The Poetry Thread

[Medi73#!]

Hugh Selwyn Mauberley 1920 by Ezra Pound and other poems.

http://archive.org/stream/hughselwyn...ge/16/mode/2up

[Jonesy55]

Morning and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: "Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and quinces, Lemons and oranges, Plump unpecked cherries-Melons and raspberries, Bloom-down-cheeked peaches, Swart-headed mulberries, Wild free-born cranberries, Crab-apples, dewberries, Pine-apples, blackberries, Apricots, strawberries--All ripe together In summer weather--Morns that pass by, Fair eves that fly; Come buy, come buy; Our grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine, Dates and sharp bullaces, Rare pears and greengages, Damsons and bilberries, Taste them and try: Currants and gooseberries, Bright-fire-like barberries, Figs to fill your mouth, Citrons from the South, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye, Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening Among the brookside rushes, Laura bowed her head to hear, Lizzie veiled her blushes: Crouching close together In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and finger-tips. "Lie close," Laura said, Pricking up her golden head: We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?" "Come buy," call the goblins Hobbling down the glen. "O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura, You should not peep at goblin men." Lizzie covered up her eyes Covered close lest they should look; Laura reared her glossy head, And whispered like the restless brook: "Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie, Down the glen tramp little men. One hauls a basket, One bears a plate, One lugs a golden dish Of many pounds' weight. How fair the vine must grow Whose grapes are so luscious; How warm the wind must blow Through those fruit bushes." "No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no; Their offers should not charm us, Their evil gifts would harm us." She thrust a dimpled finger In each ear, shut eyes and ran: Curious Laura chose to linger Wondering at each merchant man. One had a cat's face, One whisked a tail, One tramped at a rat's pace, One crawled like a snail, One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry, One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry. Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves Cooing all together: They sounded kind and full of loves In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck Like a rush-imbedded swan, Like a lily from the beck, Like a moonlit poplar branch, Like a vessel at the launch When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen Turned and trooped the goblin men, With their shrill repeated cry, "Come buy, come buy." When they reached where Laura was They stood stock still upon the moss, Leering at each other, Brother with queer brother; Signalling each other, Brother with sly brother. One set his basket down, One reared his plate; One began to weave a crown Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown (Men sell not such in any town); One heaved the golden weight Of dish and fruit to offer her: "Come buy, come buy," was still their cry. Laura stared but did not stir, Longed but had no money: The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste In tones as smooth as honey, The cat-faced purr'd, The rat-paced spoke a word Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard; One parrot-voiced and jolly Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly"; One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste: "Good folk, I have no coin; To take were to purloin: I have no copper in my purse, I have no silver either, And all my gold is on the furze That shakes in windy weather Above the rusty heather." "You have much gold upon your head," They answered altogether: "Buy from us with a golden curl." She clipped a precious golden lock, She dropped a tear more rare than pearl, Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red: Sweeter than honey from the rock, Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, Clearer than water flowed that juice; She never tasted such before, How should it cloy with length of use? She sucked and sucked and sucked the more Fruits which that unknown orchard bore, She sucked until her lips were sore; Then flung the emptied rinds away, But gathered up one kernel stone, And knew not was it night or day As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate Full of wise upbraidings: "Dear, you should not stay so late, Twilight is not good for maidens; Should not loiter in the glen In the haunts of goblin men. Do you not remember Jeanie, How she met them in the moonlight, Took their gifts both choice and many, Ate their fruits and wore their flowers Plucked from bowers Where summer ripens at all hours? But ever in the moonlight She pined and pined away; Sought them by night and day, Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray; Then fell with the first snow, While to this day no grass will grow Where she lies low: I planted daisies there a year ago That never blow. You should not loiter so." "Nay hush," said Laura. "Nay hush, my sister: I ate and ate my fill, Yet my mouth waters still; To-morrow night I will Buy more," and kissed her. "Have done with sorrow; I'll bring you plums to-morrow Fresh on their mother twigs, Cherries worth getting; You cannot think what figs My teeth have met in, What melons, icy-cold Piled on a dish of gold Too huge for me to hold, What peaches with a velvet nap, Pellucid grapes without one seed: Odorous indeed must be the mead Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink, With lilies at the brink, And sugar-sweet their sap."

Golden head by golden head, Like two pigeons in one nest Folded in each other's wings, They lay down, in their curtained bed: Like two blossoms on one stem, Like two flakes of new-fallen snow, Like two wands of ivory Tipped with gold for awful kings. Moon and stars beamed in at them, Wind sang to them lullaby, Lumbering owls forbore to fly, Not a bat flapped to and fro Round their rest: Cheek to cheek and breast to breast Locked together in one nest.

