If one rainy night you find yourself
leaving a phone booth, and you meet a man
with a lavender umbrella, resist
your desire to follow him, to seek
shelter from the night in his solace.
Later, don’t fall victim to the Hypnotist’s
narcotic of clarity, which proves
a curare for the heart; her salve
is merely a bandage, under which memories
pulse. Resist the taste for something still
alive for your first meal; resist the craving
for the touch of a hand from your past.
We live some memories,
and some memories are planted. There’s
only so much space for the truth
and the fabrications to spread out
in one’s mind. When there’s no more
space, we grow desperate. You’ll ask
if practicing love for years in your mind,
prepares you for the moment,
if practicing to defend one’s life
is the same as living? You’ll
hole up, captive, in a hotel room
for fifteen years and learn to find
a man within you, which will prove
a painful introduction to the trance
into which you were born. Better
to stay under the spell of your guilt,
than to forget; you’ve already released
your pain onto the world; don’t believe
there’s some joy in forgetting.
There’s no joy in the struggle to forget.
And what appears as an endless verdant field,
only spreads across a building’s rooftop;
your peaceful sleep could be a fetal position,
which secures you in a suitcase in this field.
A bell rings, and you fall out of this luggage
like clothes you no longer fit. Now what to do?
You remember when you were the man
who fit those clothes, but you’ve forgotten this
world. Even forgotten scenes from your life,
leave shadows of the memory,
haunting your spirit
until, within a moment’s glance,
strangers passing you on the street,
observe history in your eyes. Experience
lingers through acts of forgetting,
small acts of love or trauma
falling from the same place. Whether
memory comes in the form of a stone
or a grain of sand, they both sink in water.
A tongue—even if it were, say, sworn
to secrecy; or if it were cut from one’s mouth;
yes, even without a mouth to envelop
its truth—the tongue continues to confess.
A few random poems:
- The Garden of Janus poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- I Come From There by Mahmoud Darwish
- By The Fates poem – Alfred Austin
- On the Road to Nowhere by Vachel Lindsay
- Resolved To Be Loved
- Composed on The Eve Of The Marriage Of A Friend In The Vale Of Grasmere by William Wordsworth
- Sonet 32 by William Alexander
- Владимир Британишский – В пыльном, душном, купеческом
- Юргис Балтрушайтис – Одиночество
- By the Dusk – Ao Entardecer by Soaroir de Campos
- The Law of the Jungle by Rudyard Kipling
- The Puzzled Game-Birds by Thomas Hardy
- Владимир Маяковский – Весь провел советский план… (Главполитпросвет №41)
- Владимир Маяковский – Смотри, крестьянин (РОСТА №463)
- Владимир Британишский – Богаевский
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Федор Тютчев – Как верно здравый смысл народа
- Федор Тютчев – Как птичка, раннею зарей
- Федор Тютчев – Как он любил родные ели
- Федор Тютчев – Как ни тяжел последний час
- Федор Тютчев – Как ни бесилося злоречье
- Федор Тютчев – Как неожиданно и ярко
- Федор Тютчев – Как нас ни угнетай разлука
- Федор Тютчев – Как летней иногда порою
- Федор Тютчев – Как дымный столп светлеет в вышине
- Федор Тютчев – Как бестолковы числа эти
- Федор Тютчев – К портрету государственного канцлера, князя А.М. Горчакова
- Федор Тютчев – К Нисе
- Федор Тютчев – К Н.
- Федор Тютчев – Анненковой (D’une fille du Nord, chetive et languissante)
- Федор Тютчев – А. Н. М.
- Федор Тютчев – А.А. Фету (Тебе сердечный мой поклон)
- Федор Тютчев – 23 Fevrier 1861
- Федор Сваровский – Слава стране моей
- Федор Сваровский – Речь на юбилее
- Федор Сваровский – Путешественники во времени. свидетель зиндийского удара
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
A. Van Jordan, born 1965 in Akron, Ohio, USA, is a contemporary American poet and the author of four important collections: Rise, which won the PEN/Oakland Josephine Miles Award (Tia Chucha Press, 2001); M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A, (2005), which was listed as one the Best Books of 2005 by the London Times; Quantum Lyrics, (W.W. Norton, 2007); and The Cineaste (W.W. Norton,, 2013). Jordan has been awarded a Whiting Writers Award, an Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, and a Pushcart Prize.