Leander Sukov (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 

Die fremde Mutter

Leander Sukov

an jedem ersten tag eines monats
gegen sechs uhr am abend
kam die alte frau
kittelbeschürzt, filzpantoffeln
kopftuch und strickjacke
in die kneipe
trat zum tresen
fragte ob ich ihren sohn
gesehen hätte
und es verstummten die gespräche
ganz leis' wurd' es da.
ich antwortete abschlägig.
sie trug mir auf ihm
käme er noch
zu sagen, er solle sich eilen
das essen stünde auf dem tisch bald
und er wäre hungrig bestimmt.
dann ging sie.
es blieb lange leis'
niemand sprach.
der auf den sie wartete war tot
seit zwanzig jahren.
an jedem ersten tag eines monats
gegen sechs uhr am abend
kam die alte frau
kittebeschürzt, filzpantoffeln.

An Mháthair Strainséartha

Leander Sukov

Ar an gcéad lá de gach mí
thart ar a sé a chlog um thráthnóna
thagadh an tseanbhean
isteach sa phub,
naprún uirthi, slipéir feilte,
caifirín agus cairdeagan,
ina seasamh ag an mbeár,
ag fiafraí díom an bhfaca mé a mac,
agus stopadh an comhrá
tost.
Ní fhaca mé é.
Má thagann sé, ar sise,
abair leis brostú abhaile,
is gearr go mbeadh dinnéar ar an mbord,
ba cheart go mbeadh an-ocras air.
D'imíodh sí ansin.
Bhíodh sé an-chiúin ansin ar feadh i bhfad,
gan gíocs as éinne.
An té a raibh sí ag feitheamh leis
i gcré na cille le scór bliain anuas.
Ar an gcéad lá de gach mí
thart ar a sé a chlog um thráthnóna
thagadh an tseanbhean
isteach sa phub, naprún uirthi, slipéir feilte

Mazisi Kunene (Poets of the Planet)

Poems by Mazisi Kunene,

translated from the isiZulu by Vusi Mchunu.
Irish-language transcreation and recording by Gabriel Rosenstock
 

Gáire i measc na mBocht

Ná ceapadh an taoiseach gur lúcháir
Atá i ngáire na mbocht
Aoir atá sa gháire chun cora crua an tsaoil a shárú
Dearúd a dhéanamh ar an nganntan is ar an ngátar
 

Laughter amongst the poor

 The ruler should not fool himself
And see the laughter of the poor to mean joy
For laughter is satire to transcend harsh reality
And to forget want and need and lack of wealth
 

Uhleko alufani

 Angazikhohlisi yena obusayo
Athi wena unjengaye ngokuba uyahleka uyajabula
Uhleka noma umpofu ehleke nasekuhluphekeni
Ke ukuba wena kawunangcebo engangeyakhe
 

An lá a cailleadh mo mháthair

Tamaillín roimh éirí na gréine
Nuair a chonaic mé an t-éan ag dul go hardaitheach sa
spéir
Deabhadh uirthi siar
Thuigeas-sa ag an nóiméad sin
Go rabhais-se–an droim daingean a d’iompraíodh mé–
Ar shlí na fírinne. Sall a d’imís
 
 

The day mother passed on

It was shortly before sunrise
When I saw the bird soaring through the sky
Hastening in flight to the west
And I knew at that moment
That you, you the firm back that carried me
You have passed on. You have crossed further on
 

Usuku lukamame

Ekuseni ilanga lingakaphumi
Ngabona inyoni ngayibona idabula amazulu
Ngabona yona ilibangise eNtshonalanga
Ngase ngazi ngawo lowo mzuzwana
Wena, wena mhlane wami omuhle obungibeletha
Usudlulile usuwemukile wemukela phambili
 
 
 

Im’ Cheap Magaidh ag Cách

 Mhaígh an té ar theastaigh uaidh dochar a dhéanamh dom
Go réiteodh sé gaiste romham i gclais.
Agus lá éigin go mbeinnse gafa i mo dhaor aige
Céasfar mé ag na súile a bheidh ag dul thar bráid
Im’ cheap magaidh ag cách, agus déarfaidh siad
“Cad sa diabhal a bhí ar siúl aige,
Nár thuig sé go gcaithfidh an té atá lag a bheith aireach
Agus gan a bheith ag siúl thart i dtaibhreamh na súl
oscailte!”
 

Mocked by the living

 The one who meant to harm me
Boasted that he will set a trap in a pit for me
And one day, he would catch and enslave me
And I will be tortured by the stares of passersby
I will be mocked by the living, saying
“What did he think he was doing,
Did he not know that the weak should be wary
That they may never walk as in a daydream!”
 

Isibhinqo sabaphilayo

 Yena lowo ongicuphileyo
Wathi ngiyongena phakathi komwowane
Ngingene ngingazelele ngize ngibe ngowakhe
Kube ngamehlo abadlula ngendlela
Wona asayakungibhinqa athi,
”Yena ubethi wenzani
Ke ngokuba lowo ongakwazi ukuvika
Akahambi ebheke phezulu!”
 
 

Muiscít a raibh ocras uirthi

 Tráthnóna amháin bhí rud éigin ag bogadh sa dorchadas
Amach liom. Chuas go dtí an réiteach
Ansin chuala mé muiscít do mo leanúint
D’fhiafraíos di cad a bhí uaithi
Tá ocras orm, arsa an mhuiscít, tá do chuid aibhneacha
dearga uaim
Ligeas di ól asam agus dúrt léi éirí as nuair a bheadh a
sáith ólta aici
“Ól do dhóthain anois, agus fág braon don chuid eile!”
 
 

The hungry mosquito

 One evening I saw movement in the dark
I went outside, I went to the opening
Then I heard a mosquito following me
I asked what he wanted from me
Mosquito said she is hungry, hungry for my red rivers
I allowed it to drink, telling it to stop when full
“Drink your fill, and leave something for others!”
 
 

Umiyane owawulambileyo

 Ebusuku ngabona ubusuku bunyakaza
Ngaphumela phandle ngaphumela ebaleni
Ngase ngizwa umiyane owawungilandela
Ngaze ngathi kuwo ngabe ufunani kimi
Wathi, ngilambile ngilambele imifula yakho
Ngase ngiwudedela ngase ngiwukhuza ususuthi
Sengithi phuza phela ushiyele abanye
 
 

"I did not choose to write in Zulu; I did not have to make a decision. In my tradition, you are actually inhabited by the spirits on your shoulders and they tell you what to do, what to say."
                                 Mazisi Kunene, Southern African Review of Books, 1993

ÁLVARO MATA GUILLÉ (Poets of the Planet)

 Poet. Born in Costa Rica.

