Long Essayist Poems

Sharing my translation of a famous poem (Sadharan Meye) written by Rabindranath Tagore, who won Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. It's one of his story-like poems, written in Bengali, which is one of the...

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Back Door Side Door Front Door : Which door might a Confucian take
 
..................for René ETIEMBLE (Jan. 26, 1909 – Jan. 7, 2002)*

In homage - dedicated to the Chair Professor of Comparative Literature
.................at the prestigious...

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Note:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley,  Born 4 August 1792
Horsham, Sussex, England[1]
Died , 8 July 1822 (aged 29)
Gulf of La Spezia, Kingdom of Sardinia (now Italy)
Occupation	Poet, dramatist, essayist, novelist
Alma mater	University College, Oxford (no degree)
Literary movement	Romanticism
Spouse	Harriet Westbrook
(m. 1811;...

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"Angel Eyes" 

that dark angel
standing in the corner
observing the shadows of man 
pass him by -

he has angel eyes

that shine high beam
bright bushfires that light 
the entire transparent 
padded room parade

dance cards lit 
he’s biding...

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“Our being is descending into us from we know not whence. 
The most exact calculator has no prescience that somewhat incalculable 
may not balk the very next moment. I am constrained every moment 
to acknowledge...

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Growth should be the ultimate criterion,
nucleus and kernel of every annual pledge,
for myself and other people who might gain,
from a heartfelt commitment such as mine,
that monumental new year down the clock aptly named,
global village stepping...

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Der Abschied (“The Parting”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We embrace;
my fingers trace
rich cloth
while yours encounter only moth-
eaten fabric.
A quick hug:
you were invited to the gay soiree
while the minions of the "law" relentlessly pursue...

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Or the fate that awaits one at journey’s  end. 
Like all distances I suppose.
My destination if you can call it that  is another world altogether." 
A lady who could structure her sentences with...

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Die Bücherverbrennung ("The Burning of the Books")
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When the Regime
commanded the unlawful books to be burned,
teams of dull oxen hauled huge cartloads to the bonfires.

Then a banished writer, one...

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PAUL VALERY TRANSLATION: “SECRET ODE”

“Secret Ode” is a poem by the French poet Paul Valéry about collapsing after a vigorous dance, watching the sun set, and seeing the immensity of the night sky as the...

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Oh my goodness!

I was just thinking about Erik Erikson,
psychoanalyst and essayist,
and his social analysis thing
about the U.S.
stuck in perpetual competitive
in-grown
culture-ungrown adolescence.

And Erikson suddenly reminded me of one of my dreams last night.

When The Donald
and a...

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Le Problème avec des Blancs – Translation of Jim Everett’s « The White Man Problem » by T. Wignesan

(Jim Everett, Mawbana Pleregannana, b. 1942 on Flinders Island, Tasmania, has had a chequered career and like...

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Delusion and Reference 
(Paranoia) 

Once there was only one, not fun, 
So then this became two, did moo,  
But my mum thought there were two, 
There was her, and then guess who, 
God said...

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PANAGIOTA CHRISTOPOULOU-ZALONI

Poetess, novelist, essayist, painter, 

Editor of literary magazine KELAINO

e-mail: tzina@otenet.gr 

Address: Zaloggou 16, 13231 Petroupoli-Athens-Greece



 



Haiku in English

of Mrs Panagiota Christopoulou-Zaloni



======================= 



Poem and love

With scented thoughts				

Holy Communion



*

Lyres are starting

Divinely are chanting

I feel so happy.



*

Pain...

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Ben Sana Mecburum: “You are indispensable”
by Attila Ilhan
translation by Nurgul Yayman and Michael R. Burch

You are indispensable; how can you not know
that you’re like nails riveting my brain?
I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions.
You are...

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My poem is patterned after John Crowe Ransom's "Blue Girls." I suppose you could call it a parody. His poem appears below mine.


Styling in your leggings, wildly designed,
Strutting to classes in your modern schools— 
While...

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By Izunna Okafor



Oh ye the sun
Why have you been stubborn like son
Consistent in gazing at ground
Endlessly waxing around the town
The ground is as though as husk
But you never consider the gross of dust.

Why have you...

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What a World!


By Izunna Okafor

Tears roll down my cheeks
Beholding the palm tree I tapped 
From his knowledge of blue ink
With a bow, lofting off a huge gap

What a World !

Our intellectuals have all died
And the...

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Friendship: Just Like a Palm Tree 


By Izunna Okafor


From the crusts of lonely loams
It gently roots inner and outer
And softly pullulates harder and taller
To register its purpose to mankind.

Like the trunk, the bond glues harder
To...

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Unprecedented and unannounced
The sound out-hauls the band
The beat of corruption much allowed
Now in dual they posses the land

Who should the finger now highlight
The finger itself is bent and bet
White in the day but black at...

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Die Maske des Bösen (“The Mask of Evil”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A Japanese woodcarving hangs on my wall—
the mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.
Not unsympathetically, I observe
the forehead’s bulging...

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Sonnet: The Ruins of Balaclava
by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, barren Crimean land, these dreary shades
of castles?once your indisputable pride?
are now where ghostly owls and lizards hide
as blackguards arm themselves for nightly...

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Radio Poem
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You, little box, held tightly
to me
during my escape,
so that your delicate tubes do not break;
carried from house to house, from ship to train,
so that my enemies may...

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In the corner
Is my pole star
Light and insight
Never blur
In the corner
Balm they are
For wounds of war


When sun is dark
Empty the park 
In lingering pain
limps the lark
Inside the clock
Hours of shark 
Roads are blocked 
Rooms are...

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Again and Again 

 The profundity of our love is my medium to write 
 about you & your way?

one: Without a comb i wave my hair which you dreamed some time when i think
...

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