Ah! Nights
Ah!
Nights you were a harem
and I the unmade Bedouin too long in the thirst.
Past the black eunuch of the night
I would steal to your tent,
unarmed save one single arrow in my quiver.
I'd draw sensuously back your damascene veil
and let fly my shaft
deep into your bull’s-eye arabesque --
Or: you were queen of the hive
and I a drone among the honeys
getting a buzz on and doing my job
plunging among the dusky clover
trying to pollinate the skies
to flower the night with stars.
To lose my only stinger would be to die --
Or else you were madonna
awaiting your Jealous Commanding God,
The Spawner Of The Cosmos,
Beam Of Light Made Flesh To Hold You In Your Place
(while you shook in rapture for the coming of your Lord,
i a small choirboy would steal into your unguarded churchyard
and send a solitary firework into the cathedral's secret hole
and hope it explodes high up in those beribbéd vaults
and surprise celibate fathers from their sleep).
A (usually) daily ezine devoted to artistic creativity -- poetry, prose, the visual arts. It is a continuation of duanespoetree.blogspot.com, which is still available for browsing and research. All artists are welcome to participate -- just send me your wonderful creation to duanev@hotmail.com with an obvious heading. Everyone is also encouraged to use the COMMENTS section. Show your appreciation to the contributors, add insights, ask questions.
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Moinak Dutta writes
In memory of that man Writing something about you is like Trying to make a swim through a sea, Through wave after wave ...
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Dah: Besides being a prolific writer and the author of seven poetry books, I am an award-winning photographer, and a yoga practitioner ...
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In memory of that man Writing something about you is like Trying to make a swim through a sea, Through wave after wave ...
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Sophia (wisdom) She emerged from the bus right in front of us gracefully flowed into the park and though it was gett...
Oh! Nuits
ReplyDeleteoh! les nuits ou vous etiez un harem
et moi le Bedouin trop longtemps torture par la soif--
je vous volerais de votre tente
devant l'eunuque noir de la nuit,
desarme, sauvant rien qu'une fleche dans ma gibociere,
ferais reculer votre voile de damascene
et laisserais ma fleche profondement voler dans votre petite fenetre arabesque--
ou: vous etiez la reine de la ruche
et moi un faux-boudon parmi les miels
obtenant un bourdonnement en fonction et faisant mon travail
plongent parmi le trefle sombre
et essayant de feconder les cieux avec du pollen
pour fleurir la nuit avec des etoiles
-- detruire ma seule aiguelle, ce serait mourir...
ou bien vous etiez la madone
attendant un Ordonnant Dieu Jaloux
Le Poisson Aux Oeufs Du Cosmos
Un Grain De Lumiere Devenu Chair pour tenir en place
Iet tandis que vous avec attendu dans le ravissement l'arrivee du votre Lord
moi, un petit jeune choriste, me glisserais dans votre court d'eglise sans surveillance
pour envoyer un solitaire fou d'artifice dans le trou secret de la cathedrale
dans l'espoir qu'il eclate haut dans les voutes tremblentes
et surpend dans leur sonmeil les peres celibataires).
--tr. Alina Duminica & Dorin Popa
Ah netëve
ReplyDeleteAh! Netëve ti ishe një valltare haremi
dhe unë, Beduin i paformuar dhe i etur prej kohësh-
duke ndjekur eunukun e zi nëpër natë, unë do të vidhja në tendën tënde,
i paarmatosur me përjashtim të një shigjete të vetme në brezin tim,
do ngrija velin tënd damaskjan dhe do ngulja shtizën time thellë në qendrën e Arabeskës tënde –
Ose: ti ishe mbretëresha e kosheres
dhe unë një zukamë mes mjaltit
duke u dehur dhe duke bërë punën time
zhytur në mesin e tërfilit të mugët
duke u përpjekur të polenizoj qiellin që të lulëzojë në natën me yje -
humbja e thumbit tim të vetëm do të thotë vdekje...
Ose akoma, ti ishe një Shën Mëri
Në pritjen e një perëndie xheloz, Ngjizësi i Kozmosit,
Rreze Drite e bërë Njeri për të t’ mbajtur
(Ndërsa ti prisje në ngazëllim ardhjen e tëndit Zot,
Unë, një korist i vogël do të vidhja në varrezat e tua pa varrmihës
Për të ndezur një fishekzjarrë të vetme në vrimën e fshehtë të katedrales
me shpresën të shpërthejë gjer në kupolat e katedrales,
në habinë letargjike të etërve beqarë).
--tr. Irsa Ruçi