The Song Of The New Era
In the midst of silence,
sounds destruction,
the relentless noise of the falling stars.
By the Eiffel tower,
along the Thames, Ganges, Indus, Amazon,
civilisation suffocates.
Intense earthquake
destructs culture and memoirs,
the new day is ushered.
Original language: Bengali,
Name of the poet : Bitasta Ghosal,
Name of the translator: Spandan Bhattacharyya.
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Related quotes
Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
Poet: Spandan Bhattacharyya
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Thoughts On The Sounds of Silence
The sounds of silence beacons me.
Like the flight of a bumble bee.
For my life is in a quandary. And I am the one who is confused.
All the noise I here has me transfused.
The constant noise is like a cancerous ooze, someone mused.
All this noise has everyone confused.
I pray to God above to bestow me with the sounds of silence.
All human life is in the balance.
With the sounds of silence I believe peace surrounds us.
About this subject I must confess, I need to access.
I must admit that the sounds of silence is for me.
On the sounds of silence many of us do agree
That peace and love needs to be in great balance.
Without the sounds of silence there would be a major imbalance.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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A Way For Love, Peace and Friendship!
How can wars be stopped in the world?
How can love be promoted with peace?
How can friendship be developed among all?
These questions everyone thinks about now;
But what is the way to implement them?
That is the question lingers on forever!
Fighting was based on might in the ancient time;
Now fighting through courts is civilisation here!
Right has become might if you are truthful ever!
Can civilisation stand all tests without culture?
Civilisation sans culture does not stand sure!
Culture inclusive of all aspects needs to be encouraged!
By education culture can be developed everywhere
With the initiative of UNO controlling all nations!
poem by Ramesh T A
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I'll go to the River
If I am in love
I'll go to the river.
Let abodes get flooded
Let lies get evaporated
If I am in love
I'll go to the river.
Let silts get accumulated
Let fields get harvested
For fertility
I'll go to the river.
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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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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A Poem To A Poets!
the poet see crooked
and talk weird too
like a drunk
perdition in his insane!
No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are
The poet say 'Dr. Jivago'?
It means like a movie? No
it means my love for you! ! !
Or he asks yourself, Am I Evil?
No, he does not evil
I am in silence, affirm the poet! ! !
In silence never he will be
BONG, kick the can! ! !
WAR
AAA
RAW
in silence he is!
Trapped in a tower
a terrible place
just for one second to rest
like almost all of us
He said' I gone'
but gone like no one
gone with strenght
strange and revolutionary Poet!
No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Alec Eiffel
Pioneer of aerodynamics
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
They thought he was real smart alec
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
He thought big they called it a phallic
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
They didnt know he was panoramic
Little eiffel stands in the archway
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
Keeping low doesnt make no sense
Sometimes people can be oh so dense
They didnt want it but he built it anyway
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
Little eiffel stands in the archway
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
Keeping low dont make sense
Keeping low doesnt make no-sense
(little eiffel, little eiffel)
Little eiffel stands in the archway
Oh alexander I see you beneath
The archway of aerodynamics.
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crescent Moon Over Over The Eiffel Tower
First I think of Jesus, or not actually Jesus,
but the vapour trail from a jet, which makes
a line across the hard sky parallel with the top
of my window, which makes me think of Apollinaire
who said in a poem that Jesus is the holder
of the world high altitude record, a truly modern
aviator, and that’s how I think of Jesus,
being in Paris and all, the thing with Apollinaire.
But I’m looking at the line the vapour trail makes,
which way up in the sky would form a perfect T
with the tip of the Eiffel Tower (the tip of the
Tour Eiffel sounds better in a poem) if the Tour Eiffel
were a fair whack higher. You know what I mean:
blue symmetries of summer. And then I notice,
and here’s what the poem’s about, when my eyes
are making the imaginary T, just above the point
where my imaginary much higher Tour Eiffel
would meet the vapour trail, a crescent moon.
A crescent moon so thin and faint it’s almost not there
in the hot white Paris sky. But it is there,
and it’s above the Eiffel Tower, pardon,
la Tour Eiffel, and it’s above the vapour trail
that Jesus in a jet has made. What do I learn
from this experience? Well, in two weeks’ time,
if the weather holds, and it should, there’ll be
a fat full moon over Paris, and I’m up the hill
in Montmartre, with a view to fucking die for.
I can see three quarters of the sky, so I’m sure
that around two weeks from now, one way
or another, I’ll be seeing that fat full moon.
