2013. augusztus 31., szombat

John Donne: Ájtatosságok fontos alkalmakra XVII. meditáció

Senki sem különálló sziget;
minden ember a kontinens része,
a szárazföld egy darabja;
ha egy göröngyöt mos el a tenger,
Európa lesz kevesebb,
éppúgy, mintha egy hegyfokot mosna el,
vagy barátaid házát, vagy a te birtokod;
minden halállal én leszek  kevesebb,
mert egy vagyok az emberiséggel;
ezért hát sose kérdezd kiért szól a harang:
érted szól.
(Sőtér István fordítása) 

Szilágyi Domokos: Mérleg

A szívem: forró-zűrzavaros mérleg.
Rajta józanul-hűvösen lemérlek.

Nem bőröd bársonyát, selyemhajad színét sem
(sohasem akarom, hogy ilyen szándék kísértsen),

-- csak egy sóhajt: csodásat, halkat, mélyet. . .
És akkor két szempár egymásba mélyed.

S lebillen serpenyője mérlegemnek:
megmérettél. . . -- S az eredmény: szeretlek.

Gerald Fleming: Long Marriage

You're worried, so you wake her
& you talk into the dark:
Do you think I have cancer, you
say, or Were there worms
in that meat, or Do you think
our son is OK, and it's
wonderful, really--almost
ceremonial as you feel
the vessel of your worry pass
miraculously from you to her--
Gee, the rain sounds so beautiful,
you say--I'm going back to sleep.

2013. augusztus 30., péntek

Marie Howe: Hurry

We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store  
and the gas station and the green market and  
Hurry up honey, I say, hurry,  
as she runs along two or three steps behind me  
her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down.  

Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave?  
To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown?  
Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her,  
Honey I'm sorry I keep saying Hurry—  
you walk ahead of me. You be the mother.  

And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking  
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,  
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands.

Pat Mora: Elena

My Spanish isn't enough.
I remember how I'd smile
listening to my little ones,
understanding every word they'd say,
their jokes, their songs, their plots.
Vamos a pedirle dulces a mama. Vamos.
But that was in Mexico.
Now my children go to American high schools.
They speak English. At night they sit around
the kitchen table, laugh with one another.
I stand by the stove and feel dumb, alone.
I bought a book to learn English.
My husband frowned, drank more beer.
My oldest said, "Mama, he doesn't want you
to be smarter than he is." I'm forty,
embarrassed at mispronouncing words,
embarrassed at the laughter of my children,
the grocer, the mailman. Sometimes I take
my English book and lock myself in the bathroom,
say the thick words softly,
for if I stop trying, I will be deaf
when my children need my help.

2013. augusztus 29., csütörtök

Hal Sirowitz: Sons

We're Jewish, Father said.
So we don't believe in Christ.
If God wanted us to worship Jesus
he would have arranged for us to be born
into an Italian family. I have nothing
against Him. He was probably a very nice man.
You have to give Him credit for trying.
A lot of people still believe He's the Son of God.
I don't know what He had against His real father.
But if you ever did that to me,
said you were someone else's son, I'd be insulted.

2013. augusztus 28., szerda

2013. augusztus 27., kedd

U. A. Fanthorpe: Atlas

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

2013. augusztus 26., hétfő

Lady Otomo No Sakanoe: You say, "I will come"

You say, "I will come."
And you do not come.
Now you say, "I will not come.”
So I shall expect you.
Have I learned to understand you?

(Translated from the Japanese by Kenneth Rexroth)

2013. augusztus 24., szombat

Somlyó György: Mese arról, ki hogyan szeret

Van, aki azt hiszi, tehet, amit akar, hisz szeretik.
Van, aki azt hiszi, tehet, amit akar, hiszen szeret.
Van, aki úgy érzi, minden tettére vigyáznia kell, éppen mert szeret.
Van, aki úgy érzi, minden tettére vigyáznia kell, éppen mert szeretik.
Van, akinek számára a szerelem határos a gyűlölettel.
Van, akinek számára a szerelem határos a szeretettel.
De van olyan is, aki a szerelmet összetéveszti a szeretettel, s nem érti, hogy mások feleletül a gyűlölettel tévesztik össze a szerelmet.
Van, aki úgy szeret, mint az országútra tévedt nyúl, amely a fénycsóvák csapdájába esett.
Van, aki úgy, mint az oroszlán, amely széttépi azt, amit szeret.
Van, aki úgy szeret, mint a pilóta a várost, amelyre bombáit ledobja.
Van, aki úgy, mint a radar, amely a repülők útját vezeti a levegőben.
Van, aki békésen szeret, mint a kecske, amely hagyja, hogy megszopja az éhező kisgyerek.
Van, aki vakon, mint a másikat alaktalanságába nyelő amőba.
Van, aki esztelenül, mint az éjszakai lepke a lángot.
Van, aki bölcsen, mint a medve a téli álmot.
Van, aki önmagát szereti másban, s van, aki önmagában azt a másikat, akivé maga is válik általa.

