Gert Strydom, 24 july 2012
Out of the twilight of the Tsitsikamma-bush
the call of a turaco resounds
where it sits camouflaged olive green
in the fork of a yellowwood tree
and it spreads its crimson wings open wide
before it draws a spark against the sky.
Gert Strydom, 24 july 2012
(after P.W. Buys)
With her light purple breast that gleams
a blue jay descends to the fallow land
where she dances around in sorrow
like a welding flame that impudently trembles
up and down where her nest was
in the burnt out thicket
and now there is only dust and ash
when sadly she leaves screaming sounds
and keeps fluttering to and thro.
[Reference: “Troupant” (Blue Jay) by P.W. Buys.]
Satish Verma, 24 july 2012
Again I would hear the night sounds
through the hours of civilities
when there was a pause in the body
untouchable.
You were sleeping with counterfeits,
running down the golden dome
sailing over the silken clouds.
My rough palm was still holding the pen.
That mirage, that fire on the road
had cheated us. You had pushed me in an
aging portrait. Alive, I am looking at you
from an empty glass.
Satish Verma
Milena Sušnik Falle, 24 july 2012
Prelepa žalost
Prihaja čas,
ko begotni veter zaveje
nad polegle jesenske trave,
nerazdružljiv sopotnik
dolgih deževnih dni
ovitih v meglo,
viharno neučakan pred zidovi
kamnitih zidanic,
kjer najbolje zorijo vina...
Kjerkoli vpijaš vase
jesenski opoj,
bila bi trenutek tvoj,
kjerkoli potuješ
bila bi steza
za tvoje korake;
kjerkoli nosiš žalost na ramenih,
bila bi vedro nebo,
za tvoje oči najlepša modrina...
Prihaja čas
jesenskega navdiha...
... dozorelih sadov,
zoranih brazd,
obranih vinskih trt;
ko leskeče utrinke
v zenici spomina,
ujete v začaran krog,
osvešča neizprosna bolečina...
Wunderschöne Trauer
Es kommt die Zeit,
wenn der flüchtige Wind
über die niedergelegten Herbstgräser weht,
ein unzertrennlicher Reisegefährte
langer in Nebel gehüllter
Regentage,
stürmisch ungeduldig vor den Mauern
der steinernen Winzerhäuschen,
wo die Weine am besten reifen …
Wo immer du den herbstlichen
Rausch in dich aufsaugst,
wär ich gern dein Augenblick,
wo immer du reist,
wär ich gern der Pfad
für deinen Schritte;
wo immer du die Trauer auf den Schultern trägst,
wär ich gern der heitere Himmel,
für deine Augen das schönste Blau …
Es kommt die Zeit
herbstlicher Eingebung …
… gereifter Früchte,
gepflügter Furchen,
abgelesener Weinreben;
wenn die funkelnden Einfälle
in der Pupille der Erinnerung,
gefangen im magischen Kreis,
unerbittlicher Schmerz bewusst macht …
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Tempus fugit - Čas beži)
Milena Sušnik Falle, 23 july 2012
Lep je moj jesenski čas
Lep je
moj jesenski čas,
ustavljen
v srečanju
s seboj,
v zaznanju
mehkobnega sijaja,
položenega vame –
... iz dni ...
v sluh potopljene
barve glasu,
shranjenih koščkov
misli in upov, blažene čutnosti,
... ko je na mojem
tvoj obraz
gorel ...
Lep je
moj jesenski čas,
ranljivo krhek,
samotno dremoten –
... v teh dneh...
raztrgano deljiv,
čudežno sijoč,
vdihnjen trenutkov
negovane preteklosti,
dotaknjen besed
gluhih v tišini molka,
odmaknjen stvarstva;
... pestovan ...
v naročju nostalgije,
za ure hladne zime –
za zapolnjeno vrzel ...
Schön ist meine Herbstzeit
Schön ist
meine Herbstzeit,
zum Stillstand gebracht
in der Begegnung
mit sich selbst,
in der Wahrnehmung
in mich gelegten
weichen Glanzes –
… aus den Tagen …
ins Hören getauchte
Farben der Stimme,
der bewahrten Stückchen
Gedanken und Hoffnungen, seliger Empfindung
… als auf meinem
dein Gesicht
brannte …
Schön ist
meine Herbstzeit,
verwundbar spröde,
einsam düster –
… in diesen Tagen …
zerrissen teilbar,
wundersam leuchtend,
inspiriert von Augenblicken
gehüteter Vergangenheit,
berührt von Worten, die taub sind
in der Stille des Schweigens,
entrückt der Schöpfung;
… gewiegt …
in den Armen der Nostalgie,
für kalte Winterstunden –
für die ausgefüllte Lücke …
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Tempus fugit - Čas beži)
Gert Strydom, 23 july 2012
Maybe you can draw winter
in charcoal grey, without light,
or maybe you can old-fashionably
try to ascribe to a growing pain
or bring an icy kind of view
to the nature of it
or something more intimate and intense
on which mere moments hang.
Gert Strydom, 23 july 2012
The day is icy, grey,
drawn closed, as heavy as lead and wet,
with a southeaster that grabs
that searches for somewhere to hold on to
with bricks, oak trees, razor sharp glass
that is jerked loose in its grip,
with paper bags that are ascending in line
to come down somewhere else in the ocean,
where seagulls continually angrily screech,
are searching for an own escape and continually do curse.
Gert Strydom, 23 july 2012
When winter suddenly comes
year upon year I am caught by it,
when there is an end to growth,
when sudden change in age
strip branches, let’s them hang lonely,
when winter suddenly comes
and it seems as if all of nature is dying,
when you long back to summer,
when there is an end to growth,
when with the ripe every spring flower wilts
and that an end is coming scares you,
when winter suddenly comes
you are astonished by the yellow-brown creeping death,
when even the bright bird songs wither,
when there is an end to growth,
and subtle even death claims its own property,
after years of decline of a life,
when winter suddenly comes,
when there is an end to growth.
Talat Jehan, 23 july 2012
How you will spend your life?
When You will not found me around. .
Old Memories will make you sad. .
The nights will make you cry. .
Even after thousand tries you will not get me back. .
Than you will cry too. .
But you will get nothing, and you will remain empty handed. .
Satish Verma, 23 july 2012
Watching the descent
without god
in an intelligent design.
Come have a look at
our adversary.
The template offers an open hand.
The culture of hunger
in this urbane obscenity
sitting on the payment making a motif.
The giant strode into
the hut to blame the poor
who would not eat his words.
Satish Verma
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