26 Kasım 2024 Salı

"Peer at the pupil of a flame." - Hang Kang

 

Winter through a Mirror

          Hang Kang, translated by Sophie Bowman

 

1.

Peer at the pupil of a flame.
Bluish
heart
shaped eye
the hottest brightest thing
that which surrounds it
orange inner flame
the thing which flickers most
that which surrounds again
half-transparent outer flame
tomorrow morning, the morning I
depart for the furthest city
this morning
the bluish eye of a flame
peers beyond my eyes.

2.

Now my city is spring morning, if you pass through the core of the earth, bore straight through the middle without wavering, that city appears, the time difference there exactly twelve hours behind, the season exactly half a year behind so that city is now an autumn evening, as though silently following someone that city follows behind mine, to cross over the night to cross over winter I wait silently, while my city outruns that one like somebody silently overtaking

3.

Inside the mirror winter is waiting
A cold place
An utterly cold place
It’s too cold
objects cannot tremble
your (once frozen) face
cannot shatter
I don’t reach out my hand
you also
don’t want to reach out your hand
A cold place
A place that stays cold
It’s too cold
pupils cannot waver
eyelids
do not know how to close (together)
Inside the mirror
winter waits and
Inside the mirror
I cannot avoid your eyes and
You don’t want to reach out your hand

4.

They said we would fly for an entire day.
Tightly fold twenty-four hours pop it in your mouth and
go into the mirror they said.
Once I unpack in a room in that city
I should take time to wash my face.
If the suffering of this city silently overtakes
I will silently lag behind and
when you are not peering at it for a moment
lean against the frosty back of the mirror
and hum carelessly.
Until, having tightly folded twenty-four hours
and spat it out nudged with your hot tongue
you return and peer at me

5.

My eyes are two candle stubs sliding drips of wax as they consume the wick, it is not searing nor painful, they say that the quivering of the bluish flame core is the coming of souls, souls sit on my eyes and quiver, they hum, the outer flame swaying in the distance sways to get further off, tomorrow you leave for the furthest city, here I am ablaze, now you put your hands into the tomb of the void and wait, memory bites your fingers like a snake, you are not seared nor in pain, your unflinching face does not burn or shatter

for more pls visit:https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/two-poems-by-han-kang/ 

20 Eylül 2024 Cuma

Fall, rosy garlands, from my head!

 


pic: Cathédrale Notre-Dame



September, 1819

Departing summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.

No faint and hesitating trill,
Such tribute as to winter chill
The lonely redbreast pays!
Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays.

Nor doth the example fail to cheer
Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
And yellow on the bough:—
Fall, rosy garlands, from my head!
Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed
Around a younger brow!

Yet will I temperately rejoice;
Wide is the range, and free the choice
Of undiscordant themes;
Which, haply, kindred souls may prize
Not less than vernal ecstasies,
And passion's feverish dreams.

For deathless powers to verse belong,
And they like Demi-gods are strong
On whom the Muses smile;
But some their function have disclaimed,
Best pleased with what is aptliest framed
To enervate and defile.

Not such the initiatory strains
Committed to the silent plains
In Britain's earliest dawn:
Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale,
While all-too-daringly the veil
Of nature was withdrawn!

Nor such the spirit-stirring note
When the live chords Alcæus smote,
Inflamed by sense of wrong;
Woe! woe to Tyrants! from the lyre
Broke threateningly, in sparkles dire
Of fierce vindictive song.

And not unhallowed was the page
By wingèd Love inscribed, to assuage
The pangs of vain pursuit;
Love listening while the Lesbian Maid
With finest touch of passion swayed
Her own Æolian lute.

O ye, who patiently explore
The wreck of Herculanean lore,
What rapture! could ye seize
Some Theban fragment, or unroll
One precious, tender-hearted scroll
Of pure Simonides.

That were, indeed, a genuine birth
Of poesy; a bursting forth
Of genius from the dust:
What Horace gloried to behold,
What Maro loved, shall we enfold?
Can haughty Time be just!

21 Mart 2024 Perşembe

"La poesia appartiene a chi ne ha bisogno, non a chi la scrive." - Il Postino (1994) #worldpoetryday

 



Ode to the sea

Here surrounding the island,
There΄s sea.
But what sea?
It΄s always overflowing.
Says yes,
Then no,
Then no again,
And no,
Says yes
In blue
In sea spray
Raging,
Says no
And no again.
It can΄t be still.
It stammers
My name is sea.

It slaps the rocks
And when they aren΄t convinced,
Strokes them
And soaks them
And smothers them with kisses.

With seven green tongues
Of seven green dogs
Or seven green tigers
Or seven green seas,
Beating its chest,
Stammering its name,

Oh Sea,
This is your name.
Oh comrade ocean,
Don΄t waste time
Or water
Getting so upset
Help us instead.
We are meager fishermen,
Men from the shore
Who are hungry and cold
And you΄re our foe.
Don΄t beat so hard,
Don΄t shout so loud,
Open your green coffers,
Place gifts of silver in our hands.
Give us this day our daily fish.


14 Şubat 2024 Çarşamba

"That in black ink my love may still shine bright" (Shakespeare, Sonnet 65)

  Beyond Lash™Volumizing Mascara (Black Ink)


 

Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

 

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,

Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out

Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,

When rocks impregnable are not so stout,

Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?

O fearful meditation! where, alack,

Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?

Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?

Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

   O, none, unless this miracle have might,

   That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

"Peer at the pupil of a flame." - Hang Kang

  Winter through a Mirror           Hang Kang, translated by Sophie Bowman   1. Peer at the pupil of a flame. Bluish heart shaped eye the ho...