Όταν δεν είσαι εδώ (When you are not here) – Agron Shele / Translated into Greek by Dr. Kapardeli Eftichia

Poem by Agron Shele     Όταν δεν είσαι εδώ   Όταν δεν είσαι εδώ Κάτι λείπει από το βιβλιοθήκη μου, Ίσως μια επιστολή Ακόμα και ένα βιβλίο Των οποίων οι σελίδες έχουν περιηγηθεί χιλιάδες φορές Και το φως Κλεμμένο … Continue reading

Poesie di Caterina Tagliani

Poesie di Caterina Tagliani

 

COME LOHENGRIN

Perché racchiuda il sangue salvatore
t’ho preparato un calice, Signore,
vi mesceranno il vino e un poco d’acqua
a quella aggiungerò solo il mio cuore.

Il calice lo so, è sempre amaro

per questo l’ho cosparso di topazi
azzurri come il cielo, come il mare
perché allevino un poco i tuoi dolori
riveston l’argento e l’oro fuso

ma il calice lo so, è sempre amaro

Signore, come Loengrin l’ho custodito
prima di deporlo al tuo altare,
e rimarrà alle genti come leggenda
d’un anno Giubilare che ho inciso

per Te che m’hai sostenuto ogni momento.

Sellia Marina, 01 Settembre 2017

 

AMO E SENTO
( il mio tempo non è mai stato tempo perso)

Un saluto, un abbraccio, un addio
l’ultimo gradino raggiunto, vicino a Dio
la pace sosta, il cuore colma,
scende l’oblio sui campi arati di miseria,
assolta ogni virtù celata fra le ortiche,
rovi sanguinanti dietro la porta
bussano, divelta una magnolia
carca di fiori gravidi di pioggia.
Lacrimano i vetri, cristalli come neve
sul balcone, spoglia la strada dove attarda
un ombrello che scaldar voleva al solleone.
Quante visioni il pensiero crea!
Mai paga la mente si disseta
a questa fonte che poesia plasma
vagando tra incudine e martello
cercando dentro i nidi ora deserti
il canto melodioso di un uccello
che all’alba desta e sopra un fiore posa,
persa la divisa che cingevi .
vuota è la storia, ridatemi almeno la memoria
dei giorni ormai fuggiti insieme all’ore
e agli anni spesi accanto a un focolare
che non ha più scintille e pieno il cuore
rimembra volti felici intenti a dotte dispute,
conta le assenze e ascolta,
canti di bimbi e strilla dispettose
risuonano nell’aria che mi abita,
son qui, le sento vibrare ogni momento
così sarà per sempre perché amo e sento…

Sellia Marina, 14 Gennaio 2019

 

LA PICOZZA 

Una scultura all’uomo che lavora
più volte offeso ed or ricostruito
risplende nel dipinto che l’artista
ha dipinto per il nuovo calendario.

Luce soffusa nella nicchia splende
inonda l’uomo, allevia la fatica
di alzare ad ogni istante la picozza,
sostiene lui e il piede sulla roccia.

Scivola l’acqua sulle dure pietre,
empie un bacino dove lo sforzo affonda,
azzurro, come la volta che lo circonda.

Sellia Marina, 13 Novembre 2017

“Mos e shisni shtëpinë e Vjetër” është një trokitje në ndërgjegjen tonë (Refleksion rreth poezisë “Mos e shisni shtëpinë e Vjetër” të autorit Mark Simoni) /

“Mos e shisni shtëpinë e Vjetër” është një trokitje në ndërgjegjen tonë   (Refleksion rreth poezisë “Mos e shisni shtëpinë e Vjetër” të autorit Mark Simoni)     Çdo njëri në mëngjes pa i lar sytë bënë diçka që ndoshta … Continue reading

Poem by Mohamed  Abdul Aziz RABIE / Translated into  BAHASA MELAYU by Siti Ruqaiyah HASHIM 

Poems  by Mohamed  Abdul Aziz RABIE

Prof Mohamed Abdul Aziz Rabie born in Hebron and now living in Washington is a distinguished professor who taught in many big universities in United States, Switzerland, Germany, Kuwait and Morocco in the field of International Political Economy. He had published more than 45 books in English and Arabic including: The Politics of Foreign Aids, The New World Order, Conflict Resolution and The Middle-East Peace Process, US-PLO Dialogue,The Making of American Foreign Policy.His memoirs consist of five books including Memories That Defy Forgetting, two novels and three poetry books etc. He is the President of Arab Thought Council,and Executive Director of Institute of Palestinian Studies.He was a member of Harvard University team and The Brookings Institute to advance peace and economic development of Middle East. He was awarded the Highest Award of Palestine. Recently he was chosen as The Top 100 Writers of The World by International Biographers Society.

