Infinity...the size of my embrace
A trace of light trodden upon
The red dawn haunting the crossroads of the step
Among the treetops nestling forebodings
Among the boughs the fruit naked in sorrow
Another spring the chesnut blooms twice
Another spring a cherry tree no fruit delivers
The flower's hunting the webs of an evil beginning
Will you come to me in the unsigthed hours
Be open among the handclocks and put on a cross
For long heartbeaten like a bell from the church
The song reverberating through the universe
An infinity circled within a rainbow
The size of my embrace
Beskraj...velič ine mog zagrljaja
Ugažen trag svjetlosti
Zarudjelom zorom raskorakom vreba
Medj krošnjama od straha gnijezde se slutnje
Medj granjem od tuge razgolić en plod
Još jednog proljeć a kesten dvaput cvjeta
Još jednog proljeć a trešnja mi ne rađ a
Cvijetom plijeni mreže zloslutnog poč etka
Hoć eš li mi doć i u nepregled sati
Medj kazaljkama rasklopljen i na krstu raspet
Medj trnjem od lovora suzom od vremena
Odavno otkucan u srcu ko sa zvonika zvon
Svemirom odjeknuta pjesma
Dugom zaokružen beskraj
Velič ine mog zagrljaja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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At Twilights Beyond The Fields / U Sutonima Iznad Polja
My shadow will reappear
Whispering for long among the spikes
Turning the pages of light
Among the sunflowers
Homelessly dream under the bridges
Outstretch the hand of a beggar
Spread the hands of a child
To make an embrace
Among the clouds with wings so light
My hair will spread
Undone in the lelek of the beginning
Entangled in the treetops
The fire lit within the ring
Will kill me in the hunger of the quest
Note: lelek (Serbian) – screams of mourning
U sutonima iznad polja
Vaskrsnuce opet moja sjen
I dugo klasjem saputati
Medj suncokretima okretati
Stranice svjetlosti
Pod mostovima beskucno sniti
Ispruziti ruke prosjaka
Rasiriti ruke djeteta
Ne bi li bio zagrljaj
Medj oblacima lakokrila
Sirice se moja kosa
Raspletena lelekom pocetka
Zapletena u krosnjama
U obrucu zapaljena vatra
Umorice me gladju traganja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
Oči vične čekanju u rascvaloj vodi
Uminuo privid u snazi talasa
Na dlanu mi sjever jutro mu hodi
Zvukom se u srcu praporac bjelasa
Oči vične gledanju promrzloga svijeta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
Ruke vične lutanju u dozrele tmine
Pred kapijom jednom premrle od straha
Što u šaci drže usudom se vine
U planine sniježne zaleđenog daha
Ruke vične svijanju suludoga spleta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
U kosu se spusti pupoljasta mrena
Gine snagom vida od dodira trena
Kose vične svijanju osijedjelog svijeta
Kad kesten dvaput procvjeta
1997.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Haci Bektas Veli..
I come to you to bend the neck
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
I always remember the way it deserves path
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Familiar way to the path of
Yesevi have himmet
We dived into the universe with love
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Addressed in the language of a waist
Whether the road came to profess
Yes, even if said
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
We had a treasure drops
Haq, Muhammad Ali chose
Shirt reaped more than
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Such a İnce son, made the
Safety can flesh is dead
Suluca Höyük come
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
by sabit ince
Sabit Ince in Anatolia poetry Anthology (2001)
Submitted by Sabit Ince
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Haci Bektas Veli
Haci Bektas Veli..
I come to you to bend the neck
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
I always remember the way it deserves path
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Familiar way to the path of
Yesevi have himmet
We dived into the universe with love
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Addressed in the language of a waist
Whether the road came to profess
Yes, even if said
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
We had a treasure drops
Haq, Muhammad Ali chose
Shirt reaped more than
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
Such a İnce son, made the
Safety can flesh is dead
Suluca Höyük come
Haci Bektas Veli premium..
by sabit ince
poem by Sabit Ince from Anatolia poetry anthılogy (2001), translated by Sabit ince
Submitted by anonym
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O! Spring
O! Spring
Come O! Storm of spring with prowess of youth
Come at budded life of spring coloring the mind
Young soul come
Come being sprinted on leafless tree.
Come O! Spring, come with fierce storm
Come singing the song of earth and man.
Burring fire in eyes offering great homage of block
Downing own self may be own
The sorrow, the hardship, the agitated way-
Great soul of heavenly happiness is sleeping at every seed
Fruit or seed first- who will answer?
As essential the sun the woman is to that extent.
