Long Translated Poems
Long Translated Poems. Below are the most popular long Translated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Translated poems by poem length and keyword.
How long can Mankind's world perform
Without a common language norm?
This world that many tongues divide
To satisfy some primal pride
But cannot, in a global sense,
Dispel mistrust and ignorance.
While every tongue should be revered
For its own worth - its place endeared
Within its context each embraced,
Its local, native, customs traced -
We still need one tongue which should be
Developed interactively.
But now the many languages
Our history encourages
Reflect the man-made boundaries
Of geographic destinies
With self-protecting vanities:
Racial, ethnic conformities.
A spoken, written common base
That can be practiced face-to-face -
To share our thoughts and hopes and fears -
To discuss freely peer to peer,
Not translated through others' voice
Or speaking through selective choice.
One common language taught with care
To people living everywhere -
To help nuture a stable world
That all can share - and well deserved
That gives a sense of worldwide pride:
A common language to provide.
What are mental aberrations when in a deep state of meditation by focusing on rejecting all thoughts and senses, and allowing the body to exist autonomously?
To call them visions is to purely describe the minimalistic tangible visual evidence of the experience without regard to meaning and other sensual possibilities. In Genesis 40 of the Bible, Joseph was able to extract meaning from the visions of the baker and cupbearer while they share the same prison. The two men were unable to understand, as they were passively experiencing the visions.
However, to be your own Joseph would require an active experience of these visions. Is this possible? It is if you are actively receiving while in a state of nothingness.
All conflicts must be removed, including the anticipation and understanding of the origin of such experiences. Only when you profoundly receive clarity of understanding may you know their origin. Is the experience from God, Satan, you, someone, or something?
Theologists call this activity being in a state of prayer, or is it? What would you call it?
Now that you are on the Path of Kabir, what truths will you find?
Where spring, the lord of seasons reigneth, there the unstruck music sounds of itself,
There the streams of light flow in all directions, few are the men who can cross to that shore!
There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded,
Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads, where millions of Brahmas are reading the Vedas,
Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation, where millions of Indras dwell in the sky,
Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered, where millions of Saraswatis, goddess of music play the vina,
There is my Lord self-revealed, and the scent of sandal and flowers dwells in those deeps.
—?Kabir, II.57, Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
by,
Martin Braun
3/17/2020
Parents are very fierce on expectations by holding the rod....
they mean well, but they crush or ignore their teens' wishes;
not all are meant for professional careers, others choose trades
to express themselves in the best ways they know how.
My dad wanted me to be an aircraft engineer,
but I rebelled and chose a writing career;
I disappointed him a lot by disobeying...
but as much as I love airplanes, I prefer writing.
I envision those airplanes as thoughts traveling through space on floating clouds,
and they are lovely indeed...like the fearless birds flying past the hazy horizon;
I wonder how any pilot finds the courage to fly them without looking down...
I peaked through that window: all I saw was a blue Earth with majestic mountains.
Being a writer is not a guaranteed profession, or a tale from rags to riches...
its the happiest one, but it's full of personal satisfaction and self esteem;
there's none like it, and on that expectation, I've built my childhood long dream,
but the biggest thrill of all is to see your words translated in many languages.
Sadly, my dad passed away and his bitterness I recall with pain;
it wasn't an act of disobedience, but a matter of choice, or even worthiness,
and the choice of one's heart always seems to be the right one!
Can anyone among you see my refusal as betrayal, or a desire for greatness?
You could run an eternity through shadows,
Run an era in dim labyrinths,
Time might hide you in its palm.
But sooner or later, you will meet the Judge,
Sooner or later, the Divine will find you in descent.
Go and tell the long-path liar,
Bring the news to the rider who revives at midnight,
Speak to the wanderer, the lover of chance, the one who whispers venom,
Tell them the Cutter of fates will end their journey,
Tell them the Supreme Silence will stifle their word.
