We present this work in honor of the poet’s 120th birthday.
Suddenly, I recall that town—
the red rooftops along the river bank;
and then, on the waters of that broad blue river
a white sail—quietly, quietly moving;
and on the grass of the riverbank
a young man, an artist
idly staring at the water.
And I? What was I doing?
When I think I can’t remember,
I realize it was all a picture in a borrowed book.
Translation by David Jacobson, Sally Ito, and Michiko Tsuboi
Cythera saw Adonis
And knew that he was dead;
She marked the brow, all grisly now,
The cheek no longer red;
And “Bring the boar before me”
Unto her Loves she said.
Forthwith her winged attendants
Ranged all the woodland o’er,
And found and bound in fetters
Threefold the grisly boar:
One dragged him at a rope’s end
E’en as a vanquished foe;
One went behind and drave him
And smote him with his bow:
On paced the creature feebly;
He feared Cythera so.
To him said Aphrodite:
“So, worst of beasts, ‘twas you
Who rent that thigh asunder,
Who him that loved me slew?”
And thus the beast made answer:
“Cythera, hear me swear
By thee, by him that loved thee,
And by these bonds I wear,
And them before whose hounds I ran—
I meant no mischief to the man
Who seemed to thee so fair.
“As on a carven statue
Men gaze, I gazed on him;
I seemed on fire with mad desire
To kiss that offered limb:
My ruin, Aphrodite,
Thus followed from my whim.
“Now therefore take and punish
And fairly cut away
These all unruly tusks of mine;
For to what end serve they?
And if thine indignation
Be not content with this,
Cut off the mouth that ventured
To offer him a kiss”—
But Aphrodite pitied
And bade them loose his chain.
The boar from that day forward
Still followed in her train;
Nor ever to the wildwood
Attempted to return,
But in the focus of Desire
Preferred to burn and burn.
We present this work in honor of the Tunisian holiday, Martyrs’ Day.
Do not fill their voices with smoky air
because shut mouths of despair are blocking their spit, their revived viruses,
their weaknesses to tell the story
when the noise of a rolling stone is swearing at god.
Shall I, at least, say
that memory is decayed
that history is dismayed;
that past is dead deeds
and mythological dates are the land’s seeds
as the sheep have forgotten about the wolf’s teeth
clacking?
Shall I say that Eternity
means not a Calvin Klein’s perfume
but looms above their hats and doom
denying all celebrity?
Or will you forget someday
that trees have their leaves to be lost
over heartless pebbles and frost?
I have learnt from history that dam-builders
will be forever damned.
When the water will rise with the people’s tears,
it will spare none.
Shall I tell about a woman’s cry
amid sounds and swear-words?
Or loudly my voice will tell of
female shapes whose bodies have been displaced for time and space
in fashion magazines?
Can I turn on a TV pretending to re-appropriate history
or will its waves bring about voiceless shouts?
Now, when writing is fired by scientific neutrality that cries:
“I AM THE WORLD!”
Can I, at last, see purged tongues laying down their sandals and feet
with no chance even to cheat
or tell what their hearts hide?
Will I be hanged when they will understand?
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 225th birthday.
Nature is magic and a dream in beauty and charm,
The black stone and the dry grass look golden.
Through a thousand springs gushes forth, a thousand tongues say it
“Whoever dies today, he dies one thousand times”.
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 255th birthday.
Cups of crimson wine are circling in rounds of dance
If the beloved is glimpsed, this party abounds in dance
God made this beloved peerless in my view
Everything before my eyes resounds with dance
You captivate beasts and birds along with people low and high
Each in its way obeys your command in bounds of dance
Leave the party of my rivals and come over to mine
I’ll show you a star whose very name sounds like dance
Why shouldn’t Chanda be proud, O Ali, in both worlds?
At home with you she eternally astounds with dance
Now we are far apart
one from the other
my heart has dried up
but my tears keep falling.
In losing you my days
have turned black.
When I was with you
even my nights were white.
It’s as though we never spent
that night together
with no third presence
save our two selves made one,
a night our lucky star
caused even gossips
who would spy on us
to turn away their eyes.
We were two secrets
held by the heart of darkness
until the tongue of dawn
threatened to denounce us.
Translation by Cola Franzen
We present this work in honor of the Ching Ming Festival.
Though life is brief, feeling is everlasting;
That is why man wants to live long.
The sun and moon follow the stars.
The whole world loves this name.
The dew is cold, and the warm wind drops;
The air is penetrating, the day bright.
The departing swallow leaves no shadow;
The returning wild goose brings a lingering cry.
Wine can wash away a hundred woes,
And chrysanthemums set a pattern for old age.
Why should I, a hermit,
Gaze vacantly at the change of seasons?
The ministers are ashamed of their empty grain jars.
The autumn chrysanthemums are alone in their beauty.
I alone sing while fastening my garments.
A feeling of melancholy stirs deep within me.
It is true that there is much amusement in living,
But in idling is there no accomplishment?
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 165th birthday.
Rose with dark eyes,
mirror of your nothingness,
rose with dark eyes,
make us believe in the mystery,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.
Rose the colour of pure gold,
oh safe deposit of the ideal,
rose the colour of pure gold,
give us the key of your womb,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.
Rose the colour of silver,
censer of our dreams,
rose the colour of silver,
take our heart and turn it into smoke,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.
Though I die and die again a hundred times,
That my bones turn to dust, whether my soul remains or not,
Ever loyal to my Lord, how can this red heart ever fade away?
We present this work in honor of the 75th anniversary of the poet’s death.
Do not let your head tilt forward
Nevermind my heart, never mind
Don’t let them hear you’re crying
Nevermind my heart, nevermind
Crazy waves outside
Come and lick the walls
These sounds distract you
Nevermind my heart, nevermind
Even if you can’t see the sea
Turn your look upwards
The sky is like the sea
Nevermind my heart, nevermind
When your troubles rear up
Send a reproach to Allah
There are still days to see
Nevermind my heart, nevermind
Bullets finish by shooting
Roads end by walking
Your sentence finishes by serving
Nevermind my heart, nevermind
Poets Corner 