by Aime Cesaire
I have had occasion in the bewilderment of cities to search for the right animal to adore. So I worked my way back to the first times. Undoing cycles untying knots crushing plots removing covers killing hostages I searched.
Ferret. Tapir. Uprooter.
Where where where the animal who warned me of floods
Where where where the bird who led me to honey
Where where where the bird who revealed to me the fountainheads
the memory of great alliances betrayed great friendships lost through our fault exalted me
Where where where
Where where where
The word made vulgar to me
O serpent sumptuous back do you enclose in your sinuous lash the powerful soul of my grandfather?
Greetings to you serpent through whom morning shakes its beautiful mango mauve December chevelure and for whom the milk-invented night tumbles its luminous mice down its wall
Greetings to you serpent grooved like the bottom of the sea and which my heart truly unbinds for us like the premise of the deluge
Greetings to you serpent your reputation is more majestic than their gait and the peace their God gives not you hold supremely.
Serpent delirium and peace
over the hurdles of a scurrilous wind the countryside dismembers for me secrets whose steps resounded at the outlet of the millenary trap of gorges that they tightened to strangulation.
to the trashcan! may they all rot in portraying the banner of a black crow weakening in a beating of white wings.
Serpent
broad and royal disgust overpowering the return in the sands of deception
spindrift nourishing the vain raft of the seagull
in the pale tempest of reassuring silences you the least frail warm yourself
You bathe yourself this side of the most discordant cries on the dreamy spumes of grass
when fire is exhaled from the widow boat that consumes the cape of the echo’s flash
just to make your successive deaths shiver all the more—green frequenting of the elements—your threat.
Your threat yes your threat body issuant from the raucous haze of bitterness where it corrupted the concerned lighthouse keeper and that whistling takes its little gallop time toward the assassin rays of discovery.
Serpent
charming biter of womens’ breasts and through whom death steals into the maturity in the depths of a fruit sole lord lord alone whose multiple image places on the strangler fig’s altar the offering of a chevelure that is an octopodal threat a sagacious hand that does not pardon cowards
Aime Césaire: The Collected Poetry
Copyright ©:
2010. Translated by Clayton Eshleman & A. James Arnold
A few random poems:
- Song by Thomas Carew
- No, Love Is Not Dead by Robert Desnos
- Epigram—The Toad-eater by Robert Burns
- Владимир Маяковский – Слегка нахальные стихи товарищам из ЭМКАХИ
- Валерий Брюсов – Это матовым вечером мая
- Lost Delight
- Robert Burns: Address To Wm. Tytler, Esq., Of Woodhouselee: With an Impression of the Author’s Portrait.
- Rain by Shel Silverstein
- sea.html
- The Mocking Bird by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- Couplet 2 poem – Amir Khusro poems | Poems and Poetry
- Омар Хайям – Что я дружу с вином, не отрицаю, нет
- Scythe Song poem – Andrew Lang poems
- The Motherless Child by William Barnes
- Book Tenth {Residence in France continued] by William Wordsworth
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: Behold, My Love, How Green The Groves:
- Robert Burns: The Winter Of Life:
- Robert Burns: The Lover’s Morning Salute To His Mistress:
- Robert Burns: Inconstancy In Love:
- Robert Burns: How Lang And Dreary Is The Night:
- Robert Burns: Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly:
- Robert Burns: Esteem For Chloris:
- Robert Burns: Pretty Peg:
- Robert Burns: On Andrew Turner:
- Robert Burns: On An Innkeeper Nicknamed “The Marquis”:
- Robert Burns: On A Swearing Coxcomb:
- Robert Burns: On A Suicide:
- Robert Burns: On Hearing It Asserted Falsehood: is expressed in the Rev. Dr. Babington’s very looks.
- Robert Burns: On Being Shewn A Beautiful Country Seat : Belonging to the same Laird [not quite so wise as Solomon].
- Robert Burns: Epigram On A Country Laird,: not quite so wise as Solomon.
- Robert Burns: On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico:
- Robert Burns: On Chloris: Requesting me to give her a Spring of Blossomed Thorn.
- Robert Burns: To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J-N: On her Principles of Liberty and Equality.
- Robert Burns: To Dr. Maxwell: On Miss Jessy Staig’s recovery.
- Robert Burns: She Says She Loes Me Best Of A’:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works