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Algeria
كــن حبيبــي
في عينيك أرى نفسي
وأغرق في دمــوعك
كم أرغب أن تكــون
بقربــــي
حقك علي
في حاجة إلى حبك
ليستقبلنــي قلبــــك
كملكـة وملك
أريـد أن تصدقنـــي
أريـــد أن ترينــــي
إذا استعد
هــــذا مــن حقـــــي
آه كـم أحب صوتـك
وضحكتـــك بصـــدق
لا أعلم
لما أنت وحدك
Translation to French :
SOIS MON AMOUR
Dans tes yeux je me vois
Dans tes larmes je me noie
Je veux tant que tu sois
Près de moi
Ton pardon je te dois
Ton amour j’ai besoin
Que ton cœur me reçoit
Comme un reine et un roi
Je veux que tu me croies
Je veux que tu me voies
Alors prépare-toi
C’est mon droit
Oh combien j’aime ta voix
Et ton rire â ma foi
Je ne saurai pourquoi
Seulement toi.
Warda Zerguine
WARDA ZERGUINE was born in GUELMA ( ALGERIA)
She is poetess, writer and journalist.
She writes poems in Arabic, French and English.
https://atunispoetry.com/2020/06/12/be-my-love-poem-by-warda-zerguine-algeria/
Bangladesh
Another try
Sometime,
I am not afraid of life
nor afraid of death.
But I think,
what will happen
after our death.
Will there someone waiting for you
Someone else will be mine
or will we become dust
or a molecule with an endless life.
How far we will travel
how many galaxies
how many stars
will you read my poems
when I will be the universal traveler.
Shall I feel this loneliness while
traveling star after star.
I want this human life back
with another try.
You will sit with me
I will sit beside.
And that will be time for our divine love
without endless cry.
© Tareq Samin
Tareq Samin is a Bangladeshi Poet, Writer and Editor. He is author of six books. Nature, Love and humanism are central to his work. https://atunispoetry.com/2019/01/28/tareq-samin-bangladesh/
Cameroun
1
Coronavirus -
Si le monde pouvait être contaminé
Par l'amour
2
L'ado gronde sa mère -
Je range soigneusement dans la poche de mon jeans
La photo de ma mère décédée
3
Echo de la mer
Au lointain une pirogue s’en va
Encore combien s’en vont mourir ?
Sylvain NANAD ( CAMEROUN )
Sylvain NANAD est comptable de formation. Après quelques pas dans la musique en tant que parolier, slameur et chanteur, il se lance dans l'écriture de la poésie et participe à plusieurs Anthologies de haïkus, Tankas Et poésie contemporaine. '' La fragilité des sens'' et ''NAMI'' sont ses recueils publiés
https://www.facebook.com/nanad.artiste https://www.facebook.com/sylvain.nanadauteur
Canada
SÉRÉNADE AUX ÉTOILES
Les blés d'or se sont couchés pour la nuit
et les étoiles n'ont pas bronché d'un rayon
ont préféré lire ce poème tout cru
à la lueur d'une lanterne le soir venu
au bout d'un chemin que les poètes
ont emprunté un soir d'été
les coeurs ivres ont répandu des mots
sur la voie craquelée d'indifférence
ont poursuivi leur ode aux étoiles
qui chaque nuit en point lumineux
ont l'audace de visiter les vers
du plus bas jusqu'au plus haut
© Huguette Bertrand -
Poète et éditrice canadienne, Huguette Bertrand a publié de nombreux ouvrages de poésie dont plusieurs en collaboration avec des artistes en art visuel et photographie. Ses poèmes ont paru dans diverses revues et anthologies internationales imprimées et en ligne. Certains de ses poèmes ont été traduits en plusieurs langues.
China
The cup full of the spring was in sight
it a part of my body
I try to drink it
But when i tried to drink it
The glass was empty
Where did the water go
In no time?
Is the existence
no more than a glass of water?
It's a mystery, it's confusion
What happened?
Yesterday, I was here at the same time
and filled the glass
Would the water not have disappeared
if I had remained here?
Was my mind trapped in the glass
Or?
Anna Keiko, China
Translation: Germain Droogenbroodt
Anna Keiko is a Chinese poet, member of the Pudong Writers Association president of the Shanghai Huifeng Literature Association. Her poetry has been published in many national and international magazines. She participated at several prestigious international poetry festivals.
