doing this?
Aren't you sick and tired?
Because to be honest with you, I think I am.*
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
An katubigan han sapa,
May iya iya man nga ganghaan,
uusa la an pag-lalagosan.
Tipakadto pakig-urusa
ha kabutngaan hiton dagat.
Tubig ako hin sapa.
Ikaw man in tubig han sapa.
Usa nga paglaom nga akon kakaptan.
Nga ikaw ug ako,
magigin' usa nga dagat
ha takna nga magkatarapo
kita -nga katubigan han sapa.
(You, Me, And The River Water)
The river water
May each have their own separate passage
Will always find its way in a similar course
Going to that meeting
In the middle of the ocean
I am a river water
You are another river water
A hope, I will keep holding on
A hope, that you and I
Will be one ocean
Coming that moment of meeting
Of us-the river waters
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
National Liberation Day Of Korea
Freedom means August 15, 1945.
Koreans celebrate their day of liberation.
Freedom is like a Magpie,
Flying in the morning sky,
Above the ancient palaces of Seoul,
Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon,
Growing in "The land of morning calm."
Freedom is like a river named Han,
Unstoppable!
Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi.
Outside and high!
Freedom is Lively,
Freedom is President Moon Jae-in
President of South Korea,
Freedom is vibrant!
Freedom is festivals,
Freedom is unhindered!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk,
Everland!,
Freedom is unbound!
Freedom is tasty Kimchi,
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is lively parties,
Freedom is dancing,
The greatest Palaces of Seoul!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is a green bottle,
Soju!
Freedom is Arirang!
Korea's song,
A gift to the world from Korea,
Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered,
Resting under a cherry blossom tree,
Freedom is Seoul!
A wonder to be seen on the Han River!
Freedom is luminous,
Busan Nightlife,
Changdeokgung Palace!
Freedom is unchained!
Freedom is sports,
Jeju-do!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is honor!
Battle of Inchon!
Freedom is rising in the sky,
One of the most dynamic cities,
Seoul!
Freedom is no longer
Imprisoned,
Freedom is camping,
Freedom is priceless!
Freedom is one's honor!
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is the miracle,
Seoul!
Freedom is food,
Freedom is Kimchi,
Freedom is hopeful,
Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun!
Long live Korean independence!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing,
Freedom is thinking about your dreams,
Not looking behind your back!
Freedom is a child going to school,
Freedom is ultra-modern,
Seoul!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is music,
K-POP!
Freedom is Arirang playing,
Freedom is essential,
White Day!
Freedom, people, shining in the sun,
Freedom is loved,
Yuna Kim!
Freedom is essential,
Freedom is "The March 1st Movement",
Yu Gwan-sun!
Freedom is shopping,
Freedom is walking our dogs,
Freedom is writing what you think,
Freedom is Sejong the Great!,
Hangul!
Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world,
Freedom is poetry,
Yun Dong-ju!
Freedom is traditions,
Freedom is wearing Hanbok.
Freedom is being empowered!
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
A United Korea!!!
Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
Mamingaw, pero nakakabungol
Nakakabungol, pero diri mo nababatian
Diri mo nababatian, pero maaram ka
Maaram ka, pero nadiri ka pag yakan
Nadiri ka pag yakan, pero karuyag mo nga masab'tan ko
Karuyag mo nga masab'tan ko, pero nagpabilin ka nga mamingaw.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm
And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick
But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me
Time just ticks off and I laugh at it
But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork
Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan
Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?
The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?
He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?
But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill
Shills
No life skills
And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road
While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine
How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"
All these strange things
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Ik kuddi jida naa mohabbat,
Gum hai. Gum hai, gum hai...
Saad muraadi, soni phabbat,
Guum hai.
Suurat ousdi pariyaan vargi
Seerat di o mariam lagdi,
Hasdi hai taa phul jharade ne
Turdi hai taa gazal hai lagdi.
Lamm-salammi, saru(Saro) de kad di
Umar aje hai marke agg di,
Par naina di gal samajhdi.
Ik kuddi jida naa mohabbat,
Gum hai. Gum hai, gum hai...
Goummeyaan janam janam han hoye
Par lagda jyon kal di gal hai.
Yun lagda jyon ajj di gal hai,
Yun lagda jyon *** di gal hai.
Huney taan mere kol khaddi si
Huney taan mere kol nahi hai
Eh ki chhal hai, eh ki phatkan
Soch meri hairan baddi hai.
Nazar meri har aande jaande
Chehre da rang phol rahi hai,
Ous kuddi nu tol rahi hai.
