Boris Pasternak, translated by Andrey Kneller When He entered Jerusalem during The Passion Week, on that day, Hosannas resounded with fury, And palm leaves were blocking His way. But days have grown harsher and crueler And love, it seems, lost its command. The eyebrows are frowning rudely, Here, at last, is the postscript, the end. As heavy as...
the checkered game of life
Milton Bradley died May 30, 1911.
Mark Twain and Joan of Arc
by Vachel Lindsay When Yankee soldiers reach the barricade Then Joan of Arc gives each the accolade. For she is there in armor clad, today, All the young poets of the wide world say. Which of our freemen did she greet the first, Seeing him come against the fires accurst? Mark Twain, our Chief, with neither smile nor jest, Leading to war our youngest and our best. The Yankee to King...
by Juan Ramón Jiménez, translated by Robert Bly I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing…Silence…Waves… —Nothing happens? Or has everything happened, and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?
Lighthouse in the Night
by Alfonsina Storni (translation uncredited) The sky a black sphere, the sea a black disk. The lighthouse opens its solar fan on the coast. Spinning endlessly at night, whom is it searching for when the mortal heart looks for me in the chest? Look at the black rock where it is nailed down. A crow digs endlessly but no longer bleeds. ...
Suite espanola op. 47 - leyenda, Isaac Albeniz →
Suite espanola op. 47 - leyenda, Isaac Albeniz, performed on guitar by Gordon Rowland. It’s very haunting and beautiful. Click the title and it will play.
by Indian poet K. Satchidanandan, born May 28, 1946 Every lover is cursed to forget, at least for a while, his woman: as the river of amnesia devours his love. Every beloved is cursed to be forgotten until her secret is trapped in the net of memory. Every child is cursed to grow fatherless, with his hand in the lion’s mouth.