Does river loses its soul when mix with sea?
Does every cloud cusses rainfall?
O! Spring, through any road you move
Homage of flower blooms at every road of those!
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Arbor Amoris
I have a tree, a graft of Love,
That in my heart has taken root;
Sad are the buds and blooms thereof,
And bitter sorrow is its fruit;
Yet, since it was a tender shoot,
So greatly hath its shadow spread,
That underneath all joy is dead,
And all my pleasant days are flown,
Nor can I slay it, nor instead
Plant any tree, save this alone.
Ah, yet, for long and long enough
My tears were rain about its root,
And though the fruit be harsh thereof,
I scarcely looked for better fruit
Than this, that carefully I put
In garner, for the bitter bread
Whereon my weary life is fed:
Ah, better were the soil unsown
That bears such growths; but Love instead
Will plant no tree, but this alone.
Ah, would that this new spring, whereof
The leaves and flowers flush into shoot,
I might have succour and aid of Love,
To prune these branches at the root,
That long have borne such bitter fruit,
And graft a new bough, comforted
With happy blossoms white and red;
So pleasure should for pain atone,
Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead
Plant any tree, but this alone.
L'ENVOY.
Princess, by whom my hope is fed,
My heart thee prays in lowlihead
To prune the ill boughs overgrown,
Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead
Another tree, save this alone.
poem by François Villon
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When Spring Goes By
The winds that on the uplands softly lie,
Grow keener where the ice is lingering still
Where the first robin on the sheltered hill
Pipes blithely to the tune, "When Spring goes by!"
Hear him again, "Spring! Spring!" He seems to cry,
Haunting the fall of the flute-throated rill,
That keeps a gentle, constant, silver thrill,
While he is restless in his ecstasy.
Ah! the soft budding of the virginal woods,
Of the frail fruit trees by the vanishing lakes:
There's the new moon where the clear sunset floods,
A trace of dew upon the rose leaf sky;
And hark! what rapture the glad robin wakes-
"When Spring goes by; Spring! Spring! When
Spring goes by."
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
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A Day For You To Come-Dan Da Dodješ Ti
when the winds denied the air
the fences broke set the rivers free
into infinity
the sorrowed stirred the rainbow colours
into taintedness
it's all gone to wait
for the day for you to come
kad se vjetar odrekao vazduha
popucale brane razlile rijeke u beskraj
tuga izmješala dugine boje
u razlivenost
sve je otišlo da sačeka
dan da dođeš ti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Long Bough
A bough sank down on a fence, and fell asleep –
so shall I sleep.
The fruit has fallen; and what do I care
for my root and stock?
The fruit has fallen, the flower is long forgotten,
only leaves remain.
One day a storm will rage and they will fall,
casualties, to earth.
Afterwards, terrible nights.
No respite, no sleep.
I wrestle alone in darkness, batter
my head on the wall.
Spring will blossom again. Only I
hang on to my stem –
bald shoot with no bud and no flower
no fruit and no leaf.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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Sideroad/Krajputasica
Darkness winged in forebodings paths
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
You were lived away endlessly
In hidden pain you drummed
A star paved Sideroad made by raindrops
With raindrops into streams flown away away
Swelling in the duration strength
A little necklace of death
Around your neck
The circles of time you spinned
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
In dusty steps you crafted noise
A rusty gates steal made
Opened despite the fear
The eyes always staring behind
Behind and behind
Unnoticed by endless mirrors
Misty clouds you lifted
Within a never ripe enough eyes
For the revelation
Tied within the revealed
In an invisible veil chain
What you’ve been lived away for
Endlessly
Self facing
In hidden pain you drummed
A lightful road made in darkness
Labyrinth of paths for whom the reward
For what, which efforts
Spasmodically embracing you held
Spasmodically embraced and nailed
The hope drunk from its own yearning
A star made Sideroad
In raindrops held
The rain filled with the mind
Long time forgotten by the window pane
Glass smashed
The strength of entrance under the eaves
The trace of a swelling pourdown
A roaring downflight waterfall
In raindrops into streams flown away away
Pour down pour down pour down
Fill in the emptiness of the heart
The hands unembraced hanged around
Darkness winged forebodings paths
A necklace of death around your neck
The circles of time you spinned
