Poems for Dylan Thomas 2023/4th part

 

 

SUEÑOS

 

Sueño con una delicada nube solitaria que vuela

 suavemente entre el cielo oscuro y la tierra húmeda.

Es un espíritu sutil, cambiante humo blanco que se desvanece.

Bajo un monte de sauces ondulantes,

se reúnen los muertos. Hablan  lenguas incomprensibles.

Sus  caras son máscaras que se transforman en otras máscaras

…y en otras, como un caleidoscopio.

Fascinada, los contemplo.

Una piedra cubierta de musgo

atraviesa el vidrio de la ventana.

Estalla en miles de brillos agudos.

Un grito, alguien pronuncia mi nombre en una calle desconocida.

El horror me rodea, corro hacia el vértigo sin límites.

Sin tiempo ni espacio, olvido quien soy.

Veo mis reflejos ramificarse hacia el infinito.

Llega la luz intensa de la mañana…

¿despertar o renacer?

 

 

Alejandra Miranda (2023, Argentina)

 

#dylanday

 

Alejandra Miranda (Argentina): artista visual, escritora y curadora (La Paz, Entre Ríos. Argentina). Directora de cultura de la ciudad de La Paz desde 2015.

SUEÑOS_fotomontaje_ ALEJANDRA MIRANDA

(from an original photo by Nora Summers)

#dylanday

 

 

Carícia da água

Beijo leve como um toque de água

num rosto lacrimoso de menina

olhar profundamente nos teus olhos húmidos

Que enche a minha vida de brilhos 

olhar profundo nos teus olhos desbota o botão do meu peito exala sons de perfumes bíblicos acariciando uma bengala ecléctica 

resido no teu olhar de orvalho

onde apenas sangue se comunica a delícia do teu falar calórico enche este coração de grandeza do mar

resido no teu olhar vivo 

 

Que apaga todas as brasas tóxicas Florescem todos os campos ainda nus teu sorriso de Dylan salva-me.

 

Glória Sofia Monteiro. Cape Verde

 

#dylanday

 

 

 

Glória Sofia Monteiro,1985  from Cape Verde. Poet, editor, writer, novelist majored at the University of Azores (Portugal). Develops various activities in cultural areas, collaborating in numerous websites and magazines.

 

At the gateway to a dreamscape

 

Under the moonlight, unmolested roams the unicorn

manes pure and white

spectres of aureoles

haunt the night-scented lily’s realm.

 

Dreamy quillworts in a dreamy lake

African grass owl with a grayish brown face

contemplating the clouded leopard

and the leopard cat

together happiness they create.

 

Ghostly stag beetles

parade down

the dreamscape’s gateway

and I walk amongst them.

 

Chien Jui-ling, alias Nuria Chien, Taiwan

 

#dylanday

 

 

 

Chien Jui-ling, alias Nuria Chien, member of the Movimiento Poetas del Mundo, a Spanish translator, teacher, and poet, was born in southern Taiwan and loved literature alone. She has participated in international poetry festivals in Peru, Vietnam and Mexico, and was invited to be interviewed in Spanish on the program "Adam's Belly Button" on Peruvian Radio at Lima. She has translated the poetry anthologies “At Dawn”, "The Voyage of the Island" and "Promise" and the novel "Daofeng Inner Sea" into Spanish. The Ministry of Culture subsidizes her works.

 

NEW BRIGHT PATHS

 

 

My hands are green, 

and my words are green.

I look at you.

In the black viscera of the night,

your heart is also green,

and my eyes are filled with rain.

The night is a potion of sorrow.

I remember when your eyes

were a tree 

of enchanting birds.

Now, the dew inside me 

pushes me into new bright paths

of a glowing song

echoing in my dreams.

 

Maria do Sameiro Barroso (Portugal)

 

#dylanday

 

 

Maria do Sameiro Barroso (Portugal) is a Medical Doctor, a Germanist and a multilingual and awarded poet, translator, essayist, a scholar and researcher in Portuguese and German Literature, Translations Studies and History of Medicine

 

 

My Dream

 

If I can keep a thing that I feel desire to have,

If I take its time, and can hamper it a bit…

If I can just take a seat today, in this street.

And can question one by one my old and old habits…

If I make merry to my heart's content, with the filled wine glass.

And fall into thinking, If I have a small dog,

That barks at those whom I put up with,

Or if a cat scratches at whom I lost faith in…

If the old years come back and wake up the sleepy past...

If you are mine again, If I break the rules of the love games again,

If we are pig-headed If I am “as pure as the driven snow”- as you called me like that.

If I am a little bit younger And a bit babe in the wood…

 

Nigar Arif, Azerbaijan

 

#dylanday

 

 

 

Nigar Arif is a prolific poetess from Azerbaijan, born in 1993. She holds a degree in English from Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University and has completed a youth writers' school program. Nigar Arif is a member of “Azerbaijan Writers’ Union”, “World Union of Young Turkish Writers”, “İnternational Writers’ Union in Kyrgyzstan”, “Writers Union of Central Asia” and the “International Forum for Creativity and Humanity” in Morocco and has had her poetry published in multiple languages around the world. 