•     Frequent guest at festivals, poetry meetings or book fairs, where he has held literary workshops, recitals, talks, conferences, as well as published in various newspapers and magazines around the world.
•     Columnist of cultural and political criticism, in the magazine Libros y Letras, Literary Magazine of Colombia and Latin America.
•     Director of the International Poetry Festival En el Lugar de los Escudos (Mexico), which will be held for the ninth time in May 2024.
•     Some of his books: Scenes of an Afternoon (Costa Rica); Beneath the Wind (Venezuela, Argentina); Beyond the Mist (Mexico); Osip (Spain); A Country without a Name (Mexico).
•     Upcoming publications: About the Fragments (poetry, Colombia); The Individual in the Shadow (essay, Mexico).
•     His texts have been translated into English, French, Italian, Portuguese, Macedonian, Arabic, Bengali, Aymara, Greek, Vietnamese, Polish, Russian, Mandarin, and Korean.
•     He was director of the International Liberty and Poetry Symposium (Costa Rica 1998-2005).
•     In charge of the literature area of the International Arts Festival (Costa Rica, 2001-2003).
•     He was a member of the editorial board and editorial secretary of K Magazine 2007-2010 (Mexico City).
•     Others:
•     Walls of Timid Brilliance, choreography by the group Diquis Tíquis, based on the poem Triptych. National Dance Award, 1993, Costa Rica.
•     Altered States, UNA Chamber Dance Company, based on the poem Solveit. National Dance Award, 2016, Costa Rica.
•     Beyond the Mist, based on the book of the same name, winner of the IBERESCENA Fund (Ibero-American Performing Arts), Costa Rica-Colombia-Mexico co-production, 2023.

«¿Será posible que yo exista realmente,
y que la muerte verdadera llegue?»
se preguntaba Ósip Mandelstam,
en un texto transcrito,
no se sabe por quién,
tampoco cuándo,
en una de las paredes del reclusorio,
bañadas por un sol negro,
en espera de la noche,
de las fosas

“Is it possible that I really exist,
and that true death comes?”
Ósip Mandelstam would ask himself,
in a transcribed text,
no one knows by whom,
nor when,
on one of the walls of the prison,
drenched by a black sun,
awaiting the night,
of the graves

"An fíor go bhfuilimse ann dáiríre
agus go dtagann an bás cinnte?"
ceist a chuir Ósip Mandelstam air féin,
i dtéacs tras-scríofa,
ní fios cé a dhein,
ná cathain,
ar bhalla de bhallaí an phríosúin,
báite ag grian dhubh,
ag feitheamh le hoíche
na n-uaigheanna

Kon Markogiannis (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 Kon Markogiannis is an existential poet, experimental photographer, collage artist, independent researcher and spiritual seeker with an interest in themes such as memory, mortality, spirituality, the human condition, the exploration of the human psyche and the evolution of consciousness. He sees his work as a kind of weapon against the ephemeral or, as Vilém Flusser would say (Towards a Philosophy of Photography), a “hunt for new states of things”. Kon has been exhibiting his art for many years (mainly in Greece and the UK) and his writings have been featured in various books, journals and magazines. His university studies include a BA in Visual Communication Design, an MA in Photography and a doctorate in Fine Art. He currently lives and works in Thessaloniki, Greece.
Books: Ίσως ο Θάνατος (Greek poetry), Ίχνη Φωτός (Greek poetry), Angelic Flights (poetry in Irish-Greek-Japanese, collaboration with Gabriel Rosenstock, Sarah Thilykou and Maki Starfield), Dysturban (photobook).

the 12 phobias

1.
I’m afraid
of tomorrow
today
yesterday

2.
I’m afraid
to live
afraid
to die

3.
I’m afraid
I won’t wake up
from the lethargy
of existence

4.
I’m afraid
of dreams
which haunt
my waking hours

5.
I’m afraid
to look
at my own
self

6.
I’m afraid
of my thoughts
my desires
my shadow

7.
I’m afraid
of the beast
which lives
within my gut

8.
I’m afraid
of nothingness
emptiness
and zeroness

9.
I’m afraid
of the darkness
which lies
inside me

10.
I’m afraid
I may be reborn
and repeat
the same mistakes

11.
I’m afraid
but I do not know
why I should
be afraid

12.
I’m afraid
I might find
that fear
does not exist

 an dá fhóibe dhéag  

1.
Tá eagla orm roimh
an lá amárach
an lá inniu
an lá inné
 
2.
Tá eagla orm
roimh an mbeatha
eagla orm
roimh an mbás
 
3.
Tá eagla orm
nach ndúiseod
as spadántacht
an tsaoil
 
4.
Tá eagla orm
roimh bhrionglóidí
a chéasann mé
is mé im’ dhúiseacht
 
5.
Tá eagla orm
breathnú
orm
féin
 
6.
Tá eagla orm
roimh mo chuid smaointe
mo mhianta
mo scáil
 
7.
Tá eagla orm
roimh an mbrúid
a chónaíonn
i m’ionathar
 
 8.
Tá eagla orm
roimh neamhní
roimh an bhfolús
roimh nialas
 
9.
Tá eagla orm
roimh an dorchadas
atá
istigh ionam
 
10.
Tá eagla orm
go n-athshaolófaí mé
is na dearmaid chéanna
a dhéanamh arís
 
11.
Tá eagla orm
ach níl a fhios agam
cén fáth a mbeadh
eagla orm
 
12.
Tá eagla orm
go bhfaighinn amach
nach ann
don eagla

---

Haiku in four languages.

ANGELIC FLIGHTS is a collection of haiku written originally in Irish (Gaelic) by Gabriel Rosenstock, translated into English by the poet, Greek transcreation by Sarah Thilykou, and Japanese transcreation by Maki Starfield), and photographically complemented by Kon Markogiannis.

"These glimpses caught in words or images are each so weightless and so shifting that you could think they have no substance...that is, until the moment when like curling smoke and light they touch each other in the darkness, and a bright perception takes form, looks back at us, comes alive."

Philip Gross

"The exquisite fusion of image and word renders a deeply satisfying aesthetic experience, whereby we are transmuted by its profundity, exquisiteness and light. Indeed, accomplished artists in their own right, photographer and poet have melded their talents to produce a visceral and ethereal monograph on the flights of angels and in turn have lifted up our souls to the very gods."

    Paula Marvelly (Editor The Culturium)

"The initial experience of flicking through the pages reminded me of seeing the films of the American filmmaker Kenneth Anger whose work was a blend of surrealism, eroticism and the occult . . . For those who like the ambitious and iconoclastic, and also mingle a taste for the horror channel with a penchant for the shadow side of the psyche, this would make a great gift."