The Next station
A Little Petunias
in the evening light
More serene
High-speed trains go through
the mountain village
Don't roar
To wake up
a dream
a pale purple dream
Mei Fangzi (China)
Translated by Bai Shui ( New Zealand)
Mei Fangzi, formerly known as Sun Yunqing, Member of Shanghai Writers Association.
He published more than 20 books. He is an editor and president of the Gown Poetry Club.
The Gale
strong wind carried the mountains and rivers, and the hometown not move
The gale moves the night, the stars stay still
The wind carrying the road and it is still in the distance
The wind carrying the temple, the faith not changed
The strong wind carried the dynasty, people did not move
The wind is carrying the face, love-still
The wind does not need a direction, nor need to arrive
Blow, blow in all directions, bite your teeth, like scraping
Scrape the sky with blood and blood, and scratch the ground
But I couldn’t straighten my bowed waist
Not to blow me into you, blow black into white
Those who show their original shape in the wind are exposed by themselves
The wind shadowless, even more speechless
What can be seen is not the wind, but things that show their strength by the wind
Or the shell the soul took off
The wind can't take rooted things away
the smallest grass, wings flying in the sky
There are also flames rooted in people's hearts, no matter which direction the wind coming from
Even typhoons, whirlwinds, and all winds can’t put it out
And the greater the wind, the faster the flames grow
Li Li (China)
Translated by Bai shui (New Zealand)
Li Li, his real name is Li Yusheng, poet and critic. Member of the Chinese Writers Association, vice president of the World Poetry Art Federation,deputy director and jury of the Jin Qingteng International Poetry Competition. Editor-in-Chief of "Shenzhen Poetry" magazine.
Tether
During the fetal period
My mother tied me up with an umbilical cord
In the baby time
She tied me with a cloth rope
Later
She tied me with cooking smoke air
After then
with her white hair
Today, I use 10 million infusion tapes
But can't catch her, my Mum
My Niang*
(Niang, it is the name of the mother in informal way.)
Feng Limin (China)
Translated by Bai shui (New Zealand)
( this poem describes the love between Mum and Son. When the son getting older and his mum was dying in the hospital with millions droppers on her body. But they could not save her
life and finally she was gone.)
Feng Limin is a Chinese poet was born in 1970s, his poems were published in "Stars", "Poetry Monthly", "Selected Poems", "YanHe", "Flying Sky", "Years" and other magazines, he has been published 3 books.
The Word war
He saw the words of the gun and dagger flying in the crowd
The vortex of the lips is choppy
In the world of words, there are many flames in the world
He was suddenly in the suspended mirror of time
Saw his stupidity
For more than 20 years, he can see honey and can't see the sword
Can see the cotton, can't see the needle
Now finally got
A pair of fire eyes, kicked the alchemy furnace
He swallowed the sugar coating and threw the bomb back
Regained the dignified rivers and mountains
Standing above the solid city
Watching with a detached attitude
They are fighting so bloody
"Small" exposed under the leather robe
Seeing them like this
Exhausted limited life in the war of meaningless words
finally, he couldn't bear it anymore and shouted—
look, guys!
Are the losers in the war of words the real losers?
Are the winners in the war of words the real winners?
Then, he smiled like a Kaye holding the flowers
Tian Yun (China)
Translated by Bai shui (New Zealand)
This poem describes all the human words standing for some meanings. when the man turned into a mature age he found that it is helpless and useless to use the words for arguments. Its really waste our life. So we should be a person as Buda expected which is "Open the blind eyes , hear nothing, get argument stopped! "
He saw only fighting in the world of words, using those weapons: knife, sword , gun….
20 years later, he got into middle age and he realised that he didn’t totally understand the world as he only accepted the words with good sound before.
Now he knows how to make the good choice by listening to words from different people with different attitude as when you stand on the mountain you can see all the things are small including the humans.
So why do we keep arguing by using the words instead of praising the life itself by using them ?
