Many of the Central Asians know Russian, and Ted Levin speaks it fluently. I speak Chinese, but Mongolian is completely different, so we had to have translators.
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02-22-10****It Wasn't About Singing and Dancing
We wanted to watch
Them sing and dance
Yet no one would hire them
Out of SF's Chinatown
So that's where we went
To watch them
Sing and dance
In their nightclubs
We locals went
Hollywood stars
Of the 1940s and 50s
Would be there too
Then the Chinese
Singers and dancers
Were recruited by Gene Kelly
For the movie Flower Drum Song
First time they used
Real Asians
Rather than
Whites in makeup
One movie and then Hollywood
Was done with them
It was back to Asians
Played by whites in makeup
The Chinese/Ameriocans
Had to go back to Chinatown
Where we went
To watch them sing and dance
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Another Version
Our trees are aspens, but people
mistake them for birches;
they think of us as characters
in a Russian novel, Kitty and Levin
living contentedly in the country.
Our friends from the city watch the birds
and rabbits feeding together
on top of the deep, white snow.
(We have Russian winters in Illinois,
but no sleighbells, possums instead of wolves,
no trusted servants to do our work.)
As in a Russian play, an old man
lives in our house, he is my father;
he lets go of life in such slow motion,
year after year, that the grief
is stuck inside me, a poisoned apple
that won't go up or down.
But like the three sisters, we rarely speak
of what keeps us awake at night;
like them, we complain about things
that don't really matter and talk
of our pleasures and of the future:
we tell each other the willows
are early this year, hazy with green.
poem by Lisel Mueller
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The one who understands does not speak, the one who speaks does not understand.
Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
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To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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I speak French fluently, so that really helped.
quote by Noah Hathaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Russian Girl
Ive been frozen, now its so hot I can barely see
Ive been cutting them down so they cant make fun of me, yeah
Been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Young child sitting all alone
Hot child, she wants to take you home
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Ive been rushin you
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Russian girl, Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
Ive been rushin you
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been a russian girl
Ive been a russian girl,
Ive been rushin you
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cat And The Dog In The House Of Their Master
today the cat and the dog of this house
have a holiday of their eternal quarrel
and jealousy
none speaks a bad word for each other
none of them
initiates an argument about whom
of them the master
loves better
none of them
speaks ill about the other neighboring cats
or dogs
the dog does not speak about the bone
the cat does not speak about the rats
both of them are silent and sad
and none wants to speak
beside their master
sick and dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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311
today the cat and the dog of this house
have a holiday of their eternal quarrel
and jealousy
none speaks a bad word for each other
none of them
initiates an argument about whom
of them the master
loves better
none of them
speaks ill about the other neighboring cats
or dogs
the dog does not speak about the bone
the cat does not speak about the rats
both of them are silent and sad
and none wants to speak
beside their master
he is sick and dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speaks!
clouds speak...
with ancient cathedral voices,
but only to those who listen!
babies speak...
with first cry at light,
only mothers' ears hear!
bombs speak...
but never of freedom,
oppression's lies, loud and brash!
hunger speaks...
distinct human faces,
lost to the indifferent roar!
lonliness speaks...
lost in self losing color,
black and white emptiness!
God speaks...
but no one listens;
lost in those clouds,
slowly drifting away!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I want to go to college to study journalism. I want to speak French fluently, to travel. My mom was a journalist and it's in my blood.
quote by Mandy Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost in translation
At My favorite Chinese restaurant
The other day, I somehow got to thinking
about ethnicity
I wondered if there were Chinese Jews
So I asked my waiter
Explicitly:
“Do you have Chinese Jews? ”
I innocently asked
my Chinese waiter
“I don’t think so, I really don’t know,
But I’ll ask the manager and
Let you know later”
He returned in a while
And said with a smile
“no…No have Chinese Jews.”
I couldn’t believe it: a bazzillion people
No “Morrys“…“No Sheckys? ”
What astounding news! !
I queried him again
“could you check
Once more my friend? ”
He denied and replied,
“I regret to admit ItAnd don’t want
To offend
But what you ask for
Has us completely
Confused”
“So sorry to say… that for today
We have only: Grape..Orange…Tomato
and Prune Jews.”
poem by David Whalen
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It's like learning a language; you can't speak a language fluently until you find out who you are in that language, and that has as much to do with your body as it does with vocabulary and grammar.
quote by Fred Frith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy The Mongolian Whistler
Billy the Mongolian whistler
came to England in 1963.
His whistling was so outstanding,
they put him up a tree.
Now Billy had a bird phobia
especially when they went tweet.
So putting him up a tree was thoughtless
if his phobia he had to beat.
As the first daylight was breaking
and the birds began to tweet.
Billy the Mongolian whistler
instead of whistling began to tweet.
Billy was so embarrassed,
down from the tree he came
and Billy the Mongolian whistler
has never been the same again.
A psychiatrist was called in for Billy,
to see if they could put him right.
But he had returned to the desert
where there isn’t a bird in sight.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Women speak because they wish to speak, whereas a man speaks only when driven to speak by something outside himself like, for instance, he can't find any clean socks.
Halley's Comet
Halley's Comet, I-said-a Halley's Comet
How could you know that I lived in a desperate world?
How could you dream that we were all made out of stone?
What is the truth, what is the faithful lasting proof?
What is the central theme to this everlasting spoof?
Knock on my windows, link up the chains
It's gotta be easy, no splinters no pain
It's Cadillac rainbows and lots of spaghetti
And I love meatballs so you better be ready
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
Central part of town, I'm going down
I'm going down to the central part of town
["Halley's Comet" over doo-wop]
What did I do?
And don't be blamin' eat my cashew
For everything I do to get the story
And everything I do to pull me in
And everything I say to get the title
But when they use it on me I reject it
What would you do if you ate my daddy's shoes?
What would you say if it was naturally for you?
How would you feel if it rained on ???
How would you like to have your thick strawberry goo?
I'm sinking down, it's a glorious feeling
To make a big difference, my body is reeling
Even Carl Sagan can't shine my shoes
'Cause I know deep inside it's got to ???
(mighty fine something)
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charity, caring, loving-kindness
Translators live a life
of great blessing, and of frustration:
they live uniquely in the mind
of the great ones they translate – and yet
are destined never fully to reveal this
in their native language, to their fellows,
countrymen and women;
must leave it to the reader, to restore to life.
We too, translators –
words into deeds, deeds into experience,
experience then taught in words…so -
charity, care, or loving-kindness?
maybe we are old, and we uncared for;
maybe we are young, and we uncared for..
but, caring care – this is so beautiful;
to receive; even just to watch; or best, to give…
and too good not to know…
so, we might follow that wonderful advice:
‘What you think you lack – give that! ’
and bestow all our ‘agape’, our ‘charitas’ –
the word which taxed - along with ‘faith’ and ‘hope’ -
the translators of the Bible…
that care that cares not to be care-worn…
we, to translate word to deed,
love, to loving-kindness;
love, to boundless care.
(for Mary N., too, who knows this)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The God speaks
Macbeth speaks; Hamlet speaks.
We say Shakespeare speaks.
Krishna speaks to Arjuna.
We don’t say Vyasar speaks.
21.11.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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