Diana Webb, review in Blithe Spirit, Journal of the British Haiku Society, Vol. 32, No.2

Dino Siotis (Poets of the Planet)

Born in Tinos, Greece in 1944, Dino Siotis has published thirty five books of fiction and poetry in Greek, English, French and Spanish. His poems have been translated into many languages, including Arabic and Chinese. He is the founder of Wire Press and Society of (de)kata and the publisher and editor of sixteen political and/or literary magazines in San Francisco, Ontario, New York, Boston, and Athens. He regularly contributes articles on communication, the arts and book reviews in newspapers. He studied Law at Athens University and Creative Writing at San Francisco State University, following which he entered the diplomatic corps for the Hellenic Republic and served abroad a number of years in Canada and the U.S. as director of Press and Communication. In 2007 he received the Greek State Poetry Award for his poetry collection Autobiography of a Target. In 2011 he started Poets Circle in Athens. He is director of the Athens World Poetry Festival and the Tinos International Literary Festival and spends his time between Athens and Tinos, Greece.

Gaza

Once upon a time there was Gaza, once upon a time long
ago it was a city with streets, squares with palm trees and
public buildings and schools and houses with doors and
 
shuttered and glazed windows, once and for all long ago
there was water and electricity and public administration,
once upon a time there were trees with birds, coffeehouses
 
with people drinking tea and coffee and talking, once upon
a time there was a wind that came from river to the sea even
if the wave was closed it would reach to Rafah, once upon a
 
time the inhabitants of Gaza lived beautifully and peacefully
and laughed and danced and they moved around and fell in
love and married and they prospered and the children went
 
to school too their joys (which had no end) were recycled to
the moon, once upon a time all of Gaza was a vast light that
reflected beauty and the liveliness of the moment, once upon
 
a time the expected one could not describe it or to predict it,
once upon a time Gaza was all one district, a neighborhood,
then flood came, and Gaza became a plane lost in its flight
 

 Tinos, May 25, 2024

Γάζα

Μια φορά κι έναν καιρό ήταν η Γάζα, μια φορά κι έναν
καιρό ήταν μια πόλη με δρόμους, πλατείες με χουρμαδιές
και δημόσια κτίρια και σχολεία και σπίτια με πόρτες και
 
παράθυρα με μπετούγιες και τζάμια, μια φορά κι έναν
καιρό υπήρχε νερό και ρεύμα και δημόσια διοίκηση, μια
φορά κι έναν καιρό υπήρχαν δέντρα με πουλιά, καφενεία
 
με ανθρώπους που έπιναν τσάι και καφέ και συζητούσαν,
μια φορά κι έναν καιρό υπήρχε άνεμος που έφτανε απ’ το
ποτάμι ώς τη θάλασσα κι αν το κύμα ήταν κλειστό έφτανε
 
ώς τη Ράφα, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό οι κάτοικοι στη Γάζα
ζούσαν όμορφα και ειρηνικά και γελούσαν και χόρευαν
και κυκλοφορούσαν και ερωτεύονταν και παντρεύονταν
 
και ευημερούσαν και τα παιδιά πήγαιναν σχολείο κι οι
χαρές τους (που δεν είχαν τελειωμό) ανακυκλώνονταν
ώς το φεγγάρι, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό ολόκληρη η Γάζα
 
ένα απέραντο φως που αντανακλούσε την ομορφιά και
τη ζωντάνια της στιγμής, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό το
προσδόκιμο δεν μπορούσε κάποιος να το περιγράψει ή
 
να το προβλέψει, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό η Γάζα όλη μια
συνοικία, μια γειτονιά, μέχρι που ήρθε ο κατακλυσμός,
κι η Γάζα έγινε αεροπλάνο που χάθηκε στην πτήση του
 

Τήνος, 25 Μαΐου 2024

Gaza

Bhí Gaza ann uair amháin, uair amháin fadó
ba chathair é agus sráideanna ann, cearnóga le crainn phailme agus
foirgnimh phoiblí agus scoileanna agus tithe ar a raibh doirse agus

fuinneoga is comhlaí is gloine ghlónraithe, uair amháin bhí uisce
ag cách agus leictreachas agus riarachán poiblí
uair amháin bhí crainn agus éanlaith ann, siopaí caife

agus daoine ag ól tae agus caife, ag cabaireacht, uair
amháin bhí leoithne a tháinig ón abhainn go dtí an mhuir agus fiú
má ba dhúnta í an tonn, shroichfeadh sí Rafah, uair

amháin mhair pobal Ghaza go hálainn agus go síochánta
is gháireadar is dhamhsaíodar is bhogadar thart is thiteadar
i ngrá agus phósadar agus bhí rath orthu agus chuaigh na páistí

ar scoil agus dá lúcháir (gan teorainn) rinneadh athchúrsáil
chun na gealaí, uair amháin solas fairsing ab ea Gaza
scáthán ar áilleacht agus ar spleodar an nóiméid, uair
 
amháin an té a raibh coinne leis ní fhéadfadh sé cur síos air ná é a thuar,
aon cheantar amháin ab ea Gaza uair amháin, comharsanacht,
tháinig tuilte ansin, agus deineadh eitleán de Ghaza a cailleadh i lár eitilte

 

Mimi German (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 Mimi German is an American poet and peace activist living in the wilderness of Oregon. She has published two books of poetry, Where Grasses Bend (EyePublishEwe Press, 2023), and Beneath the Gravel Weight of Stars (Poetry Box Press, 2022). Her books, War Poems and Flowers of the Litter will be out in 2024.

 

WAR POEM #96

All leaves eventually fall
From the tree
Allowing light
To expose the branch
We do not fear
The tree’s way
But open our hearts to it
Like a lotus blossoming
In the warmth of the sun
Teaching us once more
How to live like a leaf
Falling from its tree

DÁN COGAIDH #96

I ndeireadh na dála
Titeann gach duilleog den chrann
Is ligeann don solas
An ghéag a nochtadh
Ní heagal linn
Slite an chrainn
Osclaímid ár gcroí dó
Ar nós na loiteoige a bhláthaíonn
Faoi theas na gréine
Agus a mhúineann dúinn arís
Conas maireachtaint mar dhuilleog
Ag titim den chrann

Agneta Falk Hirschman (POETS OF THE PLANET)

Agneta Falk Hirschman is a Swedish-born poet, visual artist, editor, translator and activist. Her poetry is translated into many languages, and she’s participated in numerous international poetry festivals. In 2018 she was the recipient of the Regina Coppola International Poetry Award in Italy. Her latest book of poetry, Fall and Fly, was published by Seventh Tangent Press, 2023. She lives in San Francisco.




 

 

DANCING ON A WING OF BREATH

The wind brought me here
to a hidden corner
on a stony beach
something about the light
the sky, the sea
melting in to one, into me
the pounding waves
sounding like I feel inside
and there she is, my mother
and all the mothers before her
dancing on a wing of breath
becoming my breath
and nothing can stop me now
from releasing a torrent of tears
for all those who’ve passed
and for those wandering over the earth
in search of a home
where bombs don’t fall.