2013. augusztus 23., péntek

Naomi Shihab Nye: Open House

I work as hard as I can
to have nothing to do.

Birds climb their rich ladder
of choruses.

They have tasted the top of the tree,
but they are not staying.

The whole sky says,
Your move.

2013. augusztus 22., csütörtök

Shel Silverstein: Listen to the Mustn'ts

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
      Listen to the DON'TS
      Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
      Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me-
      Anything can happen, child,

2013. augusztus 21., szerda

Fina García Marruz: Si Mis Poemas

Si mis poemas todos se perdiesen
la pequeña verdad que en ellos brilla
permanecería igual en alguna piedra gris
junto al agua, o en una verde yerba.

Si los poemas todos se perdiesen
el fuego seguiría nombrándolos sin fin
limpios de toda escoria, y la eterna poesía
volvería bramando, otra vez, con las albas.

2013. augusztus 20., kedd

Donna Henderson: Joy

I was so hungry!
& my hunger longed for the bite-sized Joy
in my pocket, its luscious
crush in my teeth,
almond soul from the brown glaze
sweetly releasing.
But my plans! – To hike the length of the Spit,
then have my Joy when I've earned it
But my Joy wouldn't let me
loose from the lot unpartaken.
Whispered, my hunger,
          Have it now, let it sustain you.
Joy's not the end, Joy's
the way.

2013. augusztus 19., hétfő

Ed Edmo: Indian Education Blues

I sit in your
crowded classrooms
learn how to
read about dick,
jane & spot
but I remember
how to get deer
     I remember
     how to beadwork
     I remember
     how to fish
     I remember
     the stories told
     by the old
but spot keeps
showing up &
my report cad
is bad

2013. augusztus 17., szombat

Reményik Sándor: Mi mindig búcsúzunk

Mondom néktek : mi mindig búcsúzunk.
Az éjtől reggel, a naptól este,
A színektől, ha szürke por belepte,
A csöndtől, mikor hang zavarta fel,
A hangtól, mikor csendbe halkul el,
Minden szótól, amit kimond a szánk,
Minden mosolytól, mely sugárzott ránk,
Minden sebtől, mely fájt és égetett,
Minden képtől, mely belénk mélyedett,
Az álmainktól, mik nem teljesültek,
A lángjainktól, mik lassan kihűltek,
A tűnő tájtól, mit vonatról láttunk,
A kemény rögtől, min megállt a lábunk.
Mert nincs napkelte kettő, ugyanaz,
Mert minden csönd más, - minden könny, - vigasz,
Elfut a perc, az örök Idő várja,
Lelkünk, mint fehér kendő, leng utána,
Sokszor könnyünk se hull, szívünk se fáj,
Hidegen hagy az elhagyott táj, -
Hogy eltemettük : róla nem tudunk.
És mégis mondom néktek :
Valamitől mi mindig búcsúzunk.

2013. augusztus 16., péntek

Nino Nikolov: Confusion

When confusion reigns
and the waitress begins to think
that the hungry exist for her,
and the air hostess begins to think
that the passengers exist for her,
and the pharmacist begins to think
that the patient exists for her,
and the reviewer begins to think
that the author exists for her—
and not the other way about:

When confusion reigns
I too, my love, begin to think
that you were made for me.

(Translated by Ewald Osers)

2013. augusztus 15., csütörtök

C.P. Cavafy: As much as you can

And if you cannot make your life as you want it,
at least try this
as much as you can: do not disgrace it
in the crowding contact with the world,
in the many movements and all the talk.
Do not disgrace it by taking it,
dragging it around often and exposing it
to the daily folly
of relationship and associations,
till it becomes like an alien burdensome life.

(Translated from Greek by Rae Dalven)

2013. augusztus 14., szerda

Octavio Paz: Escrito con tinta verde

La tinta verde crea jardines, selvas, prados,
follajes donde cantan las letras,
palabras que son árboles,
frases que son verdes constelaciones.
Deja que mis palabras, oh blanca, desciendan y te cubran
como una lluvia de hojas a un campo de nieve,
como la yedra a la estatua,
como la tinta a esta página.
Brazos, cintura, cuello, senos,
la frente pura como el mar,
la nuca de bosque en otoño,
los dientes que muerden una brizna de yerba.
Tu cuerpo se constela de signos verdes
como el cuerpo del árbol de renuevos.
No te importe tanta pequeña cicatriz luminosa:
mira al cielo y su verde tatuaje de estrellas.

2013. augusztus 13., kedd

Fleur Adcock: For a Five-Year-Old

A snail is climbing up the window-sill
into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see and I explain
that it would be unkind to leave it there:
it might crawl to the floor; we must take care
that no one squashes it. You understand,
and carry it outside, with careful hand,
to eat a daffodil.

I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
your gentleness is moulded still by words
from me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
from me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
your closest relatives and who purveyed
the harshest kind of truth to many another,
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.