 

PORTRAIT OF A REFUGEE

Running, running everywhere
From here to there to nowhere
Running night and day
Without knowing
Where to go, where to stay

A displaced, dispossessed refugee
Must flee war zones and hide
Deprived of home, identity and land
Searching for a hospitable homeland

Holding hand in hand
Young and old are walking
One eye on the road ahead
The other on what left behind

Moving from cave to cave
Valley to valley
Across mountains of snow
Oceans of mud and sand
Bodies are tired
Eyes are tired
And souls are sad

A refuge must keep walking
Looking for kind people

To listen to his agonizing story
Give him a new chance in life
Free his children from fear and need
And old ties that bind

The soul is angry feeling bad
Unable to accept or understand
Why it should be forever stranger
Wherever it may go or land

The brain is getting worried
No longer able to have peace of mind
Memories seem to grow old
And may soon be buried in sand
And history forgets the life they had

Soon the body will die
In silence without a whisper or cry
It does not matter how and where
Refugees have no right to know
No matter how long they may stay
The land can never be their land

Worms will multiply eating the flesh
Transforming it into natural fertilizer
So wild flowers could grow and bloom
And the sunflower shines like a little moon

The soul will resume wandering
Traveling with dignity and pride
Flying across turbulent oceans
Green mountains and fields of sand
Promoting peace and freedom
The sharing of love
And love of the land

Blessing the good
Forgiving the bad
Unifying people of the world
Cultures, religions and land

Building brick by brick
A dream the body never had
Where life is renewed every day
In the never ever Land
A loving shared homeland

 

POTRET SEORANG PELARIAN

Lari, lari ke sana sini
Dari sini ke sana dan tiada tujuan akhirnya
Lari siang dan malam 
Tanpa mengetahui 
Ke mana dan di mana akan tinggal

Pelarian yang hanyut dan tak punya apa 
Perlu lari dari perang dan bersembunyi 
Hilang rumah tangga, jati diri dan tanah air
Mencari negara baru yang sudi menerima

Berpegangan tangan
Yang muda dan tua terus berjalan 
Sebelah mata memandang ke hadapan 
Sebelah lagi bersama tanah air yang ditinggalkan

Bergerak dari gua ke gua
Lembah ke lembah 
Menyeberangi gunung dan padang salji
Lautan lumpur dan pasir 
Tubuh menjadi lemah
Pandangan jadi kabur
Dan jiwa teramat lara

Orang pelarian mesti terus berjalan 
Mencari manusia baik
Untuk mendengar cerita derita mereka
Dan memberi peluang baru kepada mereka 
Membebaskan anak-anak mereka dari ketakutan dan beban keperluan hidup 
Dan mengikat hubungan lama untuk menyambung silaturrahim

Jiwa merana kerna derita 
Tak dapat menerima dan memahami 
Kenapa harus jadi orang asing selamanya 
Ke mana juga mereka pergi dan sampai

Minda menjadi risau 
Tiada lagi ketenangan jiwa 
Segala kenangan menjadi seperti terlalu lama 
Yang tidak lama lagi akan terkubur 
Dan sejarah melupakan kehidupan masa lalu mereka

Tidak lama lagi jasad akan mati
Dalam kesenyapan tanpa bisikan mau pun tangisan 
Tidak penting bagaimana dan di mana dia meninggal dunia
Orang pelarian tiada hak tahu 
Berapa lama pun mereka berada di situ
Tanah itu bukan milik mereka

Cacing pun membiak dengan banyak memakan tubuh
Tanah di situ bertukar subur oleh baja asli 
Supaya bunga-bunga liar boleh tumbuh dan kembang 
Dan bunga matahari mekar bersinar seperti bulan kecil

Roh-roh akan terus menerawang 
Mengembara penuh dengan harga diri dan bangga 
Di kehijauan bukit dan padang pasir 
Mempromosi keamanan dan kebebasan
Berkongsi kasih sayang 
Dan cinta kepada negra

Mereka merestui kebaikan 
Memaafkan keburukan
Menyatu-padukan manusia seluruh dunia 
Dengan kebudayaan, agama dan negara yang sama

Mereka membina sedikit demi sedikit
Mimpi-mimpi yang tak pernah dicapai semasa hidup 
Dengan kehidupan baru bertukar saban hari 
Di alam barzakh 
Sebuah negeri dikongsi bersama oleh semua orang

 


Translated into  BAHASA MELAYU by Siti Ruqaiyah HASHIM 
FROM: NEWS FROM STRASBOURG ANTHOLOGY

Poems by Hannie Rouweler

Poems by Hannie Rouweler
 
 
I CALL WITH MY SUPERFICIAL HISTORY KNOWLEDGE
 
We can change. Not just you and me.
Everyone can change – I call from a chair.
No, you don’t come across many Japanese in China
in a garden with China goers, in Deventer.
No, that was true already before the war.
 