AG DAMHSA AR EITE ANÁLA

An ghaoth a thug anseo mé
chuig cúinne rúnda
ar dhuirling
rud éigin faoin solas
an spéir, an mhuir
ag leá ina chéile, ionamsa
torann na dtonn
ar nós mar a mhothaímse istigh
agus siúd thall í, mo mháthairse
is na máithreacha uile roimpi
ag damhsa ar eite anála
ar m'anáilse anois í
agus níl aon ní a stopfadh anois mé
ó rabharta a chaoineadh
ar son na marbh
agus ar son na n-anamacha go léir atá ar fán
agus áit á lorg acu
atá saor ó bhuamaí.

Ismaël Diadié Haïdara (Poets of the Planet)

 ISMAËL DIADIÉ HAÏDARA (born 1957) is a librarian, poet, philosopher, historian and president of the Kati Fund Foundation. A regular speaker, he has an extensive work published with titles such as Le Statut du monde. Nécessité, possibilité et contingence chez Ibn Arabi, Cordoba, 1992; Yawdar Pasha y la conquista saudí del Songhay (1591-1599) Instituto de Estudios almerienses, 1993 y Rabat 1996; L’Espagne musulmane et l’Afrique subsaharienne, éditions Donniya, Bamako, 1997; Les Juifs à Tombouctou, éditions Donniya, Bamako, 1999; Los otros Españoles, mr ediciones, Madrid, 2004; Los últimos Visigodos, rd editores, Sevilla, 2003; Las lamentaciones del viejo Tombo, Maremoto, Málaga, 2006; Abana, Rihla, Córdoba, Almuzara, 2006; Monólogo de un carnero, Árbol de Poe, Málaga, 2012; Zimma, Vaso Roto Mexico, 2014, Madrid 2015; Tombuctú, Andaluces en la ciudad pérdida del Sahara, Almazara, 2015. Tebrae, Cantabria, 2021.

BREVE HISTORIA DE MI VIDA

Tombe la neige.
Salvatore Adamo.

Tenía tres estaciones de lluvia en el año de la independencia de este país
Tenía seis estaciones de lluvia en el año de la guerra del Norte
Tenía nueve estaciones de lluvia en el año del cólera
Tenía doce estaciones de lluvia en el año de la gran hambruna
Tenía quince estaciones de lluvia en el año de la otra guerra
Cuando cayeron los obuses de los yihadistas tenía cincuenta y cuatro años
Elegí entre el ataúd y la maleta y me fui con mi hija y mi hijo
Me fui como otras cincuenta y cuatro personas en una barcaza
Han pasado diez años y todas las noches caen obuses en mis sueños
Todas las noches sentado sobre una maleta
Yo también espero
y cae la nieve
Solo cae la nieve.

BRIEF STORY OF MY LIFE

Snow falls
Salvatore Adamo *

I was three years old in the year of independence of this country
I was six years old in the year of the Northern war
I was nine years old in the cholera year
I was twelve years old in the year of the great famine
I was fifteen years old in the year of the other war
When the jihadist shells fell, I was fifty-four years old
I chose between the coffin and the suitcase,
and I left with my daughter and my son
I left my city like fifty-four other people on a barge.
Ten years have passed and every night shells fall in my dreams
Every night sitting on a suitcase
I’m also waiting
and the snow falls
Only snow falls.

*  Belgian-Italian singer

Dírbheathaisnéis Ghairid

Sneachta ag titim
Salvatore Adamo *

Trí bliana d'aois a bhíos nuair a bhaineamar neamhspleáchas amach
Sé bliana d'aois nuair a bhris Cogadh an Tuaiscirt amach
Naoi mbliana d'aois i  mbliain an chalair
Dhá bhliain déag d'aois i mbliain an Ghorta Mhóir
Cúig bliana déag d'aois nuair a tharla an cogadh eile
Nuair a thit sliogáin na jiohádach, ceithre bliana is caoga a bhíos
Bhí rogha le déanamh, cónra nó cás taistil,
D'fhágas le m'iníon is lem' mhac
D'fhágas an chathair i mbáirse, ceathrar is caoga eile im' theannta.
Deich mbliana níos déanaí, titeann sliogáin gach oíche im' bhrionglóidí
Im' shuí ar chás taistil dom chuile oíche
Táimse leis ag feitheamh
agus an sneachta ag titim
gan ach sneachta ag titim

*  Amhránaí Beilgeach-Iodálach

Alan Dent, Mowing the Lawn, (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 Alan Dent was born in Preston in 1951. He has lived in Lancaster, Hull, Rouen, Kent, Wales, Blackburn and now is once more in Preston. He has published the following collections of poetry: Bedtime Story, Antidotes to Optimism, Corker, Who, Town and Schrodinger’s Women. He has also published two volumes of translations from French: When The Metro is Free and Common Cause, the latter by Francis Combes. His work has appeared in Ambit, The Echo Room, The Wide Skirt, New Statesman, Prop, Tears In The Fence, Fire, Still and many other magazines. His plays include The Joy of Banking, Lap Dancing In The Gulag and The Lift. He is famous for his excoriating editorials in his magazines The Penniless Press and Mistress Quickly’s Bed; the former is now a web mag which incorporates the Northern Review of Books, founded by Dent in 2010. He has also published many reviews, mainly of contemporary poetry, and has been described by a leading contemporary poet as “a brilliant critic.” Under various pen-names he has published almost a hundred short stories.

 Lomadh an Fhéir

Má tá do thigh leagtha is do theaghlachsa marbh
leanaí is mamónna ina luí ar an ngaineamh
an domhan bun os cionn - faoi do bhun atá an spéir
níl ann ach an IDF ag lomadh an fhéir;
sceimhle na hoíche, éadóchas an lae
gan lámh chúnta in aice leat, inniu ná inné
nuair b'fhearr leat ná aon rud a bheith sínte sa chré
níl ann ach an IDF ag lomadh an fhéir;
ocras ar pháistí, déantar anraith as féar
gan uisce ar fáil dóibh ná fliuchadh a mbéil
an dorchadas forleathan ag breacadh an lae
níl ann ach an IDF ag lomadh an fhéir;
ina mbáisteach tá buamaí ag titim ón spéir
ar dheis is ar chlé níl ann ach piléir
an IDF ag méanfach is straois orthu go léir
níl ann ach na Síónaigh ag lomadh an fhéir
dílleachtaí ag caoineadh in ard a gcinn go géar
is cabhraíonn SAM leis na daoine atá ag lomadh an fhéir.

MOWING THE LAWN

   by Alan Dent

If your house is destroyed and your family lies dead
your babies and grandmothers left where they bled
if your world is upended and you’re lost and forlorn
it’s only the IDF mowing the lawn;
when your nights pass in terror your days in despair
if you reach for a hand and no one is there
when death’s your best friend and you wish you weren’t born
it’s only the IDF mowing the lawn;
when your children are starving you make soup from grass
not a sole drop of water for your dry mouth, alas,
when life is all darkness no promise of dawn
it’s only the IDF mowing the lawn;
when the bullets fly wildly and there’s nowhere to run
and the bombs fall at random as the goons have their fun
and the IDF laugh, sneer, lie back and yawn
it’s only the Zionists mowing the lawn;
and the righteous US as the poor orphans mourn
runs to help Zionists mowing the lawn.