 

Нева

 

Нева, могучая Нева!

Как глубока та синева,

С которой ты бежишь вперед,

Встречая запад и восток…

 

Нева, моя Нева,

Воспоминаний ты река,

Моих, чужих, в потоке лет,

И волны смоют их секрет…

 

Нева, всегда Нева

На всей планете ты одна,

Несись вперед моя река,

Ломая льды, ловя ветра…

 

Neva

 

Neva, mighty Neva!

How deep is this blue,

With which you run forward,

Meeting the West and the East…

 

Neva, my Neva,

You are a river of memories,

Mine, others', in the stream of years,

And the waves will wash away their secret…

 

Neva, always Neva

You are the only one on the whole planet,

Rush forward my river,

 

Breaking the ice, catching the wind…

 

Alexander Kabishev Konstantinovich, Russia

 

 #dylanday

 

 

Alexander Kabishev Konstantinovich (K. A. K.)  (Russia) is a poet and writer, a volunteer journalist of the POET magazine, editor-in-chief of the student magazine HUMANITY. Member of the Russian Union of Writers in the city of St. Petersburg.  https://www.facebook.com/alexander.kabishev.7

 

 

With a sigh of love,

I woke you from an old painting

That adorned the wall of my dream.

I tore your sad fate

And handcuffed it to the side

Of the dark spectre

Of an ancient chimera.

 

Through longing you came down,

And swiftly you ran,

By the feather that slept in my hand

And hovered sweetly,

On a dusty leaf

That in mad utopia

Had fled from a scratchy notebook.

 

I gazed at you, and you beseeched me

With hyperboles I could clothe you,

And with rosy veils I might wrap

Your fair naked body,

And from a tragic and raw fate

To make you reborn

On the face of a new canvas.

 

I touched you with my pen

And on your body I placed

My most beautiful illusion.

In metaphors I wrote you

On your lap with watercolour,

And in moonlight colour I painted

The most tender allegory.

 

And with a touch of magic

I transformed you, Woman

In my most beautiful Poetry!

 

 

 

I DREAMED I WAS A CHILD

 

The night dawned satin-lined,

I lay in it, and fell asleep.

I dreamed I was a child

Who carried hope

In the innocent smile

That sprang sweetly

From the soul of who I once was.

I stared lost on the road

With vacant gaze on nothing,

But believing that on the way

Was awaiting for me the chance

To find who I am.

From my soul I broke the mirror

Where my Self was lodged

And in a piece of me

I saw what I am today

In the vacant gaze on nothing

Of the child I once was

Who continues to seek me

On the side of that road

 

 

 

Isilda Nunes, Portugal

 

#dylanday

 

 

Isilda Nunes (Portugal) is a writer, poet and plastic artist who has been awarded with more than a hundred prizes and recognitions. She is part of the board of directors of several cultural movements and among other positions she is Founder of the Association of the World Union of Writers and Artists

 

September Garden

 

A simple thing—

Taking it slowly,

I’ll make my garden in my body.

There, your rose will bloom.

I am in each petal—

The radiance of your rose is also within me.

 

Maki Starfield, Japan

 

#dylanday

 

 

Maki Starfield is a Japanese poet, painter, and translator, born in Ehime, Japan in 1972. She

received her MA from Sophia University, where she studied International Business Management

and TESOL. Maki recently published her second poetry collection, titled "In Love A Sound."

 

Ink Sleep

 

reread the birds to the sky!

now sorrow opens all roads

every defeated woman is a cold deer

your silence is not the clay in my eyes

a window that opens from the outside to the night inside

we'll be trapped in a rose now

cherry blossoms raise my voice

 

the sky bends a little more into the desert with every dying bird

children are already a dreamless sleep

train tracks… go!.. the last thing a cat wants

When there is no sound from the wells where I read my heart

to the sky that touched my heart with the pain of sorrow

I offer huge shooting stars inside me

 

may my aching heart not be ashamed of its wound in autumn

a bird draws tears in my inner night

If I'm your brother, everything you find futile

It was for a fairy tale that would be enough for every child's sleep

I saw my mother dead in my dream

crying reminded me of waking up

on a festive morning

looking at my balloon that I missed in the sky

my cry…

 

Murat Yurdakul, Turkey

 

#dylanday

 

Murat Yurdakul is a Turkish poet, short story writer, and translator. He has published his works, including poems, short stories, and translations  in several magazines.

In 2018, Yurdakul was named the best translator in the British Journal of Modern Poetry Translation.

He was also awarded the XIII International Premio Vitruvio Poetry Award and the VI International

Città Del Galateo Literary Story Award in Italy. In 2019, he participated in the Casa Editrice Cento

Verba short story collection in Italy, and in 2020, he was awarded the Tarık Dursun K. Story Award

3rd Prize by the Homeros Literature Awards.