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
Putanjom slutnji raskriljen mrak
Medaljonom skriven uvojak kose
Ko beleg poč etka za šta rođ ena bi
Za šta odživljena u nedogled
Skrivenim bolom dobovala si
Krajputašice zvjezdana od kišnih kapu stvorena
Od kišnih kapi u potoke odlivena
Snagom trajanja nabujala
Lanč ić od smrti oko vrata
Godove vremena uvijala si
Medaljonom skriveni uvojak kose
Ko beleg poč etka za šta rođ ena bi
Stopama prašnjavim stvarala zvuk
Zarđ ale dvijeri od č elika
Uprkos strahu otvarala
Pogledom što uvijek zuri iza
Iza u nedogled beskrajnih ogledala neprimjeć ena
Oblake magle raskrivala
U nikada dovoljno sazrelim oč ima
Za otkrivenost
Otkrivenošć u vezana
Ko lancima vela nevidljim
Za šta odživljena u nedogled
Suoč enošć u
Skrivenim bolom dobovala si
Tminom sazdana svjetlopuni put
Lavirintom staza od koga nagrada
Za šta koja pregnuć a
Zagrljajem grč evito držala si
Zagrljajem grč evito stegnuta
Nado pijana od sopstvene č ežnje
Krajputašice zvjezdana
U kišnoj kapi držana
Umom ispunjena kišo
Odavno oknom zaboravljena
Staklom polomljena
Snagom ulaska pod strehama
Trag od nabujalog sipanja
Sipaj sipaj sipaj sipaj
Ispuni prazninu srca
Ruke nedogrljene obješene
Oko putanji slutnji raskriljenim mrakom
Lanč ić od smrti oko vrata
Godove vremena uvijala si
Medaljonom skriveni uvojak kose
Ko beleg poč etka za šta stvorena bi
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Waiting For Spring
Though cloudy skies, and northern blasts,
Retard the gentle spring awhile;
The sun will conqu'ror prove at last,
And nature wear a vernal smile.
The promise, which from age to age,
Has brought the changing seasons round;
Again shall calm the winter's rage,
Perfume the air, and paint the ground.
The virtue of that first command,
I know still does, and will prevail;
That while the earth itself shall stand,
The spring and summer shall not fail.
Such changes are for us decreed;
Believers have their winters too;
But spring shall certainly succeed,
And all their former life renew.
Winter and spring have each their use,
And each, in turn, his people know;
One kills the weeds their hearts produce,
The other makes their graces grow.
Though like dead trees awhile they seem,
Yet having life within their root,
The welcome spring's reviving beam
Draws forth their blossoms, leaves, and fruit.
But if the tree indeed be dead,
It feels no change, though spring return,
Its leafless naked, barren head,
Proclaims it only fit to burn.
Dear Lord, afford our souls a spring,
Thou know'st our winter has been long;
Shine forth, and warm our hearts to sing,
And thy rich grace shall be our song.
poem by John Newton
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A Twig Alighted
A twig alighted on a fence and dozed;
So do I sleep.
The fruit fell and what have I to do with my trunk,
What with my branch?
The fruit fell, the flower is already forgotten,
The leaves survive.
One day the storm will rage, they will drop.
To the ground, dead.
Afterwards, the nights of dread go on,
No rest or sleep for me,
Alone I thrash about in the dark, smashing
My head against my wall.
And again spring blossoms,
And alone I hang from my trunk
A bare shoot, without bud or flower,
Without fruit or leaf.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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And that the thought was just another day/I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan
And that the thought was just another day
No one has said as yet
An unsaid one that cracks with the boughs
Still being dawned for a day to be
I knew for
The outbreak slippery among the fingers
Pours down the beads of sunbeams through the clouds
No one has said as yet
The sides of the world folded on a sheet of paper
An origami of unspreadedness
Unwritten hours sealed in emptiness
On the first geometry class where we will learn
We're perhaps a square with headless points
Marked ABCD
In an alphabet of beheaded words
No one has said as yet no one has dared
The distant counting of Euclid's vows
Xenon's accounts and Pythagoras' secrets
Hung around the neck of a bird
That due to gold of knowledge cannot fly
No one has shaped as yet
A mathematical axiom at the top part of an operational table
Edged by formulae algorhithms
By which Reason the mother of order
Protectively hides the chaos of the possible
We'll be silent about the tents
Under which we've hidden security particles
Precious dust of knowledge in the urn light we'll store
We'll be silent about the warm blankets of thoughts
Covering dreams in an early morning
The marbles of small deceptions the spherical many colouring
We could be stolen them all
And to stand like nothing facing the loveless world
Only Love can do
Who we've never been enough
I da je misao bila još samo jedan dan
Niko rekao nije
Nedorečen što s granjem puca
A za riječ osvanut znala sam jer