2013. augusztus 12., hétfő

Raul Gutierrez: Lies I’ve Told My 3 Year Old Recently

Trees talk to each other at night.
All fish are named either Lorna or Jack.
Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose.
Tiny bears live in drain pipes.
If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.
The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago.
Everyone knows at least one secret language.
When nobody is looking, I can fly.
We are all held together by invisible threads.
Books get lonely too.
Sadness can be eaten.
I will always be there.

2013. augusztus 10., szombat

Reményik Sándor: Tükrök törvénye

Hogy a mi lelkünk szépítő tükör,
Egymást szépítjük meg:
Az meglehet.
Nem baj.
Így tükrözi a Szent Anna-tava
Sokszor még mélyebben a mély eget.

Mi nem tükrözünk mást, mint lényeget.

És azért ez a látás így igaz,
Ha egy-egy vonástól el is tekint.
Mi látjuk egymást, nem ahogy vagyunk,
De látjuk örök mivoltunk szerint.

2013. augusztus 9., péntek

Jason Shinder: How I Am

When I talk to my friends I pretend I am standing on the wings

of a flying plane. I cannot be trusted to tell them how I am.
Or if I am falling to earth weighing less

than a dozen roses. Sometimes I dream they have broken up

with their lovers and are carrying food to my house.
When I open the mailbox I hear their voices

like the long upward-winding curve of a train whistle

passing through the tall grasses and ferns
after the train has passed. I never get ahead of their shadows.

I embrace them in front of moving cars. I keep them away

from my miseries because to say I am miserable is to say I am like them.

2013. augusztus 8., csütörtök

Linda Pastan: Marks

My husband gives me an A
for last night's supper,
an incomplete for my ironing,
a B plus in bed.
My son says I am average,
an average mother, but if
I put my mind to it
I could improve.
My daughter believes
in Pass/Fail and tells me
I pass. Wait 'til they learn
I'm dropping out.

2013. augusztus 7., szerda

Octavio Paz: Nuevo rostro

La noche borra noches en tu rostro,
derrama aceites en tus secos párpados,
quema en tu frente el pensamiento
y atrás del pensamiento la memoria.

Entre las sombras que te anegan
otro rostro amanece.
Y siento que a mi lado
no eres tú la que duerme,
sino la niña aquella que fuiste
y que esperaba que durmieras
para volver y conocerme.

2013. augusztus 6., kedd

2013. augusztus 5., hétfő

Debra Spencer: The Discovery of Sex

We try to be discreet standing in the dark
hallway by the front door. He gets his hands
up inside the front of my shirt and I put mine
down inside the back of his jeans. We are crazy
for skin, each other's skin, warm silky skin.
Our tongues are in each other's mouths,
where they belong, home at last. At first

we hope my mother won't see us, but later we don't care,
we forget her. Suddenly she makes a noise
like a game show alarm and says Hey! Stop that!
and we put our hands out where she can see them.
Our mouths stay pressed together, though, and
when she isn't looking anymore our hands go
back inside each other's clothes. We could

go where no one can see us, but we are
good kids, from good families, trying to have
as much discreet sex as possible with my mother and father
four feet away watching strangers kiss on TV,
my mother and father who once did as we are doing,
something we can't imagine because we know

that before we put our mouths together, before
the back seat of his parents' car where our skins
finally become one-before us, these things
were unknown! Our parents look on in disbelief
as we pioneer delights they thought only they knew
before those delights gave them us.

Years later, still we try to be discreet, standing
in the kitchen now where we think she can't see us. I
slip my hands down inside the back of his jeans
and he gets up under the front of my shirt.
We open our mouths to kiss and suddenly Hey! Hey!
says our daughter glaring from the kitchen doorway.
Get a room! she says, as we put our hands
out where she can see them.

2013. augusztus 3., szombat

Reményik Sándor: Végrendelet

Fáradtságom adom az esti árnynak,
Színeimet vissza a szivárványnak.

Megnyugvásom a tiszta, csöndes égnek,
Mosolygásom az őszi verőfénynek.

Sok sötét titkom rábízom a szélre,
Semmit se várva és semmit se kérve.

Kik üldöztek át tüskén, vad bozóton:
Kétségeim az örvényekbe szórom.

A holtom után ne keressetek,
Leszek sehol - és mindenütt leszek.

2013. augusztus 2., péntek

Trish Dugger: Spare Parts

We barge out of the womb
with two of them: eyes, ears,

arms, hands, legs, feet.
Only one heart. Not a good

plan. God should know we
need at least a dozen,

a baker's dozen of hearts.
They break like Easter eggs

hidden in the grass,
stepped on and smashed.

My own heart is patched,
bandaged, taped, barely

the same shape it once was
when it beat fast for you.

2013. augusztus 1., csütörtök

Thomas R. Smith: Trust

It's like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.

The package left with the disreputable-looking
clerk, the check gulped by the night deposit,
the envelope passed by dozens of strangers—
all show up at their intended destinations.

The theft that could have happened doesn't.
Wind finally gets where it was going
through the snowy trees, and the river, even
when frozen, arrives at the right place.

And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life
is delivered, even though you can't read the address.