Tian Yun is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, Master of Philosophy, has won 11 Chinese national poetry awards including the National Silver Award and the National Best Poetry Award. She has authored China’s first urban epic "A long song of Shijiazhuang"
The tutor
Oh mentor
Our land owes a rain
So the sky heavy cloud
Whose luck written on the face
Like countless white ants crawling across the sky
Your words make me shamed
Where there are so many philosophies
Otherwise no beggars everywhere
Oh mentor
His Twitter is less thoughtful
The space full of mob
There was no news about the rain
The sound of Didi Dodi is tortured by woodpeckers
Petrified sky
He wrote the wrong password again
Oh mentor
Wang Fa (China)
Translated by Bai Shui (New Zealand)
This is a criticism (intervention poem). The poem is about:
The tutor that stands as the leader.
Basically, we rely on the sky to have a harvest season. Rain doesn't come down when we need, it's just as unrealistic as ants climbing up to the sky.
Leaders always talk too much about ideas (philosophy), but they do not solve practical problems, that’s why cause poverty for many people.
The blue sky turned into lead grey due to air pollution.,The sky is sick and looks like an iron plate. The woodpecker is a doctor of nature. They keep beating the iron like (petrified) sky and give human a warning.
“the password is wrong again”
But our leaders are still making mistakes.
Wang Fa is a Chinese poet, was born on March 21, 1946 in Fuxing Village, Tangyuan. His poems and novels books were published from 1972. He is an Editor-in-chief of "Genre"and "Sun Pavilion" poetry magazine. Published a book titled "The Tiger in the Northeast".
India
My love is for you only
My love is for you only
It's as strong as stainless steel
Capacitated to bear rough weather remaining in still
It's as pious as Ganges water
Drench in it to feel the effects that you literally matter
My love is for you only
You are my life's perennial fountain
I know you feel me , wish me every now and then
You sing song of our yester years in glee
Kept you me in your cozy heart preventing to flee
My love is for you only
Ethereal is it, prohibiting others to inhale
You are the person who knows it's sap and subtle
My love is for you only
It's silhouette centres around you day long
You are it's only recipient God knows till aeons all along
My love is for you only
Not surreal it is, zephyr whispers it's name in profundity
Birds chirping to greet it disdaining calm and serenity
My love is for you only
I reminisce it's trickling effect that made you insane
You became a maniac fan to allure me , instance of love so mundane!
©® Dr.Alok Kumar Ray
Jajpur. 11.02.20
Dr.Alok Kumar Ray teaches political science to undergraduate and postgraduate students.He is a bi- lingual poet(writes in Odia and English) who frequently writes for a number of national and international journals, periodicals and newspapers.He now resides at the district headquarters of Jajpur in Odisha state, India.
9831756339
A mobile no, rings nowhere
but a peculiar space called mind—
faded memories of its own existence
propagating this, a contact number
like an inward perception of Beethoven’s ‘Moon Light’
ringing cycle after cycle, unceasing…
now reached a stretch, where nothing exists
but a man, alone with his music
and sitting on the benches from a park where
only an expressinistic sketch persists,
always an evening stays,
forever, unfathomable, dark-blue-ash-violet
S T R E A M I N G…
hope he is there still—an unknown radio station
in the suburbs of Ballygaunge
9 Endless
8 perpetual
3 everlasting
1 absolute
7 ceaseless
5 perennial
6 continuous
3 unbroken
3 infinite
9 immutable
putting aside of everything in this world
except only
The
E
S
S
E
N
C
E
OF
M E L O D Y.
It’s too late for an appointment.
Niladri Mahajan
NOTE:
(This poem is written remembering Kishore Chatterjee, a painter, writer and renowned connoisseur of Western Classical music whom I wish to meet for longtime, but he died before we fix our appointment. 9831756339—This was his mobile number.)
Niladri Mahajan is an international award winning bilingual poet, author of Poetry books- "A Diffused Room" and “Aura of Light”
He is a counselling psychologist, living in Kolkata, India. His poems are translated into French, Arabic, Bengali, Japanese, Greek, Mandarin, Soha, Uzbek, Swedish, Romanian, Russian, Spanish, Urdu, Macedonian, and Italian. He is also a PhD student in Bioinformatics of Calcutta University. He is trained in Eastern and Western Classical music, and also participated in three group painting and photography exhibitions in recent past, and he is active as a street photographer and a watercolour artist.