Saanjh dhale baazaaran de jad,
Moddaan te khushbu ugdi hai.
Vehal, thakaavat, bechaini jad,
Chau raaheyaan te aa juddadi hai.
Rauley lippi tanhai vich
Os kuddi di thudd khaandi hai.
Os kuddi di thudd disdi hai.
Har chhin mennu inyon lagda hai,
Har din mennu inyon lagda hai.
Judde jashan ne bheeddaan vichon,
Juddi mahak de jhurmat vichon,
O mennu aawaaz davegi,
Men ohnu pehchaan lavaanga
O mennu pehchaan lavegi.
Par es raule de hadd vichon
Koi mennu aawaaz na denda
Koi vi mere vall na vehnda.
Par khaure kyun tapala lagda,
Par khaure kyun jhaulla painda,
Har din har ik bheedd juddi chon,
But ohda jyun langh ke jaanda.
Par mennu hi nazar na aunda.
Goum gaya maen os kuddi de
Chehre de vich goummeya rehnda,
Os de gham vich ghullda rehnda,
Os de gham vich khurda jaanda!
Os kuddi nu meri saun hai,
Os kuddi nu apni saun hai,
Os kuddi nu sab di saun hai.
Os kuddi nu jag di saun hai,
Os kuddi nu rab di saun hai,
Je kithe paddhdi sundi hove,
Jyundi ya o mar rahi hove
Ik vaari aa ke mil jaave
Vafa meri nu daag na laave
Nahin taan methon jiya na jaanda
Geet koi likheya na janda!
Ik kudi jida naa muhabat.
Goum hai.
Saad muradi sohni phabbat
Goum hai.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
Nagpabilin nga mamingaw an mga kagab-ihon
Madampog an langit ngan waray bisan usa nga bituon
Maalinsuog an hangin nga nadukot ha akon panit
Pero ano man nga tigda nala tumaghom han nawara ka na ha akon sapit?
Hain ka na? Pakiana nga baga’t ruba nga plaka
An imo ngaran an akon inuguman tikang hiton gab-i kutob ngadto’t aga
An akon pagkakaturog in pirme man gud masaklap
Kay baga ako hin nahigda ha salog nga waray balon nga taklap.
Aadi pa ha akon mga kamot inin mga panyo nga minad-an
Han mga luha nga nagpapas nala tungod han kagul-anan
Gin mimingaw na gad ako han imo matam-is nga tingog
Sige man iton akon guliat pero dire ka man nakakdungog.
Hain ka na? mamingaw na an aton mga sonata
Hain na? hain na an aton gin-uungara nga istorya?
Waray naman gud rumabong an aton natindog nga relasyon
Waray kadiligi hin maupay asya tigda napuo an pundasyon.
Yana an huring nala han hangin an akon nababatian
Waray na bisan guliat o kurahab man la nga nadudunggan
Waray na gihap wantas inin uran, waray na ada plano pag-huraw
Sugad han aton gugma, nagpapabilin nga mamingaw.
- Caryl
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 8:19 AM UTC
Ito na ang huling araw na iisipin ki*Ta
talikuran ang lahat ng alaa***La
rawan natin ay itatago sa basura***Han
da na ako na ikaw ay kalimutan*
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Palabras, frases, sílabas, astros que giran alrededor de un centro fijo. Dos cuerpos, muchos seres que se encuentran en una
palabra. El papel se cubre de letras indelebles, que nadie dijo, que nadie dictó, que han caído allí y arden y queman y
se apagan. Así pues, existe la poesía, el amor existe. Y si yo no existo, existes tú.
El poema prepara un orden amoroso. Preveo un hombre-sol y una mujer-luna, el uno libre de su poder, la otra libre de su esclavitud, y
amores implacables rayando el espacio ***** Todo ha de ceder a esas águilas incandescentes.
Todo poema se cumple a expensas del poeta.
Mediodía futuro, árbol inmenso de follaje invisible. En las plazas cantan los hombres y las mujeres el canto solar, surtidor de
transparencias. Me cubre la marejada amarilla: nada mío ha de hablar por mi boca.
Cuando la Historia duerme, habla en sueños; en la frente del pueblo dormido el poema es una constelación de sangre. Cuando a
Historia despierta, la imagen se hace acto, acontece el poema; la poesía entra en acción.
Merece lo que sueñas.
6.8k
Mi alma de viento
mi cuerpo de papel.
mis manos arrugadas
mi piel blanca.
