After Rain
After the rain, the forest's sleek, as
Between the pines, the moon startles my heart,
And I smile and think of home, as
A foreign guest in a foreign land.
poem by Yue Fu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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In A Foreign Land
It was a matter of fact that when I paid all my tax
I held my world in the palm of my hand
And all of my debts were causing me to defect
To a land of bananas and sand
So I ran, yes I ran, yes I ran to a foreign land
Here I am, here I am
Here I am in a foreign land
Im so glad we made it
I thought wed never land
I grabbed all my cash
And decided to dash far away
Far away, far away to a foreign land
Here I am, here I am, here I am in a foreign land
Goodbye to all of the rich mans daughters
Goodbye to my debts now Im way cross the water
Far away, far away in a foreign land
Here I am, here I am here I am in a foreign land
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
Please tell my mother and all my ex-lovers
That Ive finally made the grade
Please tell my debtors and the money collectors
That all of my bills will be paid some day
Im away, Im away, far away in a foreign land
Goodbye champagne and caviar set
I wanna slum and drink all the rum I can get
Im away, Im away in a foreign land
Here I am, here I am, here I am in a foreign land
But Im all out of my jack and I cant go back
Im away, far away, far away in a foreign land
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things? Is it a legacy of our colonial years? We want foreign television sets. We want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology. Why this obsession with everything imported?
quote by Abdul Kalam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ite Domum Saturæ, venit Hesperus
The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
The rainy clouds are filing fast below,
And wet will be the path, and wet shall we.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone,
Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on?
My sweetheart wanders far away from me,
In foreign land or on a foreign sea.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
And through the vale the rains go sweeping by;
Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be?
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel they
O’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).
And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mind
The pleasant huts and herds he left behind?
And doth he sometimes in his slumbering see
The feeding kine, and doth he think of me,
My sweetheart wandering wheresoe’er it be?
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The thunder bellows far from snow to snow
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
And loud and louder roars the flood below.
Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be:
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or shall he find before his term be sped,
Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed?
(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.)
For weary is work, and weary day by day
To have your comfort miles on miles away.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
Or may it be that I shall find my mate,
And he returning see himself too late?
For work we must, and what we see, we see,
And God he knows, and what must be, must be,
When sweethearts wander far away from me.
Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.
The sky behind is brightening up anew
(Home; Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),
The rain is ending, and our journey too;
Heigho! aha! for here at home are we:—
In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Foreign Affair
Foreign affair
Take a trip in the air
To a tropical beach
An island to reach
A new territory
For an intimate story
Ali goum pa la mere
It's a foreign affair
Drifting and free
On a mystical sea
A wishful emotion
A drop in the ocean
A hush in the air
You can feel anywhere
In the cool twilight
On a tropical night
Floating on air
Foreign affair
A magical potion
A cool locomotion
A dream
A prayer
It's a foreign affair
Floating on air
Foreign affair
A magical potion
A cool locomotion
A dream
A prayer
It's a foreign affair
Repeat 1st verse (6 times)
Foreign
song performed by by Mike Oldfield from Crises
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The State Department desperately needs to be vigorously harnessed. It has too big a role to play in the formulation of foreign policy, and foreign policy is too important to be left up to foreign service officers.
quote by Evan G. Galbraith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES by carlos bulosan
Homeward again under foreign stars,
history was a strange gush of wind from memory
that came to echo waterfalls of those years:
home to find the place lost among
galaxies of signs. The hills were gone. The river
trail was forgotten... Trying to remember meadowlark
and those who perished in the vanishing land
(bones in the earth where our parents died poor) ,
the journey fell into heavy tides of flowing
scorn that echoed and reechoed time there.
The sun was most unkind to the place:
history: names of men: patterns of life:
all that distant floodtide heaved and moved,
breaking familiar names that immortal tongues
clipped for the heart to cry, 'Home is a foreign address,
every step toward it is a step toward three hundred years
of exile from the truth...'
It was not homeward
to the first known land, nor escape
to white sea sprays blossoming on inland shore,
nor love leaping the boundaries naked in the soul,
but a vast heritage of war and destruction breaking
too soon for the living and willing to die.
Life is a foreign language. Every man mispronounced it...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Foreign policy can mean several things, not only foreign policy in the narrow sense. It can cover foreign policy, relations with the developing world, and enlargement as well.
quote by Romano Prodi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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353
i see you walking on the snowy land
alone
there is no shining sun
the paths too slippery
for your asian
feet
you feel the world is too narrow for you
and you do not fit
like thread
to the eye of the needle
you have cried
more than many times that your fingers
can no longer count them
you have put too much
salt
on the snow
the air is dry and everything
is humid
there are no leaves on the trees
no birds singing
on this harsh foreign land
you are still
alone
on a broken heart you shall thrive
on broken wings you shall try
to fly away again
but for how long
my friend?
my friend do not be lonely
your home is waiting
warmer
the sun is always there
to caress your cold skin
and the moon at night
awaits you
for some more poems
that i make
to appease the
anger in your heart
come home my friend
they have been waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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237
LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES by carlos bulosan
Homeward again under foreign stars,
history was a strange gush of wind from memory
that came to echo waterfalls of those years:
home to find the place lost among
galaxies of signs. The hills were gone. The river
trail was forgotten... Trying to remember meadowlark
and those who perished in the vanishing land
(bones in the earth where our parents died poor) ,
the journey fell into heavy tides of flowing
scorn that echoed and reechoed time there.