Mauritius
Golden Blue Mauritius
Soft sandy beaches bask in the sunrays
The tropical blue sky’s infinity
reflects its destined union in expands of sea
Beneath the feet rejecting
skin -colour discrimination
and cherishing overall personality as
acceptable definition of beauty,
I welcome you – travellers of all continents
to plunge into the tanning experience
amidst the long-lasting tranquility
of mystic golden blue Mauritius.
Vatsala Radhakeesoon
Vatsala Radhakeesoon was born in Mauritius in 1977. Her 9th poetry book will soon be published and she is currently
working on the 10th one. She also devotes much of her time painting and experimenting in the field of visual art
Morocco
La vie et la mort
Ces poussières de beaucoup de choses essentielles dans nos vies !
Pour certains, la vie a pris du retard par rapport à leur destin.
Pour cet artiste authentique, dont la vie est légère,
Comme une feuille encore jaune de citronnier,
La mort semble fantaisiste, comme un saltimbanque sérieux.
Souvent, avec très peu de mots, nous nous voyons beaucoup, ma vie et moi !
Il y a des jours où il faut se taire pour laisser parler toute seule la vie, sa vie.
Cet homme-moi ?- n’est plus ni moins aimable avec la vie/la sienne propre !
La vie n’est que l’une des très nombreuses lieutenantes, fidèles, de la mort !
Cette virgule de lumière absolue entre la vie et la mort !
Cette virgule de danse absolue entre la vie et la mort !
Cette virgule de bonheur absolu entre la vie et la mort !
Bonjour, mon amie la NDE !
La différence de potentiel entre la vie et la mort,
Vous étonnerait beaucoup, si elle vous était révélée.
La mort et la vie face à face, sympathisent !
L’incompatibilité absolue entre la vie et la mort, est désormais trop lasse !
La vie, on lui trouve une nécessairement une remplaçante dans l’au-delà !
Il existe un code de l’honneur entre la vie et la mort !
La vie et la mort en assemblée plénière.
La mort est debout et la vie assis, côte à côte.
Une étoile filante visible à la fois de la vie et de la mort !
Vie/mort/et tout le tralala/le sort que l’on fait à la mort, est impitoyable !
Et pourtant l’on ne sait rien, de ce qui se passe, après elle,
Ne dit-on pas ‘dans le doute, abstiens-toi ?’.
Mourir en trompant, encore et une ultime fois, la vie !
La mort ? Une simple objection à la vie.
La mort ? Tout d’abord une destination au silence fondamental.
Eh, la mort, prends ma vie, puisque cela te tente tant,
Et laisse-moi enfin en paix !
Abdelmajid Benjelloun
Abdelmajid Benjelloun, né le 17.11.1944, à Fès au Maroc, a publié plus de 250 livres, dans les domaines de la poésie,
de l’aphorisme poétique, du roman, de la nouvelle et de l’histoire.
Est peintre. Fut Président du Centre marocain de Pen International-Londres, de 2009 à fin 2013.
Nepal
Some Zen Poems
1.
The mountain appears much better
Without any garb
For, as you can see well
It doesn’t have a spot
That exposes its honor.
2.
I won’t even want to remember
That flowers are sleeping atop you
In the final episode of time.
3.
What worth is a position of prominence
Like the salty ocean of water?
The lions always drink from freshwater ponds
Bowing the whole of their heads down.
4.
A tree that fell
After enduring innumerable blows
Never knew
That the handle of the axe that felled it
Was made from one of its own branches.
5.
I would rather sit on the floor
For, if I do so
I don’t ever run the risk of falling.
6.
Death troubles everyone
But the rich ones make much fun of it
And say—
He died because he was poor.
7.
No one met anyone else
Before walking a few steps.
I met my own shadow as well
Only after coming out of home into sunshine.
8.
No matter how old it is
A currency note is seldom disposed
Into a dustbin
Poet: Krishna Prasai
English Translation: Mahesh Paudyal
Krishna Prasai is a Nepali poet, essayist and storywriter. He chairs Jara Foundation, a literary and cultural organization of high repute in Nepali. He is also the pioneer of Zen Poetry in Nepal, and his Zen poems have been translated into several international languages including Thai, Sinhala, Bangla, Hindi, Korean, English, German etc.
