The present is a present, so be present
Always, behind the known,
the greater unknown…
behind the tedious Latin translation,
the struggle to find French elegance in French -
the private joys of the translator…
that rare intimacy, as a soul to soul
across the divides of language…
‘Laetus in praesens’ says Marsilio Ficino
in his Renaissance colloquial Latin
written up around the wall
of his Academy, such as it was…
The translator – half mechanical,
half philosopher, scribbles down
‘Rejoice in the present’..
and presently, pauses, contemplates…
Is it, was it, as easy as all that?
Sounds good, but is it practical?
In another age, Eckhart Tolle will expound
The Power Of Now – how joy
will follow presence, as the night the day…
The translator, cautious in his guidelines,
contemplates ‘Be present, rejoicing..’
as a poetic alternative… thus satisfying
philosophy as the study of causes…
checks various manuscripts; ah,
it’s written in one as ‘impraesens’…
almost adjectival; as a necessary state:
‘rejoice, being present’ then, perhaps?
Behind the shoulder of the translator,
stands as always, just as does
the unknown at the shoulder of the known,
(not quite nudging, sometimes, the writing arm)
the author…so close, this present moment,
is his presence…
the translator, gifted with a present by the wise,
the presence of the wise,
is wholly present; and that almost
imperceptible joy – recognised only
by the absence of all other things –
which the wise call bliss,
steals like a blessing
from the eternal, timeless, unblemished,
perfect now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Joy enjoyed with or without hope...
Joy
gets a bad press
from poets and divines –
it’s fleeting, can’t
be trusted, brings
a downside;
better far they say
is bliss: quiet, indifferent,
that is, beyond all differences
that sadden; divisions
that steal our perfect,
timeless, spaceless I guess
unity
this poem looks
with joyful hope
or hopeful joy
well joy and hope
or would joy or hope be enough,
Paul,
to a future bliss
which when found
has no past or future but
only the perfect present
of the perfect present.
[another one with acknowledgements to Eckhart Tolle and ‘The Power of Now’…]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ballade adresse a Geoffrey Chaucer
O Socratès plains de philosophie,
Seneque en meurs, Auglius en pratique,
Ovides grans en ta poëtrie,
Briés en parler, saiges en rethorique . . .
Grant translateur, noble Geoffrey Chaucier.
O Socrates, filled with philosophy,
Seneca in morals, Aulus Gellius in practice,
Great Ovid of your poetry,
Brief in speech, wise in rhetoric,
Most high eagle, who by your science
Enlumined the realm of Æneas.
The Isle of giants, of Brut, who has
Sown the flowers and planted the rose bower
For those ignorant of French,
Great translator, noble Geoffrey Chaucer.
You are the god of earthly love in Albion,
And of the Rose - in the Angelic land,
Which, from the Saxoness Angelica, has flourished
Into Angle-land, from her whose name is applied
As the last in this etymology -
You have translated in good English;
And a garden for which you ask for plants
From those who compose in order to be authorities,
You have long since created,
Great translator, noble Geoffrey Chaucer.
From you therefore, from the fountain of Helicon,
I have asked to have an authentic drink,
From the stream that is entirely in your power,
In order to quench my fevered thirst,
I who shall be shall be paralyzed in Gaul
Until you send to give me drink.
I am Eustaces; you shall have some of my plants;
Take in good grace these works of a schoolboy
Which you will recieve from me by Clifford,
Great translator, noble Geoffrey Chaucer.
L'envoy
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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To Me His Presence Is A Mystery
When havoc and disaster came my way
upon a tranquil sunny summer day
I had blamed God for being absent,
of my accusation He was innocent;
He is present in a world of iniquity
and to me His presence is a mystery.
