Long Bilingual Poems
Long Bilingual Poems. Below are the most popular long Bilingual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bilingual poems by poem length and keyword.
Today society to learn lessons from your not mistake but Justice!
“In society those who victim of characteristic by any mean, who believed to be deprived from their freedom not only speech? But often heard of claiming in our ‘Society’ or the ‘Peoples’ around us.
Most Important issue than civilization, Other than in the name of our creator, Are the most victim of personal injuries by any mean, to describe in words!
In society we trust, share and associate within not in the name of our creator Lord in life. to bears the pain of shadow rest of our entire Journey!
It’s believed to be only “you” are the one suffered in every kind in thought, and in imaginations the most regards having, ‘Belief’ in the name of unknown Lover, in his or her life?
Our Generations may and often are not aware of consequences to bear in minds to follow your path in culture but regards “crime” or “offenses” to lead your ways head! Today society to learn lessons from your not mistake but Justice! The true Judgements you never could get in life others to regrets for?
don’t despair or commit suicides it “you” God is playing with as toys or dole when we was as a child “You” was the most dear and nearest in families no one to share your belonging of toy’s to play with?
Other to take no part or to share your lonely hearts to enjoy as others God is to prove how strength you may and can hold to stands for in society to bear pain to liberates not speech but “Freedom” Other to enjoy and to follow the destinations of Journey,
you never could get but freely in their life? In Generation, many years and decade to comes”
…By bilingual author Abdul Haye Amin.
She is most like her age
Time having eroded some of her natural beauty
A few warts have appeared here and there in spots
Yet there is this blend of young and old alike melded into one
She has transformed herself from bilingual to multi-lingual
Despite this her character has little changed over a long existence
The night life she relishes still as vibrant as ever
If she was a building one would say she had age and charm
Her busyness belies her serenity
Blessed with a deep history she exudes confidence
Allowing her to grow and prosper
Into whom she is today
Nothing can dampen her spirit it seems
Though sometimes turbulent periods have been had
Through it all a humorist slant developed and enjoyed by many
Her name Montreal
Andreas Simic©
This is a true-life celebration of love ballad. A chance meeting on a Greek island becomes a whirlwind romance. From Athens’ vibrant Monastiraki markets to a Taverna where you can experience the lively traditional, passionate Greek culture and music.
Join Demetri and his spirited Sismo Dance Company to the strains of his Bouzouki. This Original bilingual (English/Greek) musical experience blends the magic of love at first sight with traditional and Mediterranean flair, to moonlit beaches, it’s a tribute to all those who’ve ever fallen in love fast, felt deeply, and dared to dream.
(YouTube, Subtitles in multiple languages)
(Simply click the Gear icon, choose your preferred language under 'Subtitles/CC'. Then click on 'Auto Translate.')
Come Closer To Me - Love at First Sight
LYRICS
COME CLOSER TO ME
Trelos ya sena
COME CLOSER, LOVE YOU TRUE,
Ella Konda mou na sou po,
MAY I HUG YOU,
Na s’angalayaso an boro,
I DANCED WITH YOU LAST NIGHT,
Ma ze sou horepsa egthes,
FOR ME YOU SEEMED SO RIGHT,
Agapi mou apo pou erthes?
COME CLOSER FOR IT IS MY AIM,
Ella Konda, na sou po,
TO TELL MY SECRET, THIS NO GAME,
To mistiko mou ella tho,
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Thellou na zesume mazi.
ENJOY OUR YOUTH AND IN IT BASK.
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
WE WILL LOVE, KISS AND SIP FROM WINE,
Sta hili sou ena fili, se agapo toso poli,
AND WHILST WE DINE,
Ke an to potiri me krasi
IF A GLASS MAY FALL, BREAK AND SPILL,
Poh tay gee thee,
LET IT BE ON ME, IF IT WILL.
Na eme ego, ke ohi esee.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
This morning I am glued to my TV,
for something has happened in DC!
I’m scratching my head.
Am I dreaming still in bed?
They are PRAISING the President on NBC!
I turn to CNN. It's all the same again!
From ear to ear Don Lemon wears a grin,
“...the President’s magnanimous...
a genius without animus...
In the next election he’s sure to win!"
WHAT?
Surely MSNBC will say something keen.
“The first lady should grace a magazine,”
says Chris Matthews all atingle,
“did you know she’s bilingual?”
The unobjective fawning is obscene!
Schumer and Pelosi toasting with champagne,
are heading Trump's re-election campaign!
The POTUS’s tweets
called, "poetry--like Keats"…
Has the planet gone completely insane?
At FOX News everyone is crying.
They’re shaking their fists and Oh-why-ing.
Hannity’s guzzling booze,
While Tucker sings the blues.
I wonder if pigs have started flying!
Something very strange has happened in DC!
And I am still glued to my TV,
uncertain if I woke
or if it’s all a joke…
The President simply switched from “R” to “D”!
January 31, 2019
I'm gone just like that at the blink of an eye
and the critics don't know what side I'm on
because I reside wit them both them
niggas that blow hella weed smoke
and this lost generation thats beggin for hope
and they think it's a joke but me I just float
away like a boat on a cruise and life or death
curses and blessings which one do you choose
and whats rule 1, live everyday like it's ya last one
poetically sadistic strapped emotionally wit a
brick of C-4 and a revolver wit one in the chamber
and since I'm a ghost, like the Great White Shark
my name spells danger I'm far from bilingual
but spiritually I then spoke every language
and I'm gone like the spirit of the lost victims
like a well people keeping throwing coins in
and keep wishing like Christians who's
spiritually fishing... I'm A Ghost
A bird, caged in jealous possession,
by silent assassins of suppression.