MERMAID by Cao Shui (Poets of the Planet)

 Cao Shui（Chinese: 曹谁;pinyin: Cáo Shuí), also Shawn Cao (born in June 5, 1982), is a Chinese poet, novelist, screenwriter and translator. He is a representative figure of Chinese Contemporary Literature. He leads “the Greatpoeticism” movement. 

In his Manifesto of Greatpoem, he aims to integrate sacred and secular cultures, oriental and occidental cultures, ancient and modern cultures in Chinese literature. In 2008, he resigned from a newspaper and traveled around Tibet and Xinjiang, which is the center of Eurasia or the World in his view. His novels Secret of Heaven trilogy tells the whole developing history of human civilization. His most notable works includes Epic of Eurasia, the already mentioned trilogy and King Peacock (TV series). In his works, he extracts elements of various ancient human civilizations, from Babylon to the west to Judea, Egypt, Greece, to the east to Persia, India, China, and uses these elements to reconstruct a new Utopian human homeland, which always described as Eurasia, the Top of the Tower of Babel or Kunlun Mountains (Heaven Mountains). So far forty books of Cao Shui have been published, including ten poem collections, four essay collections, ten novels, twenty fairy tales, four translations and one hundred episodes TV series and films. He has won more than 50 literary awards worldwide, including the 1st Chinese Young Poet Award, the 4th Cao Yu Cup Drama Award, the Apollo Dionysus Award of the 8th Italian Rome International Academy of Contemporary Poetry and Art Award, the 12th Russian Golden Knight Award, and the Top Ten Public Figures of the 5th Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, etc. His works have been translated into English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Swedish, Portuguese, Danish, Polish, Russian, Hungarian, Croatian, Slovenian, Turkish, Arabic, Japanese, Korean, Hindi, Nepali, Vietnamese, Tibetan, Mongolian, etc. He has been invited to participate in the 30th Medellin International Poetry Festival, the 26th Havana International Poetry Festival, the 14th Kritya International Poetry Festival in India and the 4th Qinghai Lake International Poetry Festival. He is a member of China Writers Association, China Film Association and China Poetry Society. He is also chief editor of Great Poetry, deputy editor in chief of World Poetry, secretary general of Boao International Poetry Festival and vice president of the Silk Road International Poetry Festival. Currently he lives in Beijing, and works as a professional writer and screenwriter.

Maighdean Mhara

Siúlaim liom agus iasc leonta á iompar agam
Níl ach slí d'iasc amháin sa phota
Conas a leonadh an t-iasc?
Tá freagra uaim
Ní nochtfar an fhírinne gan scrúdú
Chuireas sléibhte díom, aigéin
agus na mílaoiseanna
Ghearr aibhneacha móra trí ghleannta doimhne
Oíche amháin, thiteas isteach i dtuile
Léim an t-iasc as an bpróca
Ní fhéadfainn ach stánadh air agus é ag imeacht
Deirtear gur duine lách mé
Deineadh maighdean mhara den iasc
agus cailíní aimsire lena taobh
gealach ag dul ar gcúl ina suí ar mo cheann
suas leis an maighdean mhara i dtreo na gealaí
titeann braon cumhra drúchta anuas
sínimse mo lámha amach chun breith air
i bhfaiteadh na súl, tuigimse an saol atá thart, an saol atá le teacht

Kieu Bich Hau (Poets of the Planet)

Member of Vietnam Writers’ Association. Born in Hung Yen Province, Vietnam. Ambassador of Ukiyoto Publisher of Canada to Vietnam. Founder and Head of Hanoi Female Translators. 9 National and International Awards in literature.
Published 25 books of prose, poetry, essay in Vietnam, Italy, Canada, Hungary, USA, Romania (Book titles: The Unknown, The Insidious Sister, Road of Love, Orphaned Waves, The Weird Dream, From Red River to Blue Danube, Two Moons …)
Her poems and short stories have been translated into many foreign languages (17): English, Italian, Korean, Russian, Marathi, Hindi, Romanian, Hungarian, Spanish, Portuguese, Nepali, Uzbek, French, German, Turkish, Chinese, Montenegrin.

 Cuthach

Tá sé ceart go leor, lig amach é
Béic orm
Scaoil amach an cuthach
atá ionat le fada
id' chroí, i d'aigne
i ngach cill díot
béic orm,
bain leas as na súile feargacha sin agat,
úsáid na lasracha lonracha
a dhónn mo chraiceann, m'fholt, m'anam
Cuthach an domhain seo
cuthach na harrainge is an éadóchais
mothúcháin a cuireadh faoi chois
ó bheith ag iompar ár bpeacaí dúchais  . . .

Agus is saor atá tú
Agus béarfad barróg ort lem' lámha creathacha
Agus imeoidh an uile dheoir
Ina sruth isteach sa Danóib Ghorm,

isteach san Abhainn Dhearg,
iontu go léir
Agus leáfaimid san abhainn sin
Ag rith isteach sa chruinne
de shíor
Is deoir ollmhór sinn
scaipthe ar fud na cruinne.

LA COLÈRE

C’est bon, laisse-la sortir
Crie-moi dessus
Libère la rage aveugle
qui s’est accumulée depuis longtemps
dans ton coeur, ton esprit
chacune de tes cellules
Simplement crie-moi dessus
use de tes yeux en colère,
Utilise le feu,
et la lumière qui brûle
ma peau, mes cheveux, mon âme
La colère de cette terre
la colère de la douleur et du désespoir
des sentiments refoulés
de tant porter les péchés d’être un humain…
Et tu seras libre
Et je te serrerai dans mes bras tremblants
Et toutes les larmes couleront
dans le courant du Danube Bleu,
dans la rivière Rouge,
dans tout
Et nous nous fondrons dans cette rivière
Restant pour toujours
à couler dans l’univers
Nous sommes une larme géante
dispersée
dans l’univers.

Kieu Bich Hau
La colère, traduction de Francis Combes

Alexis Bernaut (Poets of the Planet)

 LE CHIEN

Le chien aboie à l’écho de la montagne

qu’il lui rende son aboiement – 

Tu sais, le chien

moi aussi j’ai aboyé

à mes rêves, à mes amis, mes quatre murs

et même mes dieux, si j’en avais eu

je leur aurais aboyé dessus –


J’ai aboyé à la vie

espérant qu’elle me rendrait

l’écho de mon premier cri

J’ai aboyé

moi aussi

Alexis Bernaut

GADHAR

Tá an gadhar ag tafann ar mhacalla an tsléibhe:
"Tabhair mo thafann ar ais dom"

An bhfuil a fhios agat, a ghadhair,
Tá tafann déanta agamsa, leis,
tafann ar mo chuid taibhreamh, ar mo chairde, ar na fallaí
na déithe féin, dá mbeadh a leithéid agam
bheinn tar éis tafann orthu.