New Zealand/China
The remembrance of snow
A few snowflakes moved ahead towards JiangCheng*
Gently touched down on the shore, Until end of the year
They were kidnaped by the cruel cold wind
Recruited frantically the soldiers
And prepared horses to raid the city.
Everything was targeted
And no one was to escape
Now each object is covered with pale-whiteness
All faces, even doors and windows are masked
The lockdowns have locked the towns
Horror prevailed over plains and plateaus
From the Yangtze to the farthest end of the globe
Across the four oceans
From one season to another, there is a dance of death.
At the daytime snow seem soft and sporadic
But at night it is as hard as an iron block
I hear squeaking sounds of the branches and eaves being crushed
I hear some noises of avalanches at the distance.
Are they still those elegant elves?
Sobering at midnight, counting the Sheep, stars and days in silence
Peaceful holy moonlight
Shines on the white sheets and walls
with unlimited mercy and grace
People in sleepless plight struggle to pray
Long for the sooner
“The rooster crow louder at dawn… "*
(JiangCheng*: A nick name for Wuhan of China.
“The rooster crow louder at dawn… "*
This sentence was quoted from poem titled "To the Wine" by Lihe who was a poet of Tang Dynasty of China, He describes that when dawn comes, the night ends, all the truth will come out. From the beginning of Coronavirus in Wuhan, it spread to all over the world, People are eager to know the truth where it came from to avoid it happening again in the future.
Sue Zhu, New Zealand
《雪祭》
文／淑文（新西兰）
奔赴江城*的几枚雪花
起初轻轻盈盈，岁毕
寒流虐风的加紧裹挟下
开始疯狂地招兵买马，突袭人世
它们面面俱到，用白刷新一切色彩
从扇扇门窗到封城的口罩
从平川到高原
从长江到四大洋
从一个季节到另一个季节
白昼的雪花，零星而柔软
夜晚却听到它们压断枝条，屋檐
以及远处雪崩
这还是那些飘逸的雪吗？
子夜清醒，沉默地数羊数星星数日子
白月光停留在白色的床单，墙面上
怀有极大的慈悲
无眠人祈祷苦盼，那声
“雄鸡一唱*.....”
江城：中国武汉的别称。
“雄鸡一唱”引自中国唐朝时期李贺的《致酒行》，形容东方破晓，长夜宣告结束，一切真相大白。从武汉的Coronavirus 开始到传播，到它漫延至各地，世界民众最渴望知道的就是它出现的真相，以避免人类重蹈覆辙。
淑文(Sue Zhu),新西兰籍华裔诗人, 绘画者, 企业家。中国诗歌学会会员, 新西兰国学诗词艺术协会理事, 美中文化艺术中心荣誉理事, 多家中文诗社荣誉顾问, 编辑, 中国诗歌比赛中获多种奖项, 有诗作被翻译成英, 法, 马其顿等语言在美国, 新加坡, 日本等国发表。
Sue Zhu, New Zealand Chinese poet, painter, entrepreneur. She is a member of the poetry institute of China, director of NZ Poem Art Association, honorary director of the US-China Cultural Association, advisor of some Chinese poetry clubs, a multi award winner in Chinese national poetry competitions.
Pakistan
AUTUMN'S CALLING
O Man!
The so called rational being
On this planet of life
Though I am gifted to Nature;
Too balance the Nature,
And its presence
Among the Seasons,
And to bestow nature beauty and diversity
But O Man!
Of reasons and imaginations;
There are many lessons
Hidden in presence for you;
O Man --- I teach you
Many diverse and unique lessons;
There is end to every beginning,
There is light following dark,
There is darkness to suffocate light,
There are mysteries following miracles,
There is a life after death,
There is a Death after every life,
There is a beginning of every End,
There is an End to every beginning,
There is a pleasure after suffering,
There is a suffering after every pleasure,
And there blackholes for every presence;
Opening Windows of unknown to every known,
As There is a Spring following my(Autumn) deadness
And there is an Me(Autumn) waiting for every spring
MUHAMMAD AZRAM
Muhammad Azram Poet and Author hails from Pakistan. He is Professionally a IT Pogrammer and Web Developer. His literary work and books continue to be published widely and his poems reside in numerous international anthologies and magazines. His work has been translated into many international languages. He is member of numerous literary organizations and representing Pakistan. He is conferred with many international Awards and literary honors by various International Literary Organizations.