Fate took her voice, as she flew to be free,
now her songs are whispers of misery.
Is she a victim of reality,
drifting into realms of insanity.
Childhood trauma effects her mentally,
confused why humans act so venally.
Waiting for her loved ones to return home,
she's developed guardian angel syndrome.
Helping others, despite her own torment,
soothing their burdens whilst they lament.
Her bilingual tongue suffers in silence,
but at least her heart is safe from violence.
The Silent One
8 October 2020
This poem is not about me. I'm not a woman.
I have stuck to ten syllables, but I know the meter is not perfect.
Like Silent Laughter
David J Walker
I can still feel the cold water
Cool my tanned skin in the hot summer sun
The above-ground steel tank meant to
Quench the thirst of cattle
The salt lick that became our platform
The young cousins allowed to play
for an afternoon as children
Rare but very aware that
We were the children of the farm
And knew in bilingual blurbs the
Adjectives accenting hard work
But I don’t remember who was aiming
The 8mm movie camera
Capturing the moment that would
Otherwise have been lost forever
Like silent laughter
In the New Mexico Summer Sun
my mother’s chancleta
wasn’t footwear -
it was folklore,
a spiritual weapon,
passed down from abuelas
who trained in the mountains
with olympic accuracy.
that chancleta knew geometry -
angles, velocity, wind resistance,
could bend around corners
like it was born with GPS,
could ricochet off walls
with holy precision.
you could sprint down the hallway
like you were running for freedom
and still -
still -
that chancleta would find you
like it remembered your sins
from last week.
my mom never yelled first.
she just lifted her arm slow,
like a priest raising the host,
and the whole apartment held its breath.
we froze,
we repented,
we reconsidered our entire lives
in the span of a heartbeat.
but once that chancleta flew?
ay bendito.
it became prophecy.
there was no ducking,
no hiding behind siblings,
no negotiating with God.
the chancleta chose its target
and justice was served
swift and bilingual.
sometimes we swear
we saw it curve midair,
swerve right,
change direction,
defy physics,
and hit you gently on the shoulder
like it was reminding you,
mira nena, behave.
but after the sting faded,
after the lecture,
after the side-eye of doom,
she’d laugh -
that deep Boricua laugh
that meant we were safe again,
that meant she loved us too much
to let the world teach us harder lessons
than she could.
now, as a mother,
i look at my own chancletas
lining the doorway,
and i swear they vibrate
with ancestral memory -
like they’re ready
if i ever need them.
but i don’t throw them.
instead, i tell the stories:
about my mother,
her perfect aim,
her fierce love disguised
as discipline.
and every time my kids laugh
at the legend of la chancleta,
i feel her hands,
her strength,
her magic -
still teaching,
still protecting,
still flying
in the stories i keep alive.
American citizens, no matter what their occupation,
would love to go overseas for a vacation.
For all those people who have never been out of the country,
obtain a passport and book a flight. There is so much to see.
Go to Europe, Asia, or South America.
For something more exotic, try Australia or Africa.
There are many countries pushing their tourist industry.
Take plenty of cash because they just love our money.
However, before you go, be sure to understand what they say.
Learning to speak their language provides for a better day.
There may be thieves and shysters ripping you off in every way.
They say if you speak two languages, you are bilingual.
If you understand three languages, you are trilingual.
If you speak only one language, you are an American.
Linguistics is needed for each traveling woman and man.
Who are you most longing to become?
How we answer this is different for an ancient rooted tree
than for a recent immigrant
searching for a niche of stable self-sufficiency.
Who we already have become together
feels more important to thriving groves of WiseElders
than to adolescent immigrants
actively learning creolizing bilingual skills
still coming together for survival.
So too, offering Sanctuary,
becoming Sanctuary,
inviting bicameral Sanctuary,
is rooted in Green complex nutrients
for feeding,
and warm wet watering
whispering easier
cozier
more accessible nutrients
for everyone--
but especially appreciated
by more recent emigrants
flowing into a new garden of hospitality,
of multicultural cooperation,
of shared cooperative residence
and patterns of safe,
sometimes exciting, new transport
toward healthiest wealth.
A gardener's intent
to both offer and share sanctuary
may provoke well-nurtured gratitude
in a recent annual immigrant,
but a more sleepy and self-satisfied entitlement
in mature seniority of perennials,
Yet, primordially feeling and speaking,
we are all immigrants newly becoming together
with each new dawn,
and determined to cooperatively rest
in grateful dreams
with each renewing dusk.
Who are we most belonging within
by becoming Green Sanctuary
together?
Some guilds of mutual interest
and investment
invite growing a cooperative sanctuary for food,
fuel,
fiber
Other teams choose cooperatively owned and managed shelter,
gardens,
farms,
transporting cars and trucks
and bikes and horses,
Others focus on cooperatively owned and managed soil,
observing that democratically co-invested compost,
like capital,
fertilizes healthy savings in a nutritional bank
for cooperative food constituents.
And so it goes,
whether Republican or Democrat,
Libertarian or Green,
Who we want to become together
is more cooperatively resilient,
more robustly compassionate
and co-empowering,
so less aloof
alone
smug and self-satisfied
about our competitive win/lose economic
and partisan histories of colonization;
When, truth become remembered,
we are all reborn naked emigrants
and needy immigrants.