Long Translator Poems
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“Mom, they called my name I won.”
“Mijo, estoy tan orgullosa de ti, qué bendición.”
Her voice lifts when I tell her.
Like music in a language they don’t teach in school.
At the store, at school, at the doctor’s front desk
I become her mouth. I become her ears.
They ask her questions she can't answer.
I step in, twelve years old, speaking like a grown-up.
They see her silence,
but her voice resonates
a melody in a language unspoken.
Sometimes I wish they could hear
the wisdom she holds
in every word.
Well, this is my life.
And I’m happy.
But it’s a struggle too
being the voice for someone
who gave up hers for you.
But now
she orders at restaurants,
chats with my teachers,
says “thank you” without looking down.
She found her voice.
And I helped her build it.
Now we speak
side by side.
20.5
“Where is the doer or enjoyer?
Where is the origin or end of thought?
Where is direct or reflected knowledge?
There is no person here”
Verse revisited on 07-October-2022
Hirayangarbha, cosmic egg, the womb of existence
The one splits becoming two, borne of heart's insistence
Maya spins a web of cosmic illusion, within which we descend
Origin forgotten, soul needs to transcend space and time to ascend
Ensouling mind-body, the ego is created as an earth life interface
Memory erased, we become a doer, relying not on God's grace
Bemused by myriad illusions, we're plunged into delusion
With head and heart misaligned, arises deep confusion
We create thereby by our own hand, cause and effect
A destiny dark; we're the cause but don't suspect
Given this preamble, we may now so analyse
That since ego is false, it's futile to weigh and size
Thought’s but an instrument to be used when needed
Fears and desires by ego spawned, require to be weeded
All this is attained effortlessly by shifting into tranquil stillness
As the false falls away, restored. is soul's innate wellness
Within our body, the Holy Spirit ignites feeble form
Our false identity is swept away in a bliss storm
One that became two again becomes one
Luminosity of the central spiritual sun
Doubts disappear as we become the answer
Requiring thereafter and forever no translator
How I long for the days of yore when telephone communication,
Was with a living, breathing mortal in meaningful conversation!
Nowadays, when conducting business, much too often I hear,
A mechanical voice spewing perplexing babble in my weary ear!
First, I listen to a litany of their days and hours of operation!
A spiel about their products and a history of the organization!
"Your call will be taken in the order in which it was received!"
Already, I've waited twenty minutes - I feel I've been deceived!
I hear that hollow voice again but much to my chagrin,
The dreaded 'Press This Number' game is about to begin!
Having been offered many options, at that vacuous voice I shout!
I become so irate I hardly remember what I was calling about!
"Press One if you are a new customer -Two if you have an account;
Press Three if you need repair service - Four for a bank discount;
Press Five to pay your bill - Press Six to change your address!"
Lord, I'm losing patience! Help me out of this miserable mess!
On and on it goes ad infinitum like some Gregorian chant!
I'd like to talk to a representative but it seems that I can't!
Ah! At last! A person is on the line but I'll need a translator.
Alas, it's some guy talking funny on the other side of the equator!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Tied for No. 7 in Natalie Fllikkema's "Talkin' Technology" Contest - July 2011
shifting sands of time, highlighted by desires that chime
have manifested reincarnated forms for my delight
foiled by egos misalignment with divine sublime
myriad hypnotic illusions became my plight
as blurred horizons kept shifting out of my reach
so I took the easy path, knowing not wrong from right
finally exhausted thus in cyclic joy and pain, God I did beseech
He quickly hastened to respond, to lessen my deep grief
‘love alone real, go in, within, I Am in easy reach’
this telepathic message changed my belief
internalising attention, void of silence my meditation
blissful tranquil calm enveloped mind body, providing relief
fulcrum shift within, joyous bliss elation became my orientation
wherein as eye of the storm, I remained poised in stillness
time stretched continuum of divine vivified cessation
separateness shifting to interconnectedness
forest of my dreams became a symphony of colour
layer by layer deepening connectedness with That oneness
fear laced desires and questions ceased, as I became the answer
requiring hereinafter, now and for all eternity, save God, no translator
13-April-2021
In the forest of my dreams poetry contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
conveyed within
their small larger other worlds
notes upon notes, heady notes,
their subtle infractions
like music tinkling through
the brain bleeds, poets
and their otherworldly refrains,
naphthalene aired for old time’s sake
shaken out like clean crisp white sheets
billowing in the translucent lingerie breeze,
bedrocks shaken
the little flocks
small black murders flying
provocatively erratic stirred up
off the cobalt page
into an evocative
higher wider
elusive space
taken shockingly aback
where the heady blast
of Spirit of Hartshorn
shakes buried lover’s awake
to walk barefoot and naked
blindly in love
touching each other
through the long wet days
sugar-coated addictions
tall poppies crimson pimpernels
wading nubile through blades
of silver moon grass
licking their ankles and heels
raising their prim outskirts,
forbidden territories
within the rising mist,
the ever present,
like a breeze,
kisses their ripe
cherry orchards
unending hunger
satiated, all is manna
as they meander
through daze of
dusky dawn valleys
those garden of eden thighs,
the transparent,
slithering like hands
caressing treasure trunks
ivy leaves for plucking
further up above
the high waists
to touch what
wastes away, unheard,
what beats there,
where the crown sits
like some holy being
under its ribbed cage
red ripe like a seeded apple,
that place, just there, beating
singing some kind of hymn,
like a regulated anthem,
they're way up into their feels
like some devilish chase
like heaven's come
calling them away
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
some things are better
left unsaid
like this Magdalene,
K.I.S.S.