The sun was most unkind to the place:
history: names of men: patterns of life:
all that distant floodtide heaved and moved,
breaking familiar names that immortal tongues
clipped for the heart to cry, 'Home is a foreign address,
every step toward it is a step toward three hundred years
of exile from the truth...'
It was not homeward
to the first known land, nor escape
to white sea sprays blossoming on inland shore,
nor love leaping the boundaries naked in the soul,
but a vast heritage of war and destruction breaking
too soon for the living and willing to die.
Life is a foreign language. Every man mispronounced it...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking Home Through the Rain
Walking home through the rain reminds me
Of those long past school days
The wet tie flying in the wind
The mud in those stiff academic shoes
Reflections and dreams of insurrection
Walking through the rain reminds me
Of trying to keep my wet shoes clean
First day at work rain drumming down
On my laborious earnest dampened head.
Walking through the rain in a foreign land reminds me
How often I longed for home: the slashing familiar rain
In alleys lined with laburnum: how even the cold betrayed me
The drops fell into eyes and then in rivulets
Leaked out treacherously again
Walking through the wet wet rain
Walking working wishing wondering
Waiting for a kind of fate
Waiting for kind fate
Fatally kind; rain, when you fell on parched land
Only then did my soul, apaised, try to understand.
Copyright: Rani Turton
poem by Rani Turton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Foreign Land (Sa Banyagang Lupa)
In this foreign land
is where I live.
Here,
I am blessed
and never had
been hungry.
But,
to the land where I came from
is where my thoughts are.
I beg you not
to say anything
because in my heart
is already a great suffering.
I beg you also,
not to ask me to go home now
because I cannot bear
any more pain
of a hungry stomach
and bitterness of humilliation
from a fellow countryman
whose wealth is ill-gotten
and whose talent is not refined.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moses
Stoney paths underfoot,
And my courage it shook,
Dry mouth and cracked lips,
Will I ever find my way home again?
Walking through mountains high,
Sunset in a desert sky,
A nation in a foreign land,
Hearts broken by Pharaohs hand,
Burning bush, naked truth,
Here lie broken lives,
My heart it aches,
My love she waits,
The cycle of life repeated,
Betrayal not yet depleted,
Will we ever learn,
Bodies become ashes in an urn,
Walking through mountains high,
Sunset in a desert sky,
A nation in a foreign land,
Hearts broken by Pharaohs hand,
My star leads me, shining bright,
My people blinded by it's light,
Oh my visions are so grand,
But will we ever reach the promised land?
April 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Better free in a foreign land than a serf at home.
Una
Roving, roving, as it seems,
Una lights my clouded dreams;
Still for journeys she is dressed;
We wander far by east and west.
In the homestead, homely thought;
At my work I ramble not;
If from home chance draw me wide,
Half-seen Una sits beside.
In my house and garden-plot,
Though beloved, I miss her not;
But one I seek in foreign places,
One face explore in foreign faces.
At home a deeper thought may light
The inward sky with chrysolite,
And I greet from far the ray,
Aurora of a dearer day.
But if upon the seas I sail,
Or trundle on the glowing rail,
I am but a thought of hers,
Loveliest of travellers.
So the gentle poet's name
To foreign parts is blown by fame;
Seek him in his native town,
He is hidden and unknown.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This is the very devilish thing about foreign affairs: they are foreign and will not always conform to our whim.
quote by James Reston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is the devilish thing about foreign affairs they are foreign and will not always conform to our whim.
quote by James Reston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Condemned
Heart’s ache is getting worse everyday.
May be I go out in this brutal world
Of scuttling lies to seek the one
who left the body to trace the wound.
A red hibiscus enters my room from the window
and smiles at me.
Outside clumsy blasts are ripping apart
the tranquil day.
I wrench the emotions out of the poem
for the big mouthed kindness
which sprays the bullets.
Terror strikes suddenly on the swollen ankles
We do not know the cure.
No foreign hand will help,
No foreign face will smile.
I have to go for inward journey
My lips will kiss the condemned.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At the time, there were very few foreign names in the press and they were all factory workers. I thought I'd never get a job at a university with a foreign name.
quote by Carl Rakosi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is the devilish thing about foreign affairs: they are foreign and will not always conform to our whim.
James Reston in New York Times (12 June 1968)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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