 

 

Amanecer contigo

 

La fuerza de tus alas me abrigan

dándome calor para habitar mis heridas

el ingrediente secreto en aquel hechizo de amor

fue destilar mis mieles en tus labios

mientras jugaba aquella lágrima en el umbral

había una danza majestuosa de mis lunas llenas plateadas

ante el canto del colibrí nocturno

con alas traslúcidas en pleno vuelo y pecho transparente

que dejo ver tu canto colorido

aquel rayo de luz entró en mis pupilas

que me hizo recitar el hechizo de amor

mientras tus alas me daban calor.

 

©️María Herrera, Guatemala

 

#dylanday

 

 

 

 

María Magdalena Herrera Reyes [1986, Huehuetenango, Guatemala]. Caminante, mujer,  madre, artista y activista. Reside en California.  Publicada en  revistas y antologías nacionales e internacionales. Campeona 2021, Poetry Slam Guatemala. su primer poemario La Oscuridad de los relojes, Cafeina Editores Aguacatan, Huehuetenango, Guatemala 2022.

 

 

Scrub scrape

Scrub scrape

Each corner

Of each eye

Gaze the sky

Heal

Efface the ‘why’

Quietly live,

Await the final

Goodbye-

Or shoo away

The thought of suicide

And choose right,

Decide to fight:

Do not go gentle

Into the night,

Do not go gentle

Into the night.

 

Amita Sanghavi, Oman

 

 

#dylanday

 

Amita Sanghavi teaches at Sultan Qaboos University, Muscat. She writes a blog and has a YouTube channel

https://youtube.com/@amitasanghvi

 

She lives in Muscat, Oman.

 

  

To Begin At The Beginning 

 

Some of the dead in glitter-clad sandals

still walk on pesky grass of crumbly earth, 

that I, full of secret loves and old pals,

to what it is worth, I am back and forth.

It seems the Pinoy that still lives inside 

of me wishes elders to safe havens 

in the colors of their sunset with pride.

Sleepless muse, of other bards, good heavens! 

Potent dementia waxes and troubles

the memory so much that I’ll never 

stop filling in daily crossword puzzles.

O God, at last I am yours, forever! 

Sweet mercies of blue sky in my heart stay

that with energy and reason to rave

I dream a dream, doing nothing all day 

but sit and stare straight ahead of wind wave

retreating into the unbeknownst past. 

Anyone who dares my pain is a soul, 

but just a loser, I say, for I rush

no more to wear it; each day is a toll

on the poor sod in the pink pod hoping

the hawk, that was so loud and powerful, 

drifts off now; ah, a break from its gawking! 

And the dusk is already here, in full.

So inflamed and urgent too, the moon moth 

dancing around the maypole as intrigue

of lust upon a cloth, a lush of froth.

Pity, what mine has died in no such league, 

without having reviewed my mémoire drafts—

of what I’ve written when the body, mind, 

heart and soul, at no rest from the war’s crafts

in the world and others, all dumb and blind. 

 

Ernesto P. Santiago, Philippines 

 

#dylanday

 

Ernesto P. Santiago (Philippines) spends all his free time between here and there, trying to learn something. He is too small for his ego. He is enough for himself. As a poet the shape of words interests him. Poetry has brought him international poetry awards - including most recently, Premio Mundial A La Excelencia Humanistica “César Vallejo” 2022 from the international literary organization - Unión Hispanomundial de Escritores, and Naji Naaman Literary Prize 2021 from Naji Naaman’s Foundation for Gratis Culture - Maison Naaman pour la Culture. He authored seven books of poetry. Born in the Philippines and currently lives in Athens, Greece. 

  .

 

 

~ Dove sono… ~

.

Dimmi dove mi trovo dentro di te;

sono forse nelle tue gambe

che cammino insieme a te?

O nelle tue mani

che scrivono sulla carta,

ma che scolpiscono

l’arte nel cuore?

O nelle tue braccia

che stringono la vita

e respingono il dolore?

O fra tue labbra

che non si pronunciano,

ma che vogliono dire mille parole?

Oh, ma forse sono lì,

in un angolo del tuo cuore

che porto allegria

e a volte malumore,

dove oramai vivo da tempo

per scaldarti e accompagnarti

in ogni tuo viaggio.

Ovunque sono, ovunque sei

rimani impresso nei sogni miei.

Eccomi, sono lì, nei sogni tuoi,

sì, perché il sogno come l’anima

non si tocca e non si comanda.

No, non si deve mai smettere di sognare.

 

Antonia Petrone, USA/Italy

#dylanday

 

Antonia Petrone (USA/Italy) was born in the United States in 1965. She lives and works in Italy as a translator, interpreter and teacher of her mother tongue. She writes poems in English and Italian and publishes in Italy and worldwide. She loves to declaim poems in English and has received international merits. http://autori.poetipoesia.com/antonia-petrone/

https://www.facebook.com/antonia.petrone.58/