Catalogued
I dreamt seeing you under the rain,
the water never having touched you –
that’s how you came to me, dry
and fresh – the amalgamation of
a leafless tree under summer rain.
I smelled luck on your skin
and became addicted, for rains
drenched me with their decrees;
your un-wet destiny was enchanting.
I used your luck like a secret name,
held it between a book as a fallen leaf
imbibing scriptures for resuscitation.
previously published in Awen (Atlantean Publishing)
Sheikha A.
Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. She is the co-author of a digital poetry chapbook entitled Nyctophiliac Confessions available through Praxis Magazine. More about her published works can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com
Peru
TUS OJOS SE PERDIERON
en las arenas del pasado
lejos de ti
vi luz
renaciendo en oscuridad
I TUOI OCCHI SI SONO PERSI
nelle sabbie del passato
lontano da te
ho visto la luce
rinascere nell'oscurità
Yessyca Ortiz
Lima - Perú
________________________
Yessyca Ortiz è una poetessa peruviana, libera pensatrice, scrive poesie fin dalla giovane età.
Ha anche l’hobby della fotografia e del disegno: la natura nei suoi vari aspetti è il suo soggetto preferito.
https://www.facebook.com/yessyca.ortiz.9
Poland
Recepta na wiersz
Nie jest łatwo napisać wiersz
Trzeba skwapliwie pozbierać myśli
Wirujące szybko jak płatki śniegu w czasie zamieci
Złapać je zanim się roztopią i znikną w niepamięci
Do zdań dodać gorączkę uczuć i siłę emocji
Przyozdobić marzeniami zebranymi
ze srebrnego pyłu spadających gwiazd.
Można jeszcze
wyłowić z dna jeziora melancholijną tęsknotę
i zawiesić na rzęsach by zabłyszczała łzami
następnie zebrać wilgotną mgiełkę smutku
połyskującą jak krople rosy na tatarakach
dodać szarość listopadowego krajobrazu
doprawić odrobiną goryczy i żalu
Albo
Przechwycić śmiech zawieszony przez echo
Pomiędzy wysokimi górskimi szczytami
Złapać w siatkę na motyle wesołe słowa
niesione przez ciepły oddech wiatru
Odwrócić tęczę żeby uśmiechnęło się niebo
Przyprawić szczyptą humoru i radości
Na końcu trzeba uwolnić szalone metafory
Pozwolić im zaczerpnąć kolorów z wyobraźni
Aby wiersz nabrał przezroczystej lekkości
I jak bańka mydlana wzniósł się ponad codzienność
Odleciał w nieznanym kierunku
Alicja Maria Kuberska (Polonia)
Istruzioni per una poesia
Non è facile scrivere una poesia.
Devi rapidamente raccogliere i tuoi pensieri,
che vorticano velocemente
come fiocchi di neve durante una bufera,
prenderli prima che si sciolgano
e scompaiano nel dimenticatoio.
Aggiungere sensazioni di febbre
e di emozioni alle tue frasi.
Arredare con i tuoi sogni
dalla polvere d'argento delle stelle cadenti.
Si può ancora
pescare un desiderio malinconico dal fondo del lago
e appendere alle ciglia le lacrime luccicanti,
poi raccogliere la foschia umida della tristezza
brillante come gocce di rugiada sul calamo,
aggiungere il grigio del paesaggio di novembre,
condire con un po' di amarezza e di rimpianti.
Oppure
Catturare le risate sospese da un'eco
tra le vette alte delle montagne.
Imprigionare nella rete per le farfalle le parole allegre
portate dal respiro caldo del vento,
girare l'arcobaleno in modo che il cielo sorrida,
insaporire con un tocco di umorismo e gioia.
Infine, devono essere rilasciate le metafore folli.
Lasciare che traggano i colori dall'immaginazione
per dare alla poesia una trasparente leggerezza.
Come una bolla di sapone,
può salire sopra la vita di tutti i giorni
Volando via in una direzione sconosciuta.
Translation Joanna Kalinowska
Bio
Alicja Maria Kuberska – born 1960 in Poland, awarded Polish poetess, novelist, journalist, editor.
