O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be! O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear, – if I were loved by thee! All the inner, all the outer world of…
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I stumbled across a grain of truth, In the suns last drops of light, As I stood out in my garden, And watched the fruit bats daily flight, They moved as though united, Their flapping wings a silent dance, And as they flew above me, I stood frozen in a trance, Their flight conveyed such…
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Dunya Mikhail was born in Iraq (Baghdad) in 1965 and came to the United States thirty years later. She’s renowned for her subversive, innovative, and satirical poetry. After graduation from the University of Baghdad, she worked as a journalist and translator for the Baghdad Observer. Facing censorship and interrogation, she left Iraq, first to Jordan…
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बग़दाद के अपने बग़ीचे में मैं अक्सर भागा करता था उसके पीछे मगर वह उड़कर दूर चली जाती थी हमेश। आज तीन दशकों बाद एक दूसरे महाद्वीप में वह आकर बैठ गई मेरे कन्धे पर। नीली समन्दर के ख़यालों या आख़िरी साँसें लेती किसी परी के आँसुओं की तर॥ उसके पर स्वर्ग से गिरती दो…
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What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the unanswered question, the resolute doubt, — dumbly calling, deafly listening—that in misfortune, even death, encourage others and in its defeat, stirs the soul to be strong? He sees deep and is glad, who accedes to mortality…
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Where the Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows…
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Do not give me only perfect For there is beauty in what lacks, The things that are most true Are filled with flaws, covered in cracks. So stumble on your sentences, Forget the words you need, To those parading as perfection I must say; pay them no heed. For it is you and your surroundings,…
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દસ વરસની ગણતરીઓ અને મથામણ પછી મારી પાસે છે ત્રણ ઓરડાવાળું ખોરડું એક ઓરડો મારો, ઉજ્જવળ ચન્દ્રનો બીજો ને ત્રીજો, સ્વચ્છ પવનનો. નદીઓ અને પર્વતો માટે તો જગા જ રહી નથી. એમને તો મારે બહાર જ રાખવાં પડશે. મારા નિસાસા બની જાય પવન ને મારાં આંસુઓ, છાંટણાં વર્ષાનાં જે ફૂંકાય ને છંટાય, મારી મરજી મુજબ…
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I remember you as you were that final autumn. You were a gray beret and the whole being at peace. In your eyes the fires of the evening dusk were battling, and the leaves were falling in the waters of your soul. As attached to my arms as a morning glory, Your sad, slow voice…
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Now I out walking The world desert, And my shoe and my stocking Do me no hurt. I leave behind Good friends in town, Let them get well-wined And go lie down. Don’t think I leave For the outer dark Like Adam and Eve Put out of the Park. Forget the myth. There is no…
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The wind is blowing no more The fallen leaves are resting After landing now They’re making a crunchy sound as I walk on them The naked tree is coming to terms With its bare-all look. No longer trying to hide from the nearby bench exchanging glances with the flowing creek The trail is blazing bright…
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What though thy bed be frozen earth, Thy cloak the chilling blast; What though no mate to cheer thy path, Thy sky with gloom o’ercast- What though if love itself doth fail, Thy fragrance strewed in vain; What though if bad o’er good prevail’ And vice o’er virtue reign- Change not thy nature, gentle bloom,…
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Informational Decay I heard an echo in a hollow place. No sound of blowing wind or drifting sand, some ancient voice was this, a captive trace of gone-by speech, of argument, demand, of plea or question, comfort or command. Long years this message had remained unheard in empty halls, in untenanted lands, a letter lost,…
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After Great Pain After great pain a formal feeling comes- The Nerves sit ceremonious like Tombs; The stiff heart questions- was it He that bore And Yesterday- or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round A Wooden way Of Ground, or Air, or Ought, Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the…
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Eternity The sun habitually cajoles men with red lollipops. Day is mother’s lap–in her colourfully printed sari one hides the face and rests. The whole day we keep hiding behind things but the night. A Jewish poet of Manhattan had said in my presence once “I love you, but I don’t like you.” When I…
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I Want to Write I want to write I want to write the songs of my people. I want to hear them singing melodies in the dark. I want to catch the last floating strains from their sob-torn throats. I want to frame their dreams into words; their souls into notes. I want to catch…
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The Meaning of Simplicity I hide myself behind simple objects so you may find me, If you do not find me, you will find the objects, you will touch those objects my hand has touched the traces of our hands will mingle The August moon gleams like a tin kitchen kettle (what I am…
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Canticle VI You have a fear: End. You do not see that you end up all day. That you die in love. In sadness. In doubt. In the desire. That renews all day. In love. In sadness. In doubt. In the desire. That you are always another. That you are always the same. That you…
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RUMI AND THE REED Listen to the song of the reed flute: It sings of separation. Torn from the leaf-layered, wind-voiced Banks of the pond, It is joined to sorrow and joy By a slender sound. Who, asked Rumi, can understand The reed’s longing to return? Let its raw lips rest then; Let all words…
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પ્રયોજન ક્ષણનું આ અસ્તિત્વ છે એથી તો હું ગીત ગાઉં છું ને આ મારી પૂર્ણ જિંદગી નહીં સુખી: નહીં દુખી. નિરામય હવા રમે છે શ્વાસ. હું કવિ મારો હોય કાવ્યમાં વાસ. પળપળ સરતા સકલની સહ મારે લોહીની સગાઈ; નહીં આનંદ: નહીં વ્યથા: નહીં કથા: નહીં તથા: નહીં કાંઈ. રાતદિવસ હું મુક્ત હવામાં મ્હાલું. નાશ પામું…
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