do you speak persian | kaveh akbar

Aug. 16th, 2017 10:53 pm
carthaginians: ([sw] the force is with me)
[personal profile] carthaginians posting in [community profile] poetry
Some days we can see Venus in mid-afternoon. Then at night, stars
separated by billions of miles, light travelling years

to die in the back of an eye.

Is there a vocabulary for this—one to make dailiness amplify
and not diminish wonder?

I have been so careless with the words I already have.

I don’t remember how to say home
in my first language, or lonely, or light.

I remember only
delam barat tang shodeh, I miss you,

and shab bekheir, goodnight.

How is school going, Kaveh-joon?
Delam barat tang shodeh.

Are you still drinking?
Shab bekheir.

For so long every step I’ve taken
has been from one tongue to another.

To order the world:
I need, you need, he/she/it needs.

The rest, left to a hungry jackal
in the back of my brain.

Right now our moon looks like a pale cabbage rose.
Delam barat tang shodeh.

We are forever folding into the night.
Shab bekheir.

Ke-Mo Village Girl

Aug. 7th, 2017 01:52 pm
kay_mulan: (daisy)
[personal profile] kay_mulan posting in [community profile] poetry
I am a Mo Village girl.
I wander, sell beer, happen to meet you.
Good jars don't mean good brew.
Clothes well-mended are better than ill-sewn.
Bad beer soon sends you home.
A torn shirt when mended will become new.

Em la con gai Ke Mo,
Em di ban ruou tinh co gap anh.
Rudu ngon chang quan be sanh,
Ao rach kheo va hon lanh vung may.
Rudu lat uong lam cung say,
Ao rach co mun, va may lay lanh.

Henry V, Act 5

Aug. 7th, 2017 01:38 pm
kay_mulan: (nom nom nom)
[personal profile] kay_mulan posting in [community profile] poetry
"Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them: and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep mouth'd sea,
Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal and ostent
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in:
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,"

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