Sunday, March 31, 2019

Affirmative Action

- Pádraig Ó Tuama, readings from the book of exile

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

A n d i s n' t i t t r u e f o r a l l o f u s

-  Pádraig Ó Tuama, Sorry for your troubles 


Emergence by Neha 

What if spring is all
the people we have lost?
Rising from the dead
from memories
from the soils
of unforgotten
in new bodies,
by chirping
bird songs
at dawn.

- Neha


Held by Neha 
Of the gardens of Adonis, Lydia, I love
Most of all those fugitive roses
         That on the day they are born,
         That very day, must also die.
Eternal, for them, the light of day:
They're born when the sun is already high
         And die before Apollo's course

         Across the visible sky is run.
We too, of our lives, must make one day:
We never know, my Lydia, nor want
        To know of nights before or after
        The little while that we may last.
To be great, be whole: nothing that's you
         Should you exaggerate or exclude.
In each thing, be all. Give all you are
         In the least you ever do.
The whole moon, because it rides so high,
         Is reflected in each pool.

- Ricardo Reis ( Fernando Pessoa), Translated by Edouard Roditi


Signs by Neha
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
taking our feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
thank you we are saying and waving
dark though it is

- W.S.Merwin, Migration: New and Selected Poems, Copper Canyon Press, 2005