Soy de papel,
papel doblado,
papel de regalo,
mis labios coloreados
mis ojos café,
mi cuerpo tatuado
de versos ajenos
y otros privados.
Soy de papel
un poco desgastado.
Me han escrito en la espalda
mensajes que no logro ver,
me han cortado con tijeras
y me he arrugado con el tiempo.
Me han besado
y me han dejado las marcas del labial,
hay quienes leyeron mi alma descrita en prosa.
Pero se han ido, se han borrado
eso que con tanta pasión
un día nos unió.
Soy de papel,
papel de regalo,
papel de un cuaderno
olvidado.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Huna ko ba nga may ada mo iyayakan?
Ano man nga bagat na dire ka nga akon iton masabtan?
Waray ka na gad pag-tapod ha akon?
Pirmi naman la masulub-on iton imo bayhon.
Kumusta ka na? Bangin amo la gihap
An aton kahimtang sugad hin lasaw nga dire mo matarap
Kay kuno nalikay ka na ha akon
Ano ba itun basehan nga imo man ako pagbabasulon?
Mamingaw naman an mga gab-i nga marisaw
Napuno na hin kahagkot, kasakit ngan kahidlaw
Hain na an mga pahaliday nga imo ginhatag
Adton gugma nga waray mo ginsandag.
Madagmit man gud la an karida han panahon
Nga ha akon paghimangno dire ka na ngay-an akon
Aadto ka na man liwat ha iba
Aadto ka kay durudamo man it iya kwarta.
Waray ko na kababatii an imo tingog
Asya nga an akon adlaw pirmi nala maluntog
Pero aadi la gihapon ha akon huna-huna inin pakiana
Paglaom nga usa ka adlaw mabalik ka pa.
- Caryl
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 8:22 AM UTC
The darkness of secrets had kept me in shadows
The pain of the past had caused my family to weep
For they experienced life full of unjust woes!
Yet the Heavenly Lord has awakened me from sleep.
I hear the echoes of my forefathers’ voices,
They tell me to rise like the Mighty Sun,
It is time for me to wake and rejoice
On their legacy of what they have done.
The wise wind of fate pushes me to my destiny,
My blood burns with a new determination
As I am resurrected with a new identity
For my forefathers have impacted the entire nation
For many years I thought I was ordinary
Yet the cries of my ancestors beat like a drum-
Telling me to soar like a golden dragon.
In love and hate we have all endured and succumb
I give thanks to the heavenly divine sky
As he has given me a gift of armor made of courage.
“Awake my dear daughter”, the mighty Lord cry,
“Do not let the army of fear make you feel discourage.”
So the wind of destiny has revealed its plan
That I am to inherit their legacy,
Reclaim the throne and be the Princess of Han
For this is my destiny!
(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
Wonderful and beautiful
Fills my heart with joy
But alas, I have been called weird,
For my love of the story sublime.
I may not care about politics, unless Palpatine is involved,
But chancellors aside, Star Wars is where my world revolves.
I may not be courageous, like the awesome Han Solo,
But, when it inflames my heart, unstoppable I am, just like my heroes.
I cannot stress this enough, it may be bad as a passion, but Star Wars will never desert me! And that's just the start!
Sure, I could spend my time making a million dollars,
Or maybe even starting an empire,
but I see no better way to spend my time,
than to obsess on the thing that is mine!
(just kidding! I don't own it. Is saying that a crime?)
Anyway, to finish off my bad poem I must say one last thing,
STAR WARS STAR WARS YOU ARE MY KING!
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Ngayong araw ako'y siyang naatasan
Na ipakilala ang ating kaybigan
Mahirap sabihin, ang inyo nang alam
Kaylangang galing nya'y bigyang katarungan
Sikat sadya itong ating kaibigan
Pang-showbiz ang dating, pinagkakagul'han
Pagkat nang magsabog d’yos ng kagwapuhan
Tabo lang dala ko, sa kanya'y "orocan"
Ngunit bahagi lang 'yon ng katangian
Kung bakit sya'y tunay na hinahangaan
Talino at t’yaga ang kanyang puhunan
Sa pag-aaral ng buhay, kalikasan
Sya'y taong tunay ang angking kabaitan
Na dama ng tao, hayop at halaman
Sa dami ng kanyang lathalaing-agham
Sierra Madre'y nginig, kapag nagtimbangan
Palaka, butiki, ahas at butaan
Nang dahil sa kanya'y lalong natutunan
Lumaki't lumawak ating kaalaman
Kung kaya't umani laksang karangalan
Alam kong sa bawat uri ng palaka
O ibang buhay na sa mundo'y mawala
Kasama natin s’yang lungkot na luluha
Pagkat magkaugnay ang lahat sa lupa
Dedikasyon niya ay dapat tularan
Ipakilala s’ya'y isang karangalan
Si Arvin Diesmos po, Syentistang huwaran
Samahan n'yo akong siya'y palakpakan!