And this is a thought that is not at all unpleasant.
poem by Luke Davies
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Bengali In Platforms
Bengali, bengali
Bengali, bengali
No no no
He does not want to depress you
Oh no no no no no
He only wants to impress you
Oh..
Bengali in platforms
He only wants to embrace your culture
And to be your friend forever
Forever
Bengali, bengali
Bengali, bengali
Oh, shelve your western plans
And understand
That life is hard enough when you belong here
A silver-studded rim that glistens
And an ankle-star that ... blinds me
A lemon sole so very high
Which only reminds me; to tell you
Break the news gently
Break the news to him gently
Shelve your plans; shelve your plans, shelve them
Bengali, bengali
Its the touchy march of time that binds you
Dont blame me
Dont hate me
Just because Im the one to tell you
That life is hard enough when you belong here
That life is hard enough when you belong here
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
cause life is hard enough when you belong
Life is hard enough when you belong here
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
Oh...
Shelve your best friends
cause life is hard when you belong here
Oh...
Life is hard enough when you belong
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Things
Art must mount a full-scale attack on language itself,
by means of language and its surrogates, on behalf of the standard of silence.
Susan Sontag.
I talk too much.
The Things are:
a flower
a grain of sand
a spark.
And all together.
Translator bulgarian-english: : Milena Veleva
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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We were a Western civilisation, an English speaking civilisation, both NZ and Australia, and we had all these influences coming from both Great Britain and America to us; sending us their culture in the shape and form of movies and television.
quote by Richard O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being the most striking manifestation of the art of metal structures by which our engineers have shown in Europe, the Eiffel Tower is one of the most striking of our modern national genius.
quote by Gustave Eiffel
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It seems to me that it had no other rationale than to show that we are not simply the country of entertainers, but also that of engineers and builders called from across the world to build bridges, viaducts, stations and major monuments of modern industry, the Eiffel Tower deserves to be treated with consideration.
quote by Gustave Eiffel
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Everyday Banglishman
My name is Mohammod
Amar ma, bath Bangladeshi
Ami Englando born oysi
Amar jonmo bosr is 1991
Ami tea khai na
Only when I am bimar
Soothes the wounded throat
One culture amar left aat dorse
Aroh culture amar dine aat dorse
Torn between du ta culture
Amar bath immigrate horsla in the sixties
In search of the land of dood and modu,
And food and money
Some of my relatives live in Bangladeshes in London,
Much of Tower Hamlet is Bengali territory
Brick Lane, Whitechapel and Shadwell to name a few
With markets selling mangoes, jackfruits, saaris
The smell of meat and fish is not far off
Manuush ar manuush bangla matoin
You see we are suffering, parents don't understand
Only the youth. Being brought up to love Bengali life
In another country.
Also some white folks tell me to go home
England is my home!
Ami jani na where I belong
In the land of my parents
Whose favourite food is curry
Or the land of my birthplace
Whose favourite food is curry
poem by Mohammod Choudhury
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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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Silence and Language
Silence is our original composition and speech
Languages are the dresses we wear;
What we convey and understand remains the same
Despite the various languages we use;
Words are clothed senses in silence;
Once we decipher, understanding dawns,
Silence, peace and bliss pervade us;
What we experience, mean, understand, conceive,
think, utter, listen, perceive, understand, experience
Through languages and communication are in essence the same.
The manifestations of Silence;
Silence is Divine Mood
Lord's Speech;
Communication with our Self is Silence;
Communication with the rest is
Silence wrapped, by language;
We need Silence and Language
Which are supplementary and complementary
In communication and for realization;
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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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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Noise
Sometimes we crave silence
but everywhere there is noise.
The intrusive noise of a blaring radio
or children screaming at one another
at the top of their lungs.
All you want is silence
and all you get is
noise, noise and more noise.
2 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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Composing Silence
i have no desire to be anyone's echo...
nor for anyone to be mine!
original sounds in a sea of sounds,
all composing silence!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Memoirs
Wind blows through my face
They told me there was a falling star
I wait on the silence
To make my wish came true
To erase my illusion
I wait on silence
Silence
………...
Star never falling
Wind still blows, they laugh
Star never fall for me
I kept my illusion on my mind
Just on my deeper mind
Just can miss it but can hold it
Let it be a beautiful memoirs
I don’t know… I still missed but can reach it
Why…
Silence………
Just silence…….
Wind just blows…just blows and laugh