Primavera

Des nuages s’étirent, s’étirent irréels,
Entre les branches noires enlacés.
Tout l’hiver devant ma fenêtre, qui s’en va
Et la danse de lumière sur les crêtes lointaines.

Cet oiseau jamais aperçu !
Et le printemps et mon amour.
Mes yeux qui s’éclairent, mes lèvres qui éclosent,
Mon corps …

Il fait très doux et très clair.
Le monde est calme autour, en tendresse.
Oh ! un moment, rien qu’un moment de calme pour
toute souffrance.
Car Dossie pleure les cris matinaux de ses enfants.

Du monde je ne vois qu’un rectangle bleu
Strié de noir luisant.
Les branches tendent leurs bourgeons au soleil,
Lèvres ouvertes, lèvres offertes.

Je n’entends que le chant de l’ami inconnu,
Le pas monotone d’un pion
Et mon amour qui pousse dans le silence
Du printemps.

- Léopold Sèdar Senghor

Le partisan

When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender
This I could not do
I took my gun and vanished.
I have changed my name so often
I've lost my wife and children
But I have many friends
And some of them are with me
An old woman gave us shelter
Kept us hidden in the garret
Then the soldiers came
She died without a whisper
There were three of us this morning
I'm the only one this evening
But I must go on
The frontiers are my prison
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows
Les Allemands étaient chez moi
Ils me dirent, "résigne toi"
Mais je n'ai pas peur
J'ai repris mon âme
J'ai changé cent fois de nom
J'ai perdu femme et enfants
Mais j'ai tant d'amis
J'ai la France entière
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a caché
Les Allemands l'ont pris
Il est mort sans surprise
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows


-Leonard Cohen

Cheongomabi / 천고마비

Proof of goodness in the world: an October afternoon, jujubes ripening,
the faint edge of chaste green on their ruddy cheeks. Such a color.
Not crimson, not scarlet, certainly not vermilion. Perhaps red ochre,
derived from hematite, a dusty, bloody red, oldest of pigments.
See: a hand negative on a cave wall, an ox, paint blown through bone.
Once my menstrual blood left the the shape of a crane, one wing extended,
the other half folded, on a white towel. Once I thought I would never
have a baby. Today, the sky is high, the horses are sleek with autumn fat.
I crave cold noodles in broth and fresh chestnuts. My belly has yet to show.

-Hyejung Kook

Leda, no Swan

Where I'm not given a complaisant smirk
my mouth might be a slightly startler "O" - 
a half a 'no' that needn't count as No. 
You will deduce he didn't have to work
so very hard, to part my pretty legs.
His curving neck, my curving arm, his beak
in almost a caress against my cheek - 

no, this is not a scene, you'll say, that begs 
use of the hard word Rape. Where is the rape?
Look how the gentrle victim's dreamy eyes
register nothing more than 'vague' surprise;
those limbs suggest no effort at escape.
Ever been frightened by an animal?
Ever get knocked, sprawling flar on your back
in the senseless impact of brute attack?
Ever been winded, and hysterical?

Wings that could break your arm thrashing your chest, 
a black bill hissing in your eyes, obscene,
inhuman, spitting noises that can mean
nothing but let-me-get-it-in; you, pressed
with the weight of a foreign body on 
your guts, clammy webbed feet scrabbling to get
a purchase; two or three rough jerks; a jet
of alien slime
                                                       Don't get raped by a swan.

That's my advice. They said he was divine,
when they found me retching myself inside
out, afterwards, throwing up as if I'd 
never stop. They said, treat it as a sign 
of enviable favour. You're a myth,
now, they said; try to behave like one. Though
what I always wished, if you want to know,
was that I'd had something to hurt him with. 



                                                             - Eleanor Brown

Remember me when I am gone

Remember me when I am gone away,
   Gone far away into the silent land;
   When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
   You tell me of our future that you planned:
   Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
   And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
   For if the darkness and corruption leave
   A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
   Than that you should remember and be sad.


- Christina Rossetti

Qu'est ce que les rois mages

Qu'est-ce que les Rois Mages
ont-ils pu apporter?
Un petit oiseau dans sa cage,
une énorme Clef

de leur lointain royaume, -
et le troisième du baume
que sa mère avait préparé
d'une étrange lavande

de chez eux.
Faut pas médire de si peu,
puisque ça a suffi à l'enfant
pour devenir Dieu.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

O que teriam trazido 

os reis magos?

Um passarinho em sua gaiola,

uma enorme Chave

de seu longínquo reino - 

e, o terceiro, um bálsamo

preparado por sua mãe

com uma estranha lavanda

que lá crescia. 

Não se diga que era pouco,

já que bastou para o menino

se tornar Deus.

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me. Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day. Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

-WH Auden

Olho para as estrelas, e sei bem

Que por elas, eu poderia me foder.

Mas na terra, a indiferença é sem

dúvida, de gente e bicho, pouco a temer.

Como nos sentiríamos se as estrelas por nós ardessem

Com uma paixão que não pudéssemos retribuir?

Se não pode se igualar a afeição,

que seja minha a maior paixão.

Admirador como sou (estou imaginando)

de estrelas que estão cagando,

agora que as vejo, não posso dizer

que, pelo dia, senti a saudade me roer.

Se morressem todas as estrelas, ou sumissem,

Eu aprenderia a olhar para um céu sem

estrelas, e achar sublime o céu de breu,

mas isso demoraria - acho eu.