I looked for God, Him I did not see,
His image, His presence eluded me
but I found His tracks everywhere,
in everything lovely His hand was there;
He is present in a world of iniquity
and to me His presence is a mystery
There was great beauty in a lone thrush
singing all the world to a holy hush,
the pattering rain brought along new birth
while He continually blessed the earth;
He is present in a world of iniquity
and to me His presence is a mystery.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Present
Bury the Past
Forget the Future
Think about the Present
Be alert and cautious in the present
Do not regret about the past
Or worry about the future
Past is gone
Future is unknown
Present is what you have today
So utilise it to the fullest extent
Its your life's biggest asset
That will fetch you great dividends
Realize that this is a gift given to you by God
That's why it is called as "PRESENT"
poem by Kavita Iyer
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Do You Feel the Same Way Too?
I’ve just written to a friend and said
‘I’ve just written a poem
which I would have given my life
to have written.’…
and then sat and looked at
what I’d written –
wondering whether
that was what I really meant..
(and, faintly, contemplating
whether a thunderbolt
straight from Justice central
might strike me there and then…)
or whether I’d retreated into
some private world of self-delusion..
or whether I had reached the height
of mortal bliss.. as perhaps some ‘real’ poet might…
when on the scales of life-for-life
or perhaps, eternity,
I was offering humbly, in exchange
for all I have received, all
that my soul could offer…
discarding all the burdens of the past,
disregarding any thoughts of future life,
living in the present, like a child does,
as, glorious, the present presently moves on
from freedom into freedom… tell me,
do you feel the same way too?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poets Lost In Translation
several differing translations
of some masterpiece poems
written by immortal poets
timeless especially esteemed
written in foreign languages
stresses how much poetry
suffers lost in translation
it is the hardest literary
medium to translate due
to the multiple meanings
of some words choice chosen
in the original mother language
the wonderful poetic effects
linking such words achieves
resonates in receptive souls
Is a good translation only
achieved when the translator
is a poet with a mother tongue
knowledge of both languages
in use vibrating admiration?
Is an intimate knowledge
a unique empathic sensitivity
for chosen poet in translation
a prime necessity in translating
feelings emotions ideals writ?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Emergency Exit
I must be present now
before I can have a past;
I must be present now
to create a future then.
If I still my present mind
and exchange present thoughts
for nothing at all,
I have escaped past and future
and achieved a timeless peace
with no yesterday, no tomorrow.
I am
before
Abraham was.
poem by Brian Taylor
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One Must Learn To Love The Present Good Moment
One must learn to love the present good moment
In itself and for itself
As if there were only it and no other-
One must learn to love the present good moment
Without wondering why it will pass
And why all things must –
One must learn to give one’s heart and mind wholly to the present good moment-
And when it is over
Wake from the dream
With joy and gratitude
Despite regretting that the moment is gone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Where Do I Belong (4th revision)
Cannot escape, cannot lift off to leave
life behind; though reading of amazing
affection, a sensitive heart filled with love
driving emptiness and misery away, I’m
still caged in darkness without reprieve
Stranded in depressive doldrums but
unable to place a cause – given my son’s
operation is routine and we’re able to
afford best treatment anyway, why feel
so bad, where is the missing ideal
Being the best assembly-line translator,
assisting colleagues & clients, mother of
two independent kids needing only money
& material aid not our physical presence
or leadership; other than living life with
Integrity, I’m empty – if Life’s purpose is
caring for small beings some might think
me a crocodile, yet in a reptilian way,
gently carrying small crocodiles in my
mouth with the very best
Now just a translator in need of a lodestar,
an ideal to provide inspiration, none remain
to sustain me, my loved ones independent,
forced to focus on new things, to ask
where do I belong…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Sin Present
Those present shall amplify the sin,
Coming to the foreground is wise;
You are a talent of strength,
And absence has disappeared.
We sting and squirm like rocks of lead,
Finding the heat unbearable,
Internally we lament and feel joy as well.
There the guards find guests of the world,
And the present torture is overwhelming.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dimension Merge
For us the past has gone and the present moves on
into the yesterday of a future’s present time.
Despite living in the future’s past this will not last,
present and future will very soon combine.
Future or dimension, to some a misapprehension,
but they are one in the same.
If there’s more than one, they will follow on
to leave one, with it’s present name.
On merging we’ll realise we’ve no future to recognise,
and the past and present is all we’ll know.