The one northern part and the other northern part
were already points of contention and areas
of attack for annexation.
Stop all those annexations – I call from a chair.
All that worldly interference
under the guise of well-being and charities
with underneath
layers of greed, envy, lusts of power.
 
Love the lust – I call from a chair.
Love is the main word in all holy scriptures
and even in haikus.
Start writing haikus, senryu and tankas.
You see that all of that in few words and images
has rights
to exist. On its own. That everyone and everything
is well off with self-contemplation, self-determination.
 
 
 
ROEP IK MET MIJN OPPERVLAKKIGE GESCHIEDENISKENNIS
 
We kunnen veranderen. Niet alleen jij en ik.
Iedereen kan veranderen – roep ik vanaf een stoel.
Nee, in China kom je niet veel Japanners tegen
in een tuin met China gangers, in Deventer.
Nee, dat was al voor de oorlog zo.
 
Het ene noordelijke deel en het andere noordelijke deel
waren al twistpunten en aanvalsgebieden
voor annexatie.
Hou op met al die annexaties – roep ik vanaf een stoel.
Al die wereldse bemoeizucht
onder het mom van welzijn en goede doelen
met daaronder
lagen hebzucht, afgunst, machtswellustigheden.
 
Heb de wellust lief – roep ik vanaf een stoel.
Liefde is het hoofdwoord in alle heilige geschriften
en zelfs in haiku’s.
Ga haiku’s, senryu en tanka’s schrijven.
In weinig woorden en beelden zie je dat alles
rechten heeft
om te bestaan. Op zichzelf. Dat ieder en alles
goed af is met zelfcontemplatie, zelfbeschikking.
 
 
ALL THAT CRAZY TRAVELING
 
From here to there
hurled like baboons in the jungle
we travel around –
most can hardly show where they are
never mind where they will arrive
 
Bags full in the plane
chair next to chair man next to man woman next to woman
through the narrow paths –
then they are stuck for hours in a chair with food on their lap
and when they arrive overtired and jet lagged to the moon
 
Worst of all that traveling is
not so much gasoline costs pollution
but everyone returns –
again leg to leg head to head again
jacket on and off and pack and unpack suitcases
 
All that crazy travel
one is not well advised to go on a journey like this
little joy little insight –
one of the greatest philosophers saw only his own windows
Nietzsche stayed home and loved it the most.
 
 
 
AL DAT IDIOTE GEREIS
 
Van hier naar daar
geslingerd als bavianen in het oerwoud
we reizen erop los –
de meesten kunnen nauwelijks aantonen waar ze
vertrokken laat staan waar ze aankomen
 
Tassen vol in het toestel
stoel naast stoel man naast man vrouw naast vrouw
de smalle paden door –
dan zitten ze urenlang vast op een stoel met eten op schoot
en als ze ergens aankomen bekaf en moe en met jetlag
 
Ergst van al dat reizen is
niet zozeer de benzine de kosten de vervuiling
maar ieder keert terug –
nog eens weer opnieuw been tot been hoofd tot hoofd
jas aan en jas uit koffers inpakken en uitpakken
 
Al dat idiote gereis
men is niet goed wijs om nog zo op reis te gaan
weinig vreugde weinig inzicht –
een van de grootste filosofen zag alleen zijn eigen ramen
Nietzsche bleef thuis en hield er het meest van over.
 

The book “Savage Wind” of Asoke Kumar Mitra is available on Lulu.com / Translated into Spanish by Josep Juarez

Savage Wind Par Asoke Kumar Mitra http://www.lulu.com/shop/asoke-kumar-mitra/savage-wind/paperback/product-24223044.html?fbclid=IwAR3cMGpJkzhBqBKNJjM_lfYpT9JTZeCWDsWmo6vl_vVz0sI_XmgIMM0ASkc A Bilingual Edition Translated into Spanish by Josep Juarez It is a book that leaves its leaves with the wind of nostalgia and its leaves fly among the memories in an autumn that will … Continue reading