Tá tafann déanta agam ar feadh mo shaoil
ag súil go bhfaighinn ar ais
macalla óm' chéad bhéic

Sea, tá tafann déanta
agamsa leis.

Michael Augustin (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 

 
JÜDISCHER FRIEDHOF, CZERNOWITZ

Michael Augustin & Gabriel

Die Grabinschriften
Russisch, Hebräisch, Ukrainisch
Rumänisch, Jiddisch, Deutsch
Hier kannst du
von den Toten lernen
wie sich zusammen leben ließe
ohne Streit

REILIG GHIÚDACH, CHERNIVTSI

Na feartlaoithe
Rúisis, Eabhrais, Úcráinis
Rómáinis, Giúdais, Gearmáinis

Is féidir foghlaim anseo
ó na mairbh
conas maireachtaint le chéile
gan aighneas.

JEWISH CEMETRY, CZERNOWITZ

The epitaphs
Russian, Hebrew, Ukrainian
 Romanian, Yiddish, German

Here you can
learn from the dead
how we might live together
without strife

CIMETIĖRE JUIF, CZERNOWITZ

Des inscriptions funéraires
en russe, hébreu, ukrainien,
roumain, yiddish, allemand
Ici, tu peux
apprendre des morts
comment vivre ensemble
sans se disputer.

Traduction de Francis Combes

 

 

Maram al-Masri (POETS OF THE PLANET)

Níl a fhios ag mná
dem’ shórtsa conas labhairt.
Fanann focal ina scornach
mar dhealg
a shlogfaidh siad.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
ní heol dóibh faic ach caoineadh,
caoineadh doshamhlaithe
doirteadh
gan choinne
ar nós artaire a gearradh.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
buailtear iad
gan buille a bhualadh ar ais.
Bíd ar crith le cuthach,
cuirid srian leis.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
is geall le leoin i gcás iad
ag taibhreamh . . .
ar shaoirse

 

Maram al-Masri

 

M. K. Ajay (Poets of the Planet)

LÁRNAITHE

I lár m'aignese,
lochán.
Púróga boga thart air,
féar glas,
éigrit.

Istigh sa lochán,
cuilithíní, agus éisc órga
a ndearna duine éigin dearúd
iad a chur isteach san uisceadán.

Agus laistigh de na héisc órga tá fiaile,
tithe glasa na mbuaf is na dtorbán.

Laistigh den fhiaile, leis,
fionnuaire agus láib,
scáileanna ó dhomhan iomlán na hóige.
Laistigh den fhiaile tá brionglóidí
á slogadh ag éisc órga
tumann cruidíní chun breith orthu.

Preabann éigrit.

An aigne ag cleitearnach.

Ní fheicim an lochán a thuilleadh.

Ní bhraithim ach an fhionnuaire ar mo chraiceann,
déantar aislingí dá chuimilt
ar snámh isteach i bhforaois dhubh
laistigh dem' shuan,
sa tóir ar sheanmháthair.

M.K. Ajay

Leander Sukov (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 

 

 

When I was dreaming
a woman came to me.
She was holding a garden
in her hand.
That it was for sale
she whispered.
I paid a price.
The price was my waking.
She went with my sleep.
Just a memory
remained from my slumber
and its world.

Als ich träumte
kam eine Frau zu mir.
Sie hielt einen Garten
in ihrer Hand.
Dass er zu kaufen wäre
flüsterte sie.
Ich zahlte einen Preis.
Der Preis war mein Erwachen.
Sie ging mit meinem Schlaf.
Nur eine Erinnerung
blieb mir vom Schlummer
und seiner Welt.

As ik drööm
kööm en Fru to mi.
Se holt en Goorn
in ehr Hand.
Dat he to köpen weer
wisperde se.
Ik betahlde en Pries.
De Pries weer mien Opwaken.
Se gung mit mien Slaap.
Blot en Beholen
bleev mi vun' Slummer
un sien Welt

Agus mé ag taibhreamh
tháinig bean chugam.
Bhí gairdín aici
ina lámh.
Ar díol a bhí sé
ar sise i gcogar
D'íocas as.
An praghas ná gur dhúisíos.
D'imigh sí i dteannta mo shuainse.
Níor fhan dem chodladhsa
is den domhan sin
ach cuimhne

Leander Sukov is a writer from Hamburg who writes in German and Low German. His work is consistently politically characterised by the goal of a humane, exploitation-free world. Even in his love poems, the reflection of the world is always present. Sukov was vice-president of the German PEN Centre from 2019 to 2021, he is the secretary general of the Louise Aston Society* and the president of the Low German-Frisian PEN Centre (aspiring), which was founded in autumn 2023. In addition to works of fiction, he also writes theatre and literary reviews. He is a member of the federal executive committee of the Writers' Union (VS in ver.di) and is an active trade unionist.

José Muchnik (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 José Muchnik

Poet and anthropologist, born on November 2nd, 1945 in a hardware store of Boedo, a district of Buenos Aires-Argentina, the city where his parents, Russian immigrants in these lands, had put down roots. His childhood took place among barrels of plaster and drums of fuel, among migrants waves of diverse latitudes which looked for a place of peace to live. Thirty years later, with the arrival of the military dictatorship, he emigrated in his turn. He lives in France since 1976, got a doctorate in anthropology in the École des hautes études en sciences sociales of Paris. He specialized in the study of local food cultures, going through diverse country of Africa and Latin America. He published numerous books of poetry, novels, anthropological works. Founding member of the Franco-Argentinean group “Traversées poétiques”, of the Collectif effraction, and of the “Crue Poétique” (International movement of artists and poets for a world without walls or barbarism). Organizer of numerous poetic manifestations in Paris and musical poetic shows associating tango and poetry.

QUESTIONS AT SUNSET

My God!
Why do they run?
why do they jostle each other?
why do they kill each other?
To go first?
which way will they go?
which door?
which tunnel?
what illusion?
My God!
Why do they press
their fingers to their foreheads?
Why do they rip
the air with their eyes?
Why do they disembowel each other
with truths?
Why do they grind themselves
with progress?
Brothers!
Where are you off to?
…
Can’t you see
beyond your noses?
Do you know the skies
behind this fog?
Or the taste of blood
in the moss of the stones?
Brothers
You have already invented
the latest model
you’ve already explored
the rings of Saturn
and the secret of heredity
in tiny chromosomes
So
….
why keep running?
why keep pushing?
why continue killing?
I know that our species
has never known peace
and I know I don’t have
much to offer you
…
except the edge of this rock
to summon calm
…
to follow the sun
in its eternal farewell
…
to gather the light
that remains between the waves
…
drink in the sky
the last cups of the day
…
breathe the promises
the sweetest promises of the night
Brothers
I know
I don’t have much to offer you
but perhaps
the sunset
…
the edge of this rock
…
and this dry leaf
…
will help us understand
…
that there’s no need to run
there’s nothing to rush into
there’s no reason to kill each other
This dry leaf
…
that falls
lives
casts off its moorings
and surrenders to the waves
…
not knowing if it will arrive
…
until dawn
…
turns to violet
…
or to turquoise
…
before sinking
into the memory of the sea.

José Muchnik
from “Poetic Calendar Extraction 2000”, translation from Spanish (Argentina) Gerry Loose

CEISTEANNA AM LUÍ NA GRÉINE

A Dhia na bhFeart!
Cén fáth a bhfuilid ag rith?
cén fáth a bhfuilid ag guailleáil a chéile?
cén fáth a bhfuilid ag marú a chéile?

Le bheith chun tosaigh?
cén treo a raghaidh siad?
cén doras?
cén tollán?
cén seachmall?
A Dhia na bhFeart!

Cén fáth a mbrúnn siad
a méara lena gcláir éadain?

Cén fáth an t-aer
a stróiceadh lena súile?

Cén fáth na hinní
a bhaint as a chéile le fírinní?

Cén fáth a bhfuilid á meilt
ag an dul chun cinn?
A bhráithre!
 Cá bhfuil bhur dtriall?
…
An bhfuil sibh dall
ar a bhfuil ag tarlú?

An eol daoibh na spéartha
lastall den cheo seo?
Nó blas na fola
ar chaonach na gcloch?
A bhráithre
Tá an gléas is déanaí
ceaptha agaibh cheana
Tá fáinní Shatairn
ar eolas agaibh cheana
agus rún na hoidhreachtúlachta
sna crómasóim is lú
Mar sin
….
cén fáth rith de shíor?
cén fáth brú de shíor?
cén fáth marú de shíor?

Tuigim nach bhfuil taithí ag an speiceas seo againne
ar an tsíocháin
agus tá a fhios agam nach bhfuil mórán agamsa
le tairiscint daoibh
…
Seachas imeall na carraige seo
chun suaimhneas a ghairm

…
an ghrian a leanúint
sa scarúint shíoraí aici
…
an solas a fhanann idir na tonnta
a bhailiú
…
an spéir a shú isteach
cupáin dheireanacha an lae a ól
…
na gealltanais a análú
gealltanais mhilse na hoíche
A bhráithre
Tuigim
gur beag atá le tairiscint agam daoibh

ach cá bhfios ná go gcabhródh
luí na gréine linn
…
imeall na carraige seo
…
agus an duilleog sheasc seo
…
chun go dtuigfimis
…
nach gá rith
nach gá deabhadh a bheith orainn
nach gá a bheith ag marú a chéile

An duilleog sheasc seo
…
a thiteann
a mhaireann
atá gan cheangal anois
agus í ag géilleadh do na tonnta

…
gan fhios aici cad atá i ndán di
…
go n-iompóidh an chamhaoir
corcairghorm
…
nó turcaidghorm
…
sula luíonn sí síos
i gcuimhne na mara

[Irish: Gabriel Rosenstock]

GAZA, a poem by Dino Siotis

 

Born in Tinos, Greece in 1944, Dino Siotis has published thirty five books of fiction and poetry in Greek, English, French and Spanish. His poems have been translated into many languages, including Arabic and Chinese. He is the founder of Wire Press and Society of (de)kata and the publisher and editor of sixteen political and/or literary magazines in San Francisco, Ontario, New York, Boston, and Athens. He regularly contributes articles on communication, the arts and book reviews in newspapers. He studied Law at Athens University and Creative Writing at San Francisco State University, following which he entered the diplomatic corps for the Hellenic Republic and served abroad a number of years in Canada and the U.S. as director of Press and Communication. In 2007 he received the Greek State Poetry Award for his poetry collection Autobiography of a Target. In 2011 he started Poets Circle in Athens. He is director of the Athens World Poetry Festival and the Tinos International Literary Festival and spends his time between Athens and Tinos, Greece.

 

 

 Γάζα

Μια φορά κι έναν καιρό ήταν η Γάζα, μια φορά κι έναν

καιρό ήταν μια πόλη με δρόμους, πλατείες με χουρμαδιές

και δημόσια κτίρια και σχολεία και σπίτια με πόρτες και

παράθυρα με μπετούγιες και τζάμια, μια φορά κι έναν
καιρό υπήρχε νερό και ρεύμα και δημόσια διοίκηση, μια
φορά κι έναν καιρό υπήρχαν δέντρα με πουλιά, καφενεία


με ανθρώπους που έπιναν τσάι και καφέ και συζητούσαν,
μια φορά κι έναν καιρό υπήρχε άνεμος που έφτανε απ’ το
ποτάμι ώς τη θάλασσα κι αν το κύμα ήταν κλειστό έφτανε

 

ώς τη Ράφα, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό οι κάτοικοι στη Γάζα
ζούσαν όμορφα και ειρηνικά και γελούσαν και χόρευαν
και κυκλοφορούσαν και ερωτεύονταν και παντρεύονταν

 
και ευημερούσαν και τα παιδιά πήγαιναν σχολείο κι οι
χαρές τους (που δεν είχαν τελειωμό) ανακυκλώνονταν
ώς το φεγγάρι, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό ολόκληρη η Γάζα
 

ένα απέραντο φως που αντανακλούσε την ομορφιά και
τη ζωντάνια της στιγμής, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό το
προσδόκιμο δεν μπορούσε κάποιος να το περιγράψει ή


να το προβλέψει, μια φορά κι έναν καιρό η Γάζα όλη μια
συνοικία, μια γειτονιά, μέχρι που ήρθε ο κατακλυσμός,
κι η Γάζα έγινε αεροπλάνο που χάθηκε στην πτήση του

 Τήνος, 25 Μαΐου 2024

 

Gaza

Once upon a time there was Gaza, once upon a time long
ago it was a city with streets, squares with palm trees and
public buildings and schools and houses with doors and
 
shuttered and glazed windows, once and for all long ago
there was water and electricity and public administration,
once upon a time there were trees with birds, coffeehouses
 
with people drinking tea and coffee and talking, once upon
a time there was a wind that came from river to the sea even
if the wave was closed it would reach to Rafah, once upon a
 
time the inhabitants of Gaza lived beautifully and peacefully
and laughed and danced and they moved around and fell in
love and married and they prospered and the children went
 
to school too their joys (which had no end) were recycled to
the moon, once upon a time all of Gaza was a vast light that
reflected beauty and the liveliness of the moment, once upon
 
a time the expected one could not describe it or to predict it,
once upon a time Gaza was all one district, a neighborhood,
then flood came, and Gaza became a plane lost in its flight
 
 Tinos, May 25, 2024 

 