Candide Diderot. ‘24
For the benefit of any non-Middle-English
speakers, a literal, word-for-word translation
has been provided beneath each line of
the original:
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote!
When we've already had enough! of April showers
Whan priketh hem Governeur in oure corages
Our prick of a governor locks us down in our garages
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
Ha, ha! Our goon squads are itching to go on barrages
And smale fowles maken melodye
And assault thine ears with foul-mouthed serenades
That slepen al the night with open ye
'Twill fershloft three far aye with mnemonic charades
~ A special thanks to Middle English translator, Barry Kanter
I have no idea what compelled me
To wonder what my future held
The craze about finding my tomorrows
To view delivers meld
So I decided to decipher my wants
To a Highland Seer I went
The desire to dispel my haunts
Kawasaki 500 sent
v
Sit down and close your eyes
Put your palms on the table
Whilst I shuffle your future be
And allow the cards to enable
.
Silence befell my ears
Thrilled, he spoke about my past
All through my childhood years
To be honest, I'm left aghast
v
He smiled at me as he wrote
Requesting I read it later
He wished me on my journey
This Seer, my future translator
Good evening, from the Highlands News
As we report on a roadside crash
A Kawasaki 500, has left the road
An Ambulance in Emergency dash
To the Hospital the News Crew followed
Having caught up in this saddened case
They were told of what was told inside
In tear fear fold explained
In pain, he whispers into the Paramedics ear
Please read this letter to me
On the opening of the envelope
There were no words to read
.
Senses five externalised
Analytical mind, objects sized
Yet power of reason, now our prison
Life whizzes by, too late at death we wisen
Recognising that we are not mind-body
We are divine, on earth for study
Learning love alone as real
Gods pulse that heals
Alive and aglow in our heart
As bliss ignition therein does start
Current innate to which we are oblivious
With narrow ego wielding baton of awareness
Thus no sooner we rest fear and desire
Love, the fire for which we aspire
We be to become the answer
Requiring no translator
As Gods essence luminous
The magic we weave fortuitous
Transcending beliefs and limitations
Co-creating manifestation by resonation
Voids within form do fill as divine bliss overspills
Hollow mind body vessel, vassal of Gods will
Readying us thus for our true life purpose
Singing our verse, with love in chorus
All that that is, enigmatic beauty
Bliss renewal in continuity
14-May-2021
color awe
so crystal as to hear an
enigma
whiffed fragrance
a strangeness to scarcely taste
obscure scenes
light is sown
feel the warmth that follows miles
minds do smile
-----------------------
"An individual whose conscious awareness is such that a sound becomes fused with a sense of color and taste; for whom each fleeting impression engenders a vivid, inextinguishable image; for whom words have quite different meanings than they do for us—such a person cannot mature in the same way others do, nor will his inner world, his life history tend to be like others'."
from:
Luria, A. R. & Solotaroff, Lynn (translator) (1968) The mind of a mnemonist: a little book about a vast memory. Jonathan Cape
15.8
“Have faith, my son, have faith
You are Awareness alone
the Self, the One
You are the Lord of Nature”
15.9
“The body is made of worldly stuff
It comes, it lingers, it goes
The Self neither comes nor goes, yet remains
Why mourn the body?”
15.10
“If the body lasts until the end of time
or perishes today—
is there gain or loss for you?
You who are Awareness?”
15.11
“Let the waves of the universe rise and fall as they will
You have nothing to gain or lose
You are the ocean”
15.12
“You are the substance of Consciousness
The world is You
Who is it that thinks
he can accept or reject it?
And where does he stand?”
15.15
“Leave behind such distinctions
as “I am He, the Self,”
and “I am not this.”
Consider everything Self
Be desireless
Be happy”
15.16
“Your ignorance alone creates the universe
In reality One alone exists
There is no person or god other than You”
15.17
“One who knows for certain
that the universe is illusion,
a no-thing,
becomes desireless,
pure Awareness,
and finds peace in the existence of nothing”
The zone of deep silence
Beyond mind
Presence in self existence
Formless space aligned
(21-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verses revisited on 02-December-2021
Let’s begin then, by exiting self-hypnosis
Enslavement to lower mind
Melding mind, soul, spirit, Perichoresis
Exiting narrow thoughts that bind
Our innate aliveness, where is it located
Is it in the head or the heart
Desire enmeshed thought, has us agitated
Until we add love to cart
Head and heart meld, in a stillness continuum
Devoid of thought, fears and desires recede
There remains in mind-body, no ego residuum
Layer by layer, erst habit patterns we weed
There is no thought, yet our awareness remains
Poised in the void in childlike wonderment
Soul cleansed of feral stains, measuring not gains
Magnetised, reveals innate essence luminescent
We may call this Holy Spirit, kundalini or grace
There is no one now within, to assign any label
In timeless time, we may see God face to face
Inner alignment being all it takes for this miracle
Becoming the answer, we need no translator
Yet the light that already is, we cannot transmit
Ceasing to be a doer, as a humble receptor
Know God in-dwells all, when we cease to resist