Tag Archive: yabancı şairlerden şiirler

Earth Your Dancing Place / by May Swenson

may-swenson

Beneath heaven’s vault
remember always walking
through halls of cloud
down aisles of sunlight
or through high hedges
of the green rain
walk in the world
highheeled with swirl of cape
hand at the swordhilt
of your pride
Keep a tall throat
Remain aghast at life Devamını Oku
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Unfollowed Figment / by Lyn Hejinian

lyn-hejinian
Useless lighthouse, and the bucket on the beach, the tattered begonias
Forget examples–there’s not an entity or detail around that isn’t more
   than a mere example
What’s truly funny? Devamını Oku
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Variation on a Theme / by W. S. Merwin

W-S-Merwin

Thank you my life long afternoon
late in this spring that has no age
my window above the river
for the woman you led me to Devamını Oku
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Indian Stream Republic / by Stephen Burt

stephen-burt

No one should be this alone–

none of the pines

in their prepotent verticals, Devamını Oku

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L’Avenir est Quelque Chose / by Dobby Gibson

Dobby-Gibson

All day for too long
everything I’ve thought to say
has been about umbrellas,
how I can’t remember how
I came to possess whatever weird one
I find in my hand, like now,  Devamını Oku
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Before the Birth of One of Her Children / by Anne Bradstreet

anne-bradstreet

 

All things within this fading world hath end,

Adversity doth still our joys attend;

No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,

But with death’s parting blow are sure to meet.  Devamını Oku

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Time / by Chris Martin

chris-martin
All that happens happens
in the hollow
mouth
open mid-vow
knowing  Devamını Oku
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If / by Rudyard Kipling

 Rudyard-Kipling-siir 
If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
   And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; Devamını Oku
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Living in Numbers / by Claire Lee

Claire-Lee

Sunday, August 22, 2010:

Number of times I’ve woken up after

oversleeping and sprung out of bed like a ninja: 959

Number of broken bones: 3

Number of scars, physical: 4; emotional: 947

Number of funerals attended: 7

Number of friends, Facebook: 744, real: 9

Number of cavities filled: 0 Devamını Oku

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Compassion IV / by Noelle Kocot

Noelle-Kocot

The human realities of the living are now
As close to me as my own–oh, see how
Dusty that plant gets when you don’t clean
It! The rippling day is a fabulous lesson,
My pants are too loose, and yet. Bon nuit,
Mes chéries! All over the whole neighbor-
Hood, your fluid legs move–you are all  Devamını Oku

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Lost and Found / by Ron Padgett

ron-padgett
                                        Man has lost his gods.
                                        If he loses his dignity,
                                        it’s all over.

 

I said that.

What did I mean?
First, that the belief
in divinity has almost

disappeared. Devamını Oku

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Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet III / by Mary Robinson

kimdir

Turn to yon vale beneath, whose tangled shade

Excludes the blazing torch of noon-day light,
Where sportive Fawns, and dimpled Loves invite,
The bow’r of Pleasure opens to the glade:
Lull’d by soft flutes, on leaves of violets laid,
There witching beauty greets the ravish’d sight,
More gentle than the arbitress of night
In all her silv’ry panoply array’d! Devamını Oku

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The Gods Are in the Valley / by Dana Levin

Dana-Levin-poem
The mind sports god-extensions.


It’s the mountain from which
the tributaries spring: self, self, self, self–

rivering up
on curling plumes
from his elaborate
head-piece

of smoke. Devamını Oku

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The Wife-Woman / by Anne Spencer

Anne_Spencer

Maker-of-Sevens in the scheme of things
From earth to star;
Thy cycle holds whatever is fate, and
Over the border the bar.
Though rank and fierce the mariner
Sailing the seven seas,
He prays as he holds his glass to his eyes,
Coaxing the Pleiades. Devamını Oku

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Opening Gambit / by Michael McGriff

Michael-McGriff

Two decommissioned highways cross
and continue toward their borders
with the casual certainty
the dead carry in their sample cases.
Leaning against the wind
I notice tufts of fur in the air
and a driveshaft rising from the sand,
then the horsehair of a violinist’s bow
drawn steadily across my neck. Devamını Oku

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