Gaza

Bhí Gaza ann uair amháin, uair amháin fadó
ba chathair é agus sráideanna ann, cearnóga le crainn phailme agus
foirgnimh phoiblí agus scoileanna agus tithe ar a raibh doirse agus

fuinneoga is comhlaí is gloine ghlónraithe, uair amháin bhí uisce
ag cách agus leictreachas agus riarachán poiblí
uair amháin bhí crainn agus éanlaith ann, siopaí caife

agus daoine ag ól tae agus caife, ag cabaireacht, uair
amháin bhí leoithne a tháinig ón abhainn go dtí an mhuir agus fiú
má ba dhúnta í an tonn, shroisfeadh sí Rafah, uair

amháin mhair pobal Ghaza go hálainn agus go síochánta
is gháireadar is dhamhsaíodar is bhogadar thart is thiteadar
i ngrá agus phósadar agus bhí rath orthu agus chuaigh na páistí

ar scoil agus dá lúcháir (gan teorainn) rinneadh athchúrsáil
chun na gealaí, uair amháin solas fairsing ab ea Gaza
scáthán ar áilleacht agus ar spleodar an nóiméid, uair

amháin an té a raibh coinne leis ní fhéadfadh sé cur síos air ná é a thuar,
aon cheantar amháin ab ea Gaza uair amháin, comharsanacht,
tháinig tuilte ansin, agus deineadh eitleán de Ghaza a cailleadh i lár eitilte
 

 

Sándor Halmosi (POETS OF THE PLANET)

 

Sándor Halmosi (1971), Hungarian poet, literary translator, editor and mathematician, was born and attended grammar school in Szatmárnémeti (Satu Mare, Romania). He lived in Germany for 16 years and graduated from the University of Stuttgart. Since 2006 he has been living in Budapest, Hungary. Besides all his literary activities he gives presentations on tradition, poetry, language, and symbols. He attaches importance to promoting poetry and cultural dialogue, as well as the interconnection of literature and fine arts. In 2016 he started making cloisonné enamel artworks. Halmosi is the founder of many literary and cultural associations, organizer of workshops and salons, member of the Hungarian PEN Club (Budapest) and of the European Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters (EASAL, Paris), founding member of Poets of the Planet international poetry network established in 2023. He published a literary manifesto in February 2020, with the title Ora et labora. Crying-out for Pure Literature. This is an attempt to shine a light on the spiritual crisis of the world, through an authentic poetic stance and the responsibility of the literates – independent of their respective countries, linguistic and social characteristics. He published about 40 volumes in Hungarian and other languages.

HOGY NE ŐRÜLJ MEG

Hogy ne őrülj meg, meg kell őrülnöd minden
nap. Mint a nagy utasszállítók felszállás előtt,
még a kifutópályán, ahogy lefékeznek,
nyitogatják a szárnyakon az életfontosságú
lemezeket, tesztelik a kijelzőket, neked is
meg kell tanulnod karbantartanod a lelked,
naprakészen az érzékenységed, nem kitérni
semmi elől, hagynod, hogy a hitványság,
mint békés falvakon a vörösiszap, átfolyjon
rajtad. Amíg folyik, megtisztulhatsz.
Újra és újra.

UM NICHT WAHNSINNIG ZU WERDEN

Um nicht wahnsinnig zu werden, musst du jeden Tag
wahnsinnig werden. Wie die großen Passagierflugzeuge,
die auf der Landebahn vor dem Abflug abbremsen,
und die lebenswichtigen Platten auf ihren Tragflügeln
kontrollieren und die Displays testen, so musst du auch
lernen deine Seele zu warten, mit deiner Empfindlichkeit
auf dem Laufenden zu sein, vor nichts auszuweichen,
zulassen, dass Niedrigkeit dich, wie Rotschlamm die ruhigen
Dörfer, überläuft. Bis er fließt, kannst du dich bereinigen.
Wieder und wieder.

 © Aus dem Ungarischen übersetzt von Benedek Kovács, Natalia Schmidt und Sándor Halmosi

NOT TO GO MAD

In order not to go mad, you have to go
mad each day. Like the huge passenger
aircrafts before take-off, even on the runway
as they brake they move the crucial panels
up and down on the wings, test the displays,
you also have to learn to maintain your soul,
keep your sensitivity up to date, not to avoid
anything, let the vulgarity flow through you
as the red mud flows through peaceful villages.
While flowing, you can be cleansed.
Again and again.

© Translated in English by Márta Gyermán-Tóth

 

CHUN NACH RAGHFÁ AS DO MHEABHAIR

Chun nach raghfá as do mheabhair, ní mór duit
dul as do mheabhair gach lá. Ar nós na móreitleán
paisinéirí roimh dóibh éirí san aer, fiú ar an rúidbhealach
nuair a bhrúitear na coscáin bogann na painéil bharrthábhachtacha
suas síos ar na sciatháin, déantar an taispeánadh a thástáil,
beidh ortsa foghlaim chomh maith conas d'anam a chaomhnú,
do leochaileacht a choinneáil suas chun dáta, gan aon ní
a sheachaint, ligean don gháirsiúlacht a bheith ina sruth tríot
faoi mar a imíonn an láib dhearg ina sruth trí shráidbhailte séimhe.
Is féidir tú a ghlanadh sa sruth.
Arís is arís eile

Sotirios Pastakas (POETS OF THE PLANET)

Sotirios Pastakas

 Sotirios Pastakas (Larissa, Greece, 1954), poet. He studied Medicine in Rome and Psychiatry in Athens. He has published 18 poetry collections. It has been translated into 20 languages and has taken part in international poetry festivals (San Francisco, Sarajevo, Izmir, Rome, Naples, Siena, Cairo, Istanbul, Medellin, Caracas etc.). Four poetry collections (Corpo a corpo, Jorge, Monte Egaleo, Isola di Chios) are published in Italy, where he won the NordSud Prize in 2016, one in the USA (Food Line), and one in Spain (Cuerpo a cuerpo). In 2019 he donated his library to the Municipal Library of Rapsani. He is a member since 1994 of the Greek Writers’ Society and from 2021 to 2023 National Coordinator of the World Poetry Movement (WPM) for Greece. From 2023 member and coordinator of Poets of the Planet (POP) for Greece. Won poetry prize “Makis Lachanas” in Thessalian Poetry Festival 2023.
from FOOD LINE ( Forepaw Press, San Francisco, USA, 2014)
(Translated by Jack Hirschman and Aggelos Sakis)

An apple-core.
Someone was sitting here
biting an apple.
Then he disappeared. The same day
that History recorded three
deaths in the center of Athens.
Someone else at another
spot left his cigarette butt
before he disappeared too.
History only records:
apple-cores, cadavers, ashes.

Croí úill.
Bhí duine éigin ina shuí anseo
is bhain plaic as úll.
Ní fhacthas ó shin é. An lá céanna
nuair a thaifid an Stair
gur tharla trí bhás i lár na hAithne.
Duine eile in áit eile
d'fhág sé nuta de thoitín ina dhiaidh
ní fhacthas eisean ó shin ach oiread.
Níl á thaifeadadh ag an Stair ach:
croíthe úill, corpáin, luaithreach