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
With its three southern branches reaching the Chu border,
And its nine streams touching the gateway of Jing,
This river runs beyond heaven and earth,
Where the colour of mountains both is and is not.
The dwellings of men seem floating along
On ripples of the distant sky --
These beautiful days here in Xiangyang
Make drunken my old mountain heart!
5.3k
Ves estas manos? Han medido
la tierra, han separado
los minerales y los cereales,
han hecho la paz y la guerra,
han derribado las distancias
de todos los mares y ríos,
y sin embargo
cuanto te recorren
a ti, pequeña,
grano de trigo, alondra,
no alcanzan a abarcarte,
se cansan alcanzando
las palomas gemelas
que reposan o vuelan en tu pecho,
recorren las distancias de tus piernas,
se enrollan en la luz de tu cintura.
Para mí eres tesoro más cargado
de inmensidad que el mar y su racimos
y eres blanca y azul y extensa como
la tierra en la vendimia.
En ese territorio,
de tus pies a tu frente,
andando, andando, andando,
me pasaré la vida.
5.3k
Mahamot nga sampaguita ngan pula nga gumamela
Amo ine an akon una nga ginhatag ha iya
Samtang ginhuhulat namon an katunod han adlaw
Ngan pinalalabay an kasanhi nga kahidlaw.
Pamukad han santan ngan orkidyas ha dalan
Umabat ak hin ka-ipa nga makuri mapug-ngan
Ha akon dughan in may ada makusog nga lukso
Kasing-kasing nga natago malipayon gud hin duro.
Katapos hi idoy in inalpan hin kaisog
Igsusumat na ha iya an pag-abat nga mabaskog
Iya na ighahalad inin espesyal nga rosas
Pero adton kalipay nga iya inaabat nabalyuan hin kalas.
Hi iday in may ada naman ngay an iba nga pina-uswag
Mga bukad nga ha iya igin hahatag in magpakaruruyag
Waray sapayan an imo rosas nga pinutos
Nga im gin-inantusan tikang pa han ka biyuos.
Asya an bukad nga gin kuha nalaya ngan nakarag
Kay ngadto han tawo nga iya minayuyo in waray kahatag
Tigdaay man gud la, waray hiya pakasabot
Pag-abat nga iya gindadara tigda nala nadunot.
- Caryl
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 8:17 AM UTC
Now, the truth
Luke & Leia is this love
Thank God not the wrong kind
Siblings apart since birth
Together till the end of time
Darth vader concious
Dark, evil, twisted
Luring Luke innocent
No Luke! Don't do it!
Doesn't matter he's your Dad
Doesn't matter how sad
He doesn't give a hoot
Who on earth he shoots
Stormtrooper beware
Puppet of your master
You will be beaten big time
By a gorgeous little Ewok
Chewy & Han
You are the man
Milenium shoots them all
You saved the day
Kept Darth vader at bay
You saved our heros
Wicked
Poor Han solid
In some ungodly squalor
Not the nicest end
Certainly not Han Solo's plan
Geez George ... really ...
Tin & metal
R2, See threepio
Nitter natter chatter
Lots of friendly banter
Cuter than buttons
You just wanna hug em
Jedi Knight Yoda
Played his part of course
Strong in force
He helped the cause
Although he has passed over
Goodness wins in the end
Good force takes the flag
Mighty, Epic, Timeless
And gloriously mad
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
¿Qué es esto? ¡Prodigio! Mis manos florecen.
Rosas, rosas, rosas a mis dedos crecen.
Mi amante besóme las manos, y en ellas,
¡Oh gracia! brotaron rosas como estrellas.
Y voy por la senda voceando el encanto
Y de dicha alterno sonrisa con llanto
Y bajo el milagro de mi encantamiento
Se aroman de rosas las alas del viento.
Y murmura al verme la gente que pasa:
-«¿No veis que está loca? Tornadla a su casa.
¡Dice que en las manos le han nacido rosas
Y las va agitando como mariposas!»
¡Ah, pobre la gente que nunca comprende
Un milagro de éstos y que sólo entiende,
Que no nacen rosas más que en los rosales
Y que no hay más trigo que el de los trigales!