Well, with goodwill, I share this stellar news,
My head has been sprinkled with the dew of the night sky,
I've crouched down in prayer,
Conversing with the Man from silvery Galilee.
He spoke to me with a voice that sweetly translated eternity,
I believed I heard the orderly step of angels,
He pronounced my name, and my heart stopped in anticipation,
When He said, "Take My path and do what the fates demand!"
Go and unravel the one with the forked tongue,
Carry the news across the starry field to the rider who roams at night,
Demolish the story of the one who walks restlessly,
Tell them the heavenly harvest prepares their fall,
Tell them their time of reckoning will come, under God's wing.
You could flee through countless times and ages,
Get lost in your flight through salted centuries,
No abyss could save you in an endless time.
Sooner or later, we all will align with the Law,
Sooner or later, we will pass before Him.
You can throw the stone and hide your hand,
Work in the darkness of the night against your fellow like a phantom,
But as surely as night unravels at dawn,
All that wanders in dark obscurity will soon come to light.
You can plunge into long races and cling to a shadow,
You can thrash through galaxies and build yourself in silence.
But sooner or later, Someone will tally your days,
Sooner or later, the Great Light will cut your flight short.
Bring this remedy to the one who serves lies,
Bring the word to the rider who roams and undermines at midnight,
Narrate the truth to the one who sees only play in luck,
Tell them the Weaver of Fate has counted their moments,
Tell them the Keeper of Balance will bring them silence.
Aphrodite, immortal, enthroned in wonder,
Sky-daughter, webstress of love schemes, I entreat you
not to break my spirit with pangs of anguish,
Queen, Lady, Mother,
but now come to me, if in the past you ever
also heeded me when I cried from afar, and,
leaving behind the golden house of your father
Zeus, you descended
borne in a chariot yoked to a flock of lovely
sparrows flying fast over earth’s black richness,
thickly fluttering wings leading you a passage
through bright mid-heaven,
soon arriving, and you, O supreme in blessing,
eternity’s smile gleaming from your expression,
asked me now this time what again I suffered,
what did I pray for,
what beyond all else I would want to happen
with all my love-maddened heart: “Who now needs persuasion
to be led back to your affection? Who is it,
Sappho, who hurts you?
Though she now may run, she will soon pursue you;
now she may spurn gifts, but she soon will give them;
now she feels no love, but she soon will feel it,
even unwilling.”
Come to me this time again: act as my deliveress
from this mastering pain, and, as the fulfiller
of everything that my passion hopes for, take your
stand as my ally.
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— translated from the Greek by Jon Corelis
The YouTube video is my musical setting of this poem performed by Beth Ratay.
This is the THIRD AND FINAL PART of the poem - translated from Rabindranath Tagore's "NISKRITI".
Leaving all embarrassment and diffidence,
the daughter spoke without hesitation,
to the father,
"We hear you are going to get married.
We, all your children and grandsons and granddaughters -
you are going to humiliate all of us?
You are going to forget our mother?
You are so heartless? "
Father smiled a dry smile, and said
"Everybody knows I am hard!
It is very difficult for me to get re-married,
But household duties
remain incomplete without a wife -
All scriptures - from Monu to Mahabharat will support that.
The path of religion is not easy.
It's not only shedding tears from our hearts,
The person who is afraid of accepting sorrow, and causing sorrow,
Why does that coward come to the earth? "
The bride's paternal home is in Bakhargunj,
The groom went there,
a few days before the wedding.
At last when came back with a wife
to his own home,
Manjulika wasn't there.
Learned from reading a letter
Pulin married her,
and they left for Farakkabad,
decided to settle there.
Father was furious,
And cursed them again and again.
Translated By: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Please look for my other translations from Tagore - they are all posted on my page, the links are attached to my biography.
This book contains the solving of the paradox.
It was found with keys and locks in a stone chamber.
The lid took an age to remove.
The text is very fine, high. Not human written.
Its language alien, translated into that of early Earth,
first civilization speech.
Its scribe, perhaps humorously,
describes itself as a bird.
Its plan to fly away once its task is done.
Scholars would admire it for its poetry only.
Attempt to locate its author in some pre-Biblical time,
somewhere in what became Sumeria.
Its first words I quote:
Book bird wrote. Begin.
From land crane cry, from oceans whale song,
wind and silence else.
Creation seems simple till the mind attends to itself,
considers the rope riddle, craves its untanglement.
My word path the paradox will present and solve.
In a hut on stilts, above marsh reed and water, I write.
It goes on so, for many pages.
The book is silence made solid.
It disturbs, excites, like thunder,
more searing to the soul than inferno's gate,
holds the fear of shoreless ocean,
when open, no secrets then.
Source: Philip Dodd, Myth Poems / Art on Myths & Fairy Tales FB.
Form:
i
The women tell me, “Man, you’re old;
don’t be so bold.
Look into a mirror
to make it clearer:
your hair
ain’t there.”
But I can’t see what lies
above my eyes.
I do see more reason to play the game,
when Death takes aim.
ii
If wealth with all its money
could make us never die,
I'd give my life to earning,
and then, when Death came by,
I'd pay him and forget him.
But there’s no way to spend
yourself into forever.
So since my life must end,
what good does money do me,
or why then should I mourn
the certainty of dying,
which comes with being born?
My riches are in friendship
and drinking wine at ease,
and moon-lit celebrations
of Love’s solemnities.
iii
Old Gyges had a ton of gold
when he was Asia’s king;
his treasure houses leave me cold,
I don’t grudge him a thing.
What counts with me is scented hair,
rose garlands, and today;
so let’s drink while the weather’s fair:
tomorrow’s far away.
— from the Greek
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The poems are selected from the Anacreontea, a collection of anonymous Greek poems written in later antiquity in the style of the earlier Greek poet Anacreon.
Please note that this translation is Copyright 2026 by me, even though it is being translated from a text that is in the public domain in its original language.
Please note that I never have used and never will use AI to compose or revise any of my writings.
A random comment on poetry in general: A poem is self-expression, but the self a successful poem expresses is that of the reader, not that of the writer.
In the nicest way possible...
One lifetime
(Carpe diem the hell out of your life)
By Michelle Morris
29/12/2023
I don't care what inspires you
But I do hope that it's something good
So please make the decision today
To carpe diem the hell out of your life
Don't wait for another year
Don't wait for another decade
We live in magical times
We live with chaos and uncertainty
Let it be your mantra
Hell, let it be your warcry
Be courageous and outrageous
Because you only have one lifetime
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Carpe diem: a phrase that comes from the Roman poet Horace. It literally means "Pluck the day"; though it's usually translated as "Seize the day".
Even now, Pigeons stool surprised
while ensconced in dovecote
whose twittering translated as coo coo not bright
asper Icarus aiming for mythic cull magic did excite
popularized notion to take winged flight
And for twenty first century mortal to wax poetic
this January 2018 bitterly, brutally day and night
Stymied sans principle
contradicted laws of Physics
soaring to limitless height
Away from temporal axon light
Into the infinite cosmic dendrite
Realization to soar above heavenly vault
spectacular sight
Brainchild of anonymous genius minds
left stratospheric legacy
To witness awesome might
break away, sans gravity
tacit Obeisance acknowledged
this hundred year plus anniversary
Aero planes success got off the ground
Pardon saying may come across as trite
More than a century elapsed
since machines first attempt to remain aloft
Man made invention glittered silvery white
Beauty, grace and poetry in motion
excises Luddite trace
Despite countless fatal crashes
Tragedy to those loved ones lost in fiery plight
Invisible ethereal essences dwell
and hover some place
Occupy a netherworld housed
with fellow nymph and sprite
Return to Earth to deliver miracles
and prevent near disasters
Although many a skeptic
may ascribe phenomena to luck despite
Angelic visage impossible to dispute quite.