Svanuće klizavo medj prstima
Brojanice sunčevih zraka kroz oblake sipa
Niko nije rekao
Na listu papira presavijene stranice svijta
Origami neotklopljenosti
Neispisivanjem sati zapečaćen u prazno
Na prvom času geometrije gdje saznaćemo
Da možda smo samo naučen kvadrat obezglavljenih tjemena
Obilježenih ABVG
Azbukom odrubljene riječi
Niko nije rekao niko nije smio
Daleka prebrojavanja Euklidovih zavjeta
Zenonovih računa Pitagorinih tajni
O vrat ptice obješenih
Što od zlata znanja otežala ne može da leti
Niko nije oblikovao
Matematički aksiom na vrhu operacionog stola
Oivičen formulama algoritmima
Kojim Razum majka reda vješto prikriva
Haos mogućeg
Prećutaćemo šatore pod kojim
Skrili smo truni sigurnosti
Dragocjeni prah saznanja u urnu laku pohraniti
Prećutaćemo toplu ćebad misli
U rano jutro snom pokriveni
Klikere sitnih obmana male šarene sferičnosti
Sve bi mogli nam ukrasti
A stajati k'o ništa spram svijeta bez ljubavi
Može samo Ljubav
Koja nikad dovoljno nismo
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Second of Evil
Second of Evil
Battle bee, you are second of evil
Why so much whispering with flower?
Flower comes of flower
Seed comes of fruit
Are all these your deeds?
Affection of soil installs life at road towards Tamarisk tree.
Love of season causes the fair of flower.
If sun does not rises tomorrow
Then what will be done of battle bee?
Battle bee what you whisper with flower?
Only god knows which came first the tree or the seed.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Pluck A Plum Where There Is No Tree
PLUCK A PLUM WHERE THERE IS NO TREE
God who freed
from fruit the seed
can pick a pear
from a baby tree.
God who sired
the hallowed fig
does harvest fruit
from a barren sprig.
God made blooms pastel
and bright fruits
and can a kumquat take
from a tree of quince.
Who made Pluto and
the Pleiades
can pluck a plum
where there is no tree.
================================ =====
(to Senator George Mitchell
.. tireless worker for peace
in America and Europe)
The Sanskrit word for the Wish
Fulfilling Tree is Asritakalpalateeka.
It is spoken of in Revelation.. the
tree with 12 kinds of fruit.)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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From The Same Tree
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit....
From the same tree
the good fruit goes to the market
the bad fruit...to the soil.
From the same tree
is the reason for the lonely farmer
to wake up each morning
to see how the fruits grow well...
and is the reason for the lonely farmer
for not winning the heart of his beloved
who prefer the city life
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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O You Beautiful Flower
O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth blossoming shower
In spring’s new light
Ground is your embrace
With the sun radiance
Each bud is of grace
And splendor appearance
Light wind singing bell
Will swing your sprout
Like a sway carrousel
In its movement about
A dance of new spring
In meadows of green
To ground now sing
Of budding fresh scene
Rose-tinted so fine
Under blueness of sky
Your growth in sunshine
Now mounting so high
O you beautiful flower
Of pinkish and white
Earth sweetest endower
And spring’s delight
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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A Bit Of Sense
a bit of sense in your shoes
walk earth in the trace of blues
the step of fear and the first of silence
malo smisla u cipele
hodaj zemljo tragom plave slutnje
korakom bojazni i prve slutnje
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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That Night Was Longer Than My Breath
I threw the questions down the streams
From the pale apple of the Moon’s eye
I tore the sights of the world
With the bare boughs of my own fingers
I dived into the breathing of hours
There was with me the treetop of mist beating
Carried the moonlight bough glow
Across the woods I whispered the cold
Hidden within the gorges of the world
Down the abyss of my own lips
Pushed down
That night was longer than my breath
And when the dawn sweated over my brow
Hints cracking alongside my hair
Could not patchwork the morning smile
Ta noć mi je bila duža od daha
Niz potoke pitanja bacih
Iz bliede zjene Mjeseč evog oka
Potrgah prizore svijeta
Sa golim granjem rođ enih prstiju
Uronih u disanje sati
Samnom je kucala krošnja od magle
Na granama ponijela mjeseč ast sjaj
Po šumama studen prošaptah
U vrleti svijeta skrivena
Niz obronke rođ enih usana
Survana
Ta noć mi je bila duža od daha
A kad mi se svitanju orosilo č elo
Sa kosom dok su mi pucale i slutnje
Nisam znala jutru da zakrpim osmjeh
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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