Que requiere líneas y color y forma,
Y que sólo admite realidad por norma.
Que cuando uno dice: -«Voy con la dulzura»,
De inmediato buscan a la criatura.
Que me digan loca, que en celda me encierren,
Que con siete llaves la puerta me cierren,
Que junto a la puerta pongan un lebrel,
Carcelero rudo, carcelero fiel.
Cantaré lo mismo: -«Mis manos florecen.
Rosas, rosas, rosas a mis dedos crecen».
¡Y toda mi celda tendrá la fragancia
De un inmenso ramo de rosas de Francia!
4.8k
A fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains,
And the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source.
Watching the fresh-coloured trees, he never thinks of distance
Till he comes to the end of the blue stream and suddenly- strange men!
It's a cave-with a mouth so narrow that he has to crawl through;
But then it opens wide again on a broad and level path --
And far beyond he faces clouds crowning a reach of trees,
And thousands of houses shadowed round with flowers and bamboos....
Woodsmen tell him their names in the ancient speech of Han;
And clothes of the Qin Dynasty are worn by all these people
Living on the uplands, above the Wuling River,
On farms and in gardens that are like a world apart,
Their dwellings at peace under pines in the clear moon,
Until sunrise fills the low sky with crowing and barking.
...At news of a stranger the people all assemble,
And each of them invites him home and asks him where he was born.
Alleys and paths are cleared for him of petals in the morning,
And fishermen and farmers bring him their loads at dusk....
They had left the world long ago, they had come here seeking refuge;
They have lived like angels ever since, blessedly far away,
No one in the cave knowing anything outside,
Outsiders viewing only empty mountains and thick clouds.
...The fisherman, unaware of his great good fortune,
Begins to think of country, of home, of worldly ties,
Finds his way out of the cave again, past mountains and past rivers,
Intending some time to return, when he has told his kin.
He studies every step he takes, fixes it well in mind,
And forgets that cliffs and peaks may vary their appearance.
...It is certain that to enter through the deepness of the mountain,
A green river leads you, into a misty wood.
But now, with spring-floods everywhere and floating peachpetals --
Which is the way to go, to find that hidden source?
4.6k
Det varme brød ånder på træbordet
Sukker, efterlader spor af tilværelsen i sveden
Smurt ind i olie
Som mine lunger nu er smurt ind i tjære
- så blev det hele værre
Mit sind er nok sort nu fordi jeg fodrer det
Med hvide vægge og blå kameler
Farver indersiden af mine øjenlåg med nøgne løgne
Fordi sandheden er som en knytnæve der tæver
Og blod
I skridtets indre maskineri
Der fungerer som en rulletrappe
Kører alle de ufødte børn ud
Kyler alle de ufødte børn ud
Skuffer moder jord igen
Er ************ og abortion nu egentlig ikke det samme?
Jeg drømmer så der står blomster ud af begge ører
Danner min egen rosenhave
Venter på en gartner graver sig gennem torne og forestillinger til han når
De indre vægge i mit rytmisk, blodige hjertekammer
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
Ilang taon man ang lumipas
at bumalik man tulad ng bukas
Parang ganon parin at tila ba'y di kumukupas
Kung paano kita unang nakita't nasilayan.
Ganon parin ang aking nararamdaman at hindi nauubos tulad ng tubig sa karagatan. -HAN
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 5:56 AM UTC
Fingerprints and fibers,
Accumulated talk,
Whispers in the corners,
Bodies demarcated in chalk
On the marble courtroom stairs.
His misery became a pall.
With mourning signs in splattered pairs,
Red flowers on the wall.
All that he had left behind was grief
And powerless rage,
A Tansu chest in high relief,
A coiled brass clock fatigued with age.
Retreating to a white house in Simrishamn,
He’d walk his dog along the shore,
Find sterile clues amongst the sands,
And travel a ferry between two lands.
And now: An experiment! Blame Google Translate for this weird (?) Swedish translation: Please tell me if this is a bad translation!
Fingeravtryck och fibrer,
Ackumulerat samtal,
Viskar i hörnen,
Kroppar avgränsad i krita
På marmor rättssal trappor.
Hans elände blev en pall.
Med sorgsignaler i splatterade par,
Röda blommor på väggen.
Allt som han hade lämnat var sorg
Och maktlös raseri,
En Tansu bröst i hög lättnad,
En spolad mässingsklocka utmanad med åldern.
Att återvända till ett vitt hus i Simrishamn,
Han skulle gå sin hund längs stranden,
Hitta sterila ledtrådar bland sandarna,
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC