Posts Tagged ‘ translation ’

CHANDRA LIVIA CANDIANI – Apprentices of the moon in the meditation room

Meditation and poetry are “nocturnal ways” – clear-cut and essential although not easily deciphered by reason. They are like moonlight that shines in the dark, that illumines and veils. In the East, the moon represents the mind that reflects, is compassionate, does not separate. The moon teaches the flow and holds the secret of appearances and disappearances. Poetry, too, is reflected light, mysterious gift that disappears in the new paragraph and reappears in the next verse. Meditation is the art of dwelling in everything – even in disappearance, even in nothingness; dwelling in nothingness like the new moon. Chandra Livia Candiani proposes a connection between poetry and meditation, a shared time to experiment together, to conquer the fear of the void and recognize the space in it. We are all apprentices, and being apprentices of the moon means not to fear darkness, to learn the art of wandering and of silent traces. The meditation room is portable, it is our body.  – source

Nell’orto c’è paura c’è
mezzogiorno di fuoco,
tu Bea porta con te
la tana tenera
dell’amicizia, dicono
che ho troppi doni nelle mani
e tu che nel troppo
avevi dimora, distribuiscili
tra i passeri, i lombrichi,
le chiocciole, dalli in pasto
ai trifogli e alla salvia,
non far crescere fiori
che mi rapinano lo sguardo.
Dicono che io sono sempre
in allarme, all’erta
e tu profuga smarrita
in ogni agio
spiegaglielo che sono in veglia
in canto insonne di uccelli
per ubriacatura di primavera.
Se ti portassi qui
saresti in breve la monaca folle
sposata con le piante
e gli animali e tutto il resto
che fa capolino
dal mistero.
Ci sei e non ci sei,
sei il luogo,
troppo vasta
per vederti.
Sfiorami dunque
col pensiero
come fanno le mosche
quando rincorrendosi
formano geometrie


Chandra Livia Candiani

Da: La Bambina Pugile, Einaudi, 2014.

In the garden there is fear, there is
high noon on fire,
you, Bea, take with you
the gentle cave
of friendship, they say
I have too many gifts on my hands,
and you who were at home
in the too many, share them out
between the sparrows, the worms,
the snails, give them
to the trefoil and the sage,
don’t grow flowers
that will steal my sight.
They say I am always
alarmed, on alert,
and you, refugee lost
in any comfort,
explain to them that I keep vigil
with the sleepless song of birds,
drunk on spring.
If I brought you here
you would soon be the mad nun
married to the plants
and the animals and everything else
that peeps in
on the mystery.
You are here, and you are not,
you are the place,
too vast
to be seen.
Touch me then
with a thought
like the flies do
when, chasing each other,
they form geometries
in love.

Chandra Livia Candiani

From: La Bambina Pugile, Einaudi, 2014. Translation by Bhikkhu Abhinando

Chandra Livia Candiani Poems

Chandra Livia Candiani – Vengodalmare  is where I learned of Chandra Livia Candiani, the contemporary Italian poet. – df



ŽEMĖS UŽŽAVĖJIMAI. PER JAUNATĮ – the enchantments of earth. new moon by Jurgita Jasponytė




As if one is invited,

one is called

as if the vectors of windows

point north

and the thoughts of the earth awaken

so that you know

what actions to take.


A thread freezes and breaks in the cold –

The stalk of a nascent moon.




I am tired

of holding my tongue,

everything must be said,


while the seed is sown –


magic words

enchant the earth

and you can’t

prevent life

as your palms enclose roots

lifting everything



until I am cleansed by my own abnegation

until fear-filled eyes put me to the test.




Protect us from the rain

that promises more

than we need,

give us enough mouths

if you set the harvest upon us

through the fields


I know you are my mother,

that my legs are stuck in you

for ages,

and to break away

promises only

another turning towards you


I know that we love you

not just for

your ear for our prayers,

your gift of the harvest,

but how you don’t hesitate to feed

the mouth that disrespects you,

that fails to understand

the what and from where

of life –


your unconditionality

is the most perfect form of truth.


Let there be heaven for us

through rain.




In the cold, thread freezes and breaks –

the cord connecting the earth

with the pink moon of morning –

a shield

protecting us –


born naked

every evening.


Translated by Rimas Užgiris





Kaip kas kviestų

kas šauktų

kaip šiaurėn

būtų nutiestos pradalgių kryptys

būtų žemės mintis pažadinta ir žinotum

kokius veiksmus



Šalty stingsta ir lūžta siūlas –

virkščia įgemančio mėnesio.





Pavargau ištylėt


reikia greitai

kol beriama sėkla



žemė tampa tada užžavėta

ir neleist gyvasties


ir apglėbia delnais šaknis

ima viską paviršiun kelti


kol mane valo savęs atsisakymas

kol baimės akys mane išbando.







Ir apsaugoki mus nuo liūties

daugiau žadančios

negu mums reikia

duok pakankamai burnų

jeigu derlių per lauką

ant mūsų paleidai


žinau, kad esi man motina

kad mano kojos tavin įsmigusios

per amžius

ir atotrūkį

tik vėl virtimas tavimi

neišvengiamai žada


žinau, kad mylim tave

net ne už tai

kad maldas išklausai

ir derlium mus dovanoji

bet kad nesiliauji maitint

ir negarbinančią tavęs burną

nesuprantančią net

kas ir iš kur ta gyvybė –


tavo besąlygiškumas

yra tobuliausia teisybės forma.


Tebūnie dangus

mums per lietų.




Šalty stingsta ir lūžta siūlas –

Virkštelė, jungianti žemę

su rausvu ryto mėnesiu –


saugančiu mus


kurs iš vakaro įgema




Today’s Haiku (September 26, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

松の幹みな傾きて九月かな  桂 信子

matsu no miki mina katamukite kugatsu kana

all the pine trees

are leaning…


Nobuko Katsura

translation by Fay Aoyagi

from ‘Haidan,’ (‘Haiku Stage’) a monthly haiku magazine, September 2017 Issue, Honami Shoten, Tokyo

Fay’s Note:  Nobuko Katsura (1914-2004)

Source: Today’s Haiku (September 26, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

Today’s Haiku (October 14, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

刻々と風老いてゆく芒原   月野ぽぽな

kokukokuto kaze oiteyuku susuki hara

moment by moment

the wind is aging…

pampas field

Popona Tsukino

translation by Fay Aoyagi

from ‘Haiku,’ a monthly haiku magazine, November 2016 Issue, Kabushiki Kaisha Kadokawa, Tokyo

Source: Today’s Haiku (October 14, 2017) | Blue Willow Haiku World (by Fay Aoyagi)

Sydell Rosenberg’s Feather – Haiku Commentary

in a toyless cage
the parakeet discovers
a feather to twirl

Sydell Rosenberg (1929-1996)

Hiromi Inoue, translation into Japanese and calligraphy

Source: Sydell Rosenberg’s Feather – Haiku Commentary

Changing Iterations of Motherhood in Recent Lithuanian Poetry by Women | Versopolis

Tačiau buvo aišku – ji nekalba, kad

nepapasakotų kam nors ko nereikia,

ir kad mes išgyventume.

– Giedrė Kazlauskaitė

from “Silentium”


We began to understand – she remains silent

To avoid saying what doesn’t need to be said,

Keeping our lives safe.

–Giedrė Kazlauskaitė

[Translated by Rimas Užgiris]

On the other side of the spectrum, and yet part of the same cultural phenomenon, there is Giedrė Kazlauskaitė‘s poetic output. Born in 1980, and in contrast to the two poets discussed above, Kazlauskaitė is a well-established figure of Lithuanian literary life, author of five books, of which three are poetry collections that have won numerous literary awards. She is an editor of one of the major literary newspapers, Šiaurės Atėnai, openly gay and a mother of a daughter whom she brings up with her long-term female partner. Her poetic universe differs from the confessional writing characteristic of the collections discussed earlier in the article, in that it enjoys a strong intellectual and erudite quality, which is reflected in Kazlauskaitė’s formal literary success. Her first collection of poetry, Heterų dainos (Hetaera Songs), evokes the conflict between her sexuality and the desire for motherhood, as well as guilt for having made the transgressive decision to become a mother in the heteronormative society that is contemporary Lithuania. However, the collection of poems entitled Meninos, published in 2014, the same year as Pilipauskaitė-Butkienė’s debut book, features a very important poem, which can be read as a public coming out, entitled “Silentium.” It is a narrative poem telling the story of the poetic persona’s daughter’s delayed speech acquisition, and its rootedness in the secrecy of her homosexual relationship with the co-mother of the daughter. . . .

Source: Changing Iterations of Motherhood in Recent Lithuanian Poetry by Women | Versopolis

September and October 2017 – Otata

Bill Cooper

solar eclipse
a speck of water lettuce
on the frog’s eye


Gary Eaton

the secret life
of a saucer of milk
new moon


Jennifer Hambrick

summer heat
the 2 a.m. taste
of this screen


Jack Galmitz

She was old

and the dog’s leash
was long and leather.
e malamute in human years looked even older.
She bore out
as they got closer.
When I reached them
she stopped and I patted
her head, rubbed under her chin and along her mouth
that was dribbling.
I took a few steps
and when I turned around
I saw that she was bounding
a little.
at’s all it takes:
to be loved for a minute.


Valentina Meloni

from Nanita
copyright © 2017 Valentina Meloni


Il vento porterà via lontano queste
foglie, le lascerà cadere vicino a te.
Quando le prenderai nelle tue mani
ricorda di leggere le piccole poesie
scritte tra le nervature. Io sono lì.

The wind will carry away these leaves,
it will bring them close you.
When you take them in your hands
remember to read the little poems
written between ribs. There I am.


Otata 22

(Click on the links below to read otata 21 (September 2017) — Valentina Meloni — nanita otata 22 (October 2017)   from otata’s bookshelf John Perlman, Gathering the Backyard Seeds Ξ Otata…)

Source: September and October 2017 – Otata