Romania
The aroma of yesterday
You left me
The aroma of yesterday
gone.
I am very sad.
I stare ,at the walls
and in the silence of my empty room.
You left me
The aroma of yesterday
gone.
I cry silently.
You left me
The aroma of yesterday
gone.
I am disappointment.
I write.
Not for you.
For me.
You left me
The aroma of yesterday
gone.
I am unhappy.
I write ,not for you.
For those who want to read.
Chains.
That
was your love
Mónika Tóth
Mónika Tóth was born in in Covasna on 14th April,1980, graduated high-school in Humanities at Körösi Csoma Sándor in Covasna. She is interested in culture and fond of reading, painting, philosophy and photography.She likes Romanian,Turkish , Russian, South-American and Norwegian literature. She writes Hungarian,Romanian,Turkish and English language.
Singapore
The Painter
And the woman said
to the stranger:
Paint me a sunset sky,
and I will show you
a midnight rainbow.
Upon which,
we will ride
locked
in a fiery embrace
into the heavens
and beyond.
To a secret place
where pain is no more.
To dance
across the galaxy
with shooting stars
for company.
Oh paint me
paint me,
she implored.
Gloria Keh, Singapore
Born in 1952, Gloria Keh is an award winning writer.
She founded Circles of Love in 2008, a non profit charity outreach programme.
Besides writing, Gloria paints and writes poetry.
Slovakia/France
Tourniquet
Tous nos malheurs,
Toutes nos douleurs,
Ne sont qu'un tourniquet.
N'aie pas peur,
Ne les rejette pas.
Tu y laisseras tes empreintes,
Il arrachera quelques pellicules
De ton âme.
Mais ce n'est que pour
Passer du côté lumineux.
Les larmes seront perdues,
Essuyées par le souffle
D’êtres chers.
Asséchées par les coussinets
De la brise.
Les armes seront fondues,
Transformées en étoiles d'acier,
Pour illuminer le silence.
Le calme reviendra
Car nous ne sommes pas
Humains à tort.
Nous sommes humains
Par défaut.
Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova
Viktoria Laurent-Skrabalova est une artiste-poétesse franco-slovaque. Ses livres sont publiés en Slovaquie, en France et en Belgique. Elle participe à plusieurs revues littéraires (Florilège, Ce qui reste, Poésie Première...).
Sweden
THE DRAGONFLY
A shining dragonfly suddenly landed
On my newly written poem
It gazed at me with astonished eyes
And asked somewhat confused
Why am I not in your new poem?
I – who am so beautiful
You paint the summer with such joyful words
With lovely flowers and butterflies
You fill with love each corner of your poems
A new striped dress-coat for the bumble-bee
The nightingale and his evening aria
The fragrance of the apple tree
You write of fabulous summer nights
With the fullest of a full moon
But what about me then? Who am so pretty
With magic colors in all its shades
Who makes pirouettes on the water surface
Like a master of the ballet
You have not yet put me on paper
But if you do you will clearly see
The words you paint with will be enchanted
Just like the loveliest summer myth!
Joanna Svensson
Joanna Svensson – Swedish writer, poet and novelist since her early teens. 5 books of poetry, 2 fiction novels and several international anthologies. Member of Swedish Author Ass. and Polish Writers Living Abroad. 1:st prize in prose in Bucharest 2019. Very active in cultural society. Participates in many festivals around the world.
Tunisia
LUMIERES DE TA SOIF
A la mémoire de Dylan Thomas
Frêle amant des abysses
Tu n’eus jamais peur de danser
Ni chanter au bord des précipices
Pour recueillir dans le sang de ton encre
Les étoiles blessées
Qui avaient besoin des lumières de ta soif
Pour libérer leurs ancres
Pour t’offrir leurs verres
Pour leur offrir tes vers
Se riant des dards de Chronos
Et ses voraces horloges
Mariant vos titubantes nuits
En jardins de miroirs
D’où naissaient chaque jour
Les nouveaux visages des fleurs
Loin des leurres peurs et pleurs
En ivres flammes de papillons
Sur les ailes libres des chemins
De cette magique mer du cygne
Chaussé de vent
Avec ton cœur pour boussole de retour
Vers ton intarissable
Inoubliable chant de phénix
Toi l’éternel enfant
© Mokhtar El Amraoui Le 1er mai 2020
Mokhtar El Amraoui. C’est un poète d’expression française né à Mateur, en Tunisie. Il a enseigné la littérature et la civilisation françaises pendant plus de trois décennies, dans diverses villes de la Tunisie. Passionné de Poésie, depuis son enfance, il a publié quatre recueils. Le premier, en 2010, s'intitule "Arpèges sur les ailes de mes ans", le second, en 2014, "Le souffle des ressacs" et les troisième et quatrième en 2019, successivement « Chante, aube, que dansent tes plumes ! » et « Dans le tumulte du labyrinthe ».
