Old Boy poem – A. Van Jordan poems

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.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 

• Владимир Набоков – Как часто я в поезде скором by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – К Родине by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Из мира уползли, и ноют на луне by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – И видел я, стемнели неба своды by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Глаза by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Есть в одиночестве свобода by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Еще безмолвствую и крепну я в тиши by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Цветет миндаль на перекрестке by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Будь со мной прозрачнее и проще by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Большая медведица by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Безумец by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Набоков – Барс by Владимир Набоков
• Владимир Маяковский – Журнал “Крысодав” by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Живой труп (РОСТА №182) by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Жид by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Земля наша обильна by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Застрельщики by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Заря Коммуны разгорается туго… (РОСТА №856) by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Заносы не дают железным дорогам жить… (РОСТА №838) by Владимир Маяковский
• Владимир Маяковский – Заграничная штучка by Владимир Маяковский

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works