Poetry
ON THIS PAGE, YOU CAN READ MORE OF MY POETRY.
when Mother wrapped our country
into her bundle and abandoned her own self
so that my naval would not be tied
to the rope of war…
But
our nightly meals became
the hourly news of war.
Our cells recognized their
own exile in our suffering,
pain and wounds.
We had never traveled before,
but at age nine
I learned
the absurdity of geography.
At fourteen I untied mother’s bundle.
Its aroma enfolded me,
returned me
to my forefathers.
Now, my country is not
just the news of war; it is a madness
of geography that courses through my veins.
It’s a two-edged blade:
Death and Death.
war’s geography calls you
to arms.
The enemy has no signs,
counter-signs,
colors
signals
symbols!
Load poems like guns —
each moment is loaded with
bombs
bullets
blasts
death-sounds —
death and war
don’t follow rules
you can make your pages into white flags
a thousand times
but swallow your words,
say no more.
Load your poems —
your body —
your thoughts —
like guns.
The schoolhouses of war rise up
within you.
Maybe you
are next.
Last night in the streets someone put God up for sale
on a vendor’s cart.
Prospective buyers came by as she called,
Buy God, Buy God,
spread his fragrance everywhere.
That’s what the girl who sold God said.
The city is filled with secular trees,
monkeys who speak with accents of women and trees.
People here sow fortunes they don’t have
for love;
their blithe smiles drunk
on happiness all night.
My hair has breathed as long as my days.
Here, even the sun’s slaps are pleasant
and I have reconciled with bright colors:
reds
yellows
greens.
My hue is a hopeful white,
my democratic thoughts having forgotten that this
Is a town where people fall in love with the smell of both
poverty and ginger.
2010
Своё сердце доверю дорогам скитаний…
И два мира омою слезами страданий.
Пусть я плачу, но твёрдой рукой
Путь закрою к возврату свиданий.
Ухожу, чтобы в горе себя позабыть,
Сердце, душу свяжу я без громких стенаний.
В мир опасный пойду я навстречу мечте,
Но не буду искать для себя оправданий.
Я из сердца уставшего вырву тебя,
Плотно двери закрыв от твоих притязаний.
2008 год
पिँजडामा थुनिएको चरा/घरभित्र झुन्डिएको पिँजडा/सडकछेउमा घर/घर यो विश्व जगत्मा/अहो, कत्रो ठूलो जेलखानमा/म सास फेरिरहेकी छु !’
targeted his heart
but all he could think
of was the kohl
around his lover’s eyes
cascading in his absence on her fate.
Somaia Ramish
Translation by Soleh Wolpe