Once Paumanok, When the lilac-scent was in the air and Fifth-month grass was growing, Up this seashore in some briars, Two feather’d guests from Alabama, two together, And their nest, and four light-green eggs spotted with brown, And every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand, And every day the she-bird crouch’d on … More Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking II
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the shower’d halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they … More Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking I
The lamplight shines on my sleeplessness, My mind clear, I smell the splendid incense. Deep in the night, the hall rears up high, The wind stirs, and gold is heard to clank. The black sky masks the springtime court, To the pure earth clings a hidden fragrance. The Jade Rope wheels round and is cut, … More Poetry from Chang’an: Du Fu
Amor é privilégio de maduros estendidos na mais estreita cama, que se torna a mais larga e mais relvosa, roçando, em cada poro, o céu do corpo. É isto, amor: o ganho não previsto, o prêmio subterrâneo e coruscante, leitura de relâmpago cifrado, que, decifrado, nada mais existe valendo a pena e o preço do … More A vida passada a limpo
J’ai parti dedans la porte d’en arrière is how you say it, and this video of D.L. Ménard singing his famous song shows it. I like Louisiana French, with its strange grammars and borrowings. I feel foreign because unlike the other people in Spanish, my main department, and English, my other one, I study a … More D. L. Ménard, Alice Fulton
as if it were a scene made-up by the mind, that is not mine, but is a made place, that is mine, it is so near to the heart, an eternal pasture folded in all thought so that there is a hall therein that is a made place, created by light wherefrom the shadows that … More Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow
Here is quite a nice English translation of Apollinaire’s “Zone.” You are weary at last of this ancient world Shepherdess O Eiffel tower whose flock of bridges bleats at the morning You have lived long enough with Greek and Roman antiquity Here even automobiles look old Only religion stays news religion As simple as hangars … More Zone
Axé.
Check out Joan Manuel Serrat singing this famous poem, and observe these amazing Civil War photographs from Spain. Hernández wrote the poem in a Nationalist prison, upon receiving a letter from his wife saying she and the child were living on bread and onions. Here, Maria de Medeiros sings it. Axé.
It is another sweltering night. Some thing is moving on this page. You who can not be the sun’s right hand or the left thumb of the goat god Pan, the sun’s blood goat Pan, you must then be love. The bad love the stars give, all glitter eyeliner. What began as a sort of … More Es otra noche sofocante