The past will still be renewed, with each day used,
but the future will mean only tomorrow.
poem by Orlando Belo
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And I always read the English translation and always have conversations with my translator, for example about the names. I always have to approve it.
quote by Cornelia Funke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Memories
So can you hear those softest sounds from out the snow filled sky
A jingling and as a jangling as Santa’s sleigh glides by?
So can you hear feel those joyous sounds as day replaces night
A present here a present there and children’s eyes so bright?
So do you think at Christmas time of when you were a child
When magic and your simple faith had your whole soul beguiled?
So when your children have grown up or maybe moved away
We should all rejoice with memories of those entrancing days.
poem by David Keig
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Mask Of Future
Dreams weren’t farfetched for me
Life wasn’t bad for me
I got everything I wanted,
Power and ability, and even opportunity
But I ignored something unknown.
I got an opportunity,
But I did not complete my wish.
I did not misuse my opportunity,
But this world has a sequence.
A flow which we all follow
Something I failed to do.
I used my powers at the wrong time.
I stepped into higher steps ignoring the lower ones.
But I failed to realize something,
I failed to realize that everything required a basement.
A basement on which it can stand.
A power on which it can function.
I ignored the lower aspects of my life,
I went for the larger ones and accomplished them with ease
But there were two things in the lower steps.
Two things that I ignored.
Time and patience.
I ignored the aspect of time, and looked into the future.
I lacked patience and was eager to reach the future.
But I failed to realize that the future did not exist.
We can never reach our future.
For, when we reach it, it becomes the present.
I failed to realize that the future is yet another present,
A present which I always ignored.
I failed to realize that we can control only our present.
Use the present wisely, and the future will follow up.
I failed to see the hidden mask of future.
A mask, if opened, showed that the future is just another present.
poem by Vivek Kartha
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0397 That, it is
unknown; formless;
eternal; always present
who may think of it?
who may speak of it?
who may not think of it?
who may not speak of it?
where is it?
where is it not?
when is it?
when is it not?
what is it?
what is it not?
who is it?
who is it not?
when other is one
and there is here
and that is this
and then is now
and poets are silent
and silence holds their poetry
and mind and heart
are in love with rest
there in the stillness,
unknown, formless,
eternal,
always present,
here and now
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Free Spirit
You take away my freedom,
you restrict me of my rights,
you limit me by day
and lock up all my nights.
You may have physically trapped me
but there's part of me still free;
soul, images, memories
you can't take what you can't see.
So when you think you look at me
you're looking at a wall
I might be in your presence
but i'm not present at all.
My spirit is silently soaring
over oceans, over seas,
to visit what's forbidden
banished by your keys.
And if you really knew me
you would know my soul is free;
old and wise and peaceful
and where it longs to be.
poem by Shadow Girl
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Learn Ramdas!
Learn Ramdas,
if one is either lost in the
memories of past which are dead
or
lost in thinking about unborn
future, surely one is absent in the
present!
living in the present,
is presence of mind,
living in the past or future is
absence of mind.... Just like Shakunthala lost in
memories got cursed,
for absence of mind!
Every moment we encounter
with various forces of nature,
we get cursed, for absence of mind,
either by imperfect souls,
or imperfect gods
or demons
those are one with
natural forces! Presence of mind and absence of
mind,
let us know which is more
helpful!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A joyful death in life
There is, it’s said, a state of joyful death,
known to the wise; and this, more realised
than that cessation of our mortal breath
beyond experience; only surmised;
a ‘death’ that’s not an end, but life anew;
a death that leaves no space where to be sad;
that leaves no time for guilt, regret or rue
but sets us free to know ourselves, and glad;
quite free of ‘past’ and ‘ future’ in the mind,
a life entirely of the moment’s grace;
the present taking care of what’s designed
to teach the lessons which our soul must face;
consciousness then grows apace; and when
the ego dies – there’s no more dying then..
[with acknowledgements to Eckhart Tolle's 'The Power of Now']
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.
quote by Eckhart Tolle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The translator's task is to create, in his or her own language, the same tensions appearing in the original. That's hard!
quote by Manuel Puig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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