Mon blog poétique http://mokhtarives.blogspot.com/
USA
The Gift They Leave Us
with a Fibonacci sequence*
we
see
aloft
two lovebirds
after the wedding
nuzzling in an evergreen tree
with the breeze they take to the sky
circle and depart
one feather
spirals
to
Earth
Neal Whitman
* 12th century mathematician Leonardo Pisano, also known as Fibonacci, introduced Europe to the Arabic sequence of numbers in which the first two numbers are 0 and 1. Each subsequent number is the sum of the previous two. Fibonacci poems use those numbers for syllable count per line; ergo, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 ad infinitum. Think of the 0 as the pause before starting to read the poem. Many natural formations, such as nautilus marine mollusks and sunflowers, are shaped in this manner.
Neal Whitman resides in Pacific Grove, California. His poetry is inspired by his wife, Elaine's visual-images, and her photography likewise by his word-pictures. Living on the Monterey Peninsula, their life together is nourished every day with a diet of creativity.
USA/China
The magical Sanbao Mountain”
-----Malaysia at a glance
The magical San bao Mountain
Raise the arm of the soul
Like a heavy mast
Towering over the Strait of Malacca
The magical wind from the sea
keep singing softly
Dark clouds lead to a journey to the peace
Also guide me magically
San Bao well of San Bao Tai
Fed those sailors who crossed western ocean
So far, it still pure and sweet
Give a hearty hospitality to the visitors
Stranded joyfulness
Cai Kelin (USA/China)
Translated by Bai Shui (New Zealand)
Cai Kelin is a Chinese poet, original from Suqian, Jiangsu. He has been published six books of poems. Currently living in the United States, editor-in-chief of “Houston Poetry Garden”.
Vietnam
NEW SPRING
Spring comes, spring
goes, and here spring comes again
Many things have passed, and some things remain
In winter cold that is sharp as a knife
As quiet, noisy as the flow of life
Men, you’re burning down
what you once worshipped
Worshipping what you burned - nobody tipped
Is this the way you choose - without pity
Followers with no creativity
I wished to be a painter
of colours
But I was born under black, cold covers
So I couldn't trace joy into my art
Which left me with no place with which to start
I seek greeneries of
harmonious chime
To take with me into purple spacetime
Our lives are as deep as the seas are cold
Like black holes - enormous matter they hold
Đặng Thân
NUOVA PRIMAVERA
La primavera arriva, la
primavera va, e qui la primavera arriva di nuovo.
Molte cose sono passate, e alcune cose sono rimaste.
In inverno il freddo è affilato come un coltello
Silenzioso e rumoroso come il flusso della vita.
Uomini, state bruciando
quello che un tempo adoravate.
Adorando quello che avete bruciato – nessuno è ripagato
È così che scegliete - senza pietà
Seguaci senza creatività
Volevo essere un pittore
di colori
Ma sono nato sotto coperte nere e fredde.
Quindi non ho potuto trovare la gioia nella mia arte.
che mi ha lasciato senza un punto di partenza.
Cerco il verde di un
armonico suono di campanelli
Da portare con me in uno spazio tempo viola
Le nostre vite sono profonde quanto i mari sono freddi.
Come i buchi neri – una enorme massa contengono
(Translated from English by poet Lidia Chiarelli)
Đặng Thân is a notable bilingual poet, fiction writer and essayist of Vietnam. As "the typical figure of Post-Doi Moi Literature", he is also "the best humourist ever". His officially-printed works in various genres have created the utmost important turning-point in writing style of Vietnamese literature.
Risultati del Premio Letterario 2019