Early in the morning When the first cock crowed his warning, Neat like bees, as sweet and busy, Laura rose with Lizzie: Fetched in honey, milked the cows, Aired and set to rights the house, Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat, Cakes for dainty mouths to eat, Next churned butter, whipped up cream, Fed their poultry, sat and sewed; Talked as modest maidens should Lizzie with an open heart, Laura in an absent dream, One content, one sick in part; One warbling for the mere bright day's delight, One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came--They went with pitchers to the reedy brook; Lizzie most placid in her look, Laura most like a leaping flame. They drew the gurgling water from its deep Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags, Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes Those furthest loftiest crags; Come, Laura, not another maiden lags, No wilful squirrel wags, The beasts and birds are fast asleep." But Laura loitered still among the rushes And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still, The dew not fallen, the wind not chill: Listening ever, but not catching The customary cry, "Come buy, come buy," With its iterated jingle Of sugar-baited words: Not for all her watching Once discerning even one goblin Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling; Let alone the herds That used to tramp along the glen, In groups or single, Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come, I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look: You should not loiter longer at this brook: Come with me home. The stars rise, the moon bends her arc, Each glow-worm winks her spark, Let us get home before the night grows dark; For clouds may gather even Though this is summer weather, Put out the lights and drench us through; Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

Laura turned cold as stone To find her sister heard that cry alone, That goblin cry, "Come buy our fruits, come buy." Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit? Must she no more such succous pasture find, Gone deaf and blind? Her tree of life drooped from the root: She said not one word in her heart's sore ache; But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning, Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way; So crept to bed, and lay Silent 'til Lizzie slept; Then sat up in a passionate yearning, And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night, Laura kept watch in vain, In sullen silence of exceeding pain. She never caught again the goblin cry: "Come buy, come buy," She never spied the goblin men Hawking their fruits along the glen: But when the noon waxed bright Her hair grew thin and gray; She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn To swift decay, and burn Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone She set it by a wall that faced the south; Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root, Watched for a waxing shoot, But there came none; It never saw the sun, It never felt the trickling moisture run: While with sunk eyes and faded mouth She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees False waves in desert drouth With shade of leaf-crowned trees, And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house, Tended the fowls or cows, Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat, Brought water from the brook: But sat down listless in the chimney-nook And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear To watch her sister's cankerous care, Yet not to share. She night and morning Caught the goblins' cry: "Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy." Beside the brook, along the glen She heard the tramp of goblin men, The voice and stir Poor Laura could not hear; Longed to buy fruit to comfort her, But feared to pay too dear,

She thought of Jeanie in her grave, Who should have been a bride; But who for joys brides hope to have Fell sick and died In her gay prime, In earliest winter-time, With the first glazing rime, With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.

Till Laura, dwindling, Seemed knocking at Death's door: Then Lizzie weighed no more Better and worse, But put a silver penny in her purse, Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze At twilight, halted by the brook, And for the first time in her life Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing, Full of airs and graces, Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like, Ratel and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry, Chattering like magpies, Fluttering like pigeons, Gliding like fishes, --Hugged her and kissed her; Squeezed and caressed her; Stretched up their dishes, Panniers and plates: "Look at our apples Russet and dun, Bob at our cherries Bite at our peaches, Citrons and dates, Grapes for the asking, Pears red with basking Out in the sun, Plums on their twigs; Pluck them and suck them, Pomegranates, figs."

"Good folk," said Lizzie, Mindful of Jeanie, "Give me much and many"; --Held out her apron, Tossed them her penny. "Nay, take a seat with us, Honor and eat with us," They answered grinning; "Our feast is but beginning. Night yet is early, Warm and dew-pearly, Wakeful and starry: Such fruits as these No man can carry; Half their bloom would fly, Half their dew would dry, Half their flavor would pass by. Sit down and feast with us, Be welcome guest with us, Cheer you and rest with us." "Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits At home alone for me: So, without further parleying, If you will not sell me any Of your fruits though much and many, Give me back my silver penny I tossed you for a fee." They began to scratch their pates, No longer wagging, purring, But visibly demurring, Grunting and snarling. One called her proud, Cross-grained, uncivil; Their tones waxed loud, Their looks were evil. Lashing their tails They trod and hustled her, Elbowed and jostled her, Clawed with their nails, Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking, Tore her gown and soiled her stocking, Twitched her hair out by the roots, Stamped upon her tender feet, Held her hands and squeezed their fruits Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood, Like a lily in a flood, Like a rock of blue-veined stone Lashed by tides obstreperously, --Like a beacon left alone In a hoary roaring sea, Sending up a golden fire, --Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree White with blossoms honey-sweet Sore beset by wasp and bee, --Like a royal virgin town Topped with gilded dome and spire Close beleaguered by a fleet Mad to tear her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water, Twenty cannot make him drink. Though the goblins cuffed and caught her, Coaxed and fought her, Bullied and besought her, Scratched her, pinched her black as ink, Kicked and knocked her, Mauled and mocked her, Lizzie uttered not a word; Would not open lip from lip Lest they should cram a mouthful in; But laughed in heart to feel the drip Of juice that syruped all her face, And lodged in dimples of her chin, And streaked her neck which quaked like curd. At last the evil people, Worn out by her resistance, Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit Along whichever road they took, Not leaving root or stone or shoot. Some writhed into the ground, Some dived into the brook With ring and ripple. Some scudded on the gale without a sound, Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle, Lizzie went her way; Knew not was it night or day; Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze, Threaded copse and dingle, And heard her penny jingle Bouncing in her purse, --Its bounce was music to her ear. She ran and ran As if she feared some goblin man Dogged her with gibe or curse Or something worse: But not one goblin skurried after, Nor was she pricked by fear; The kind heart made her windy-paced That urged her home quite out of breath with haste And inward laughter.

She cried "Laura," up the garden, "Did you miss me ? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me: For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men."

Laura started from her chair, Flung her arms up in the air, Clutched her hair: "Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted For my sake the fruit forbidden? Must your light like mine be hidden, Your young life like mine be wasted, Undone in mine undoing, And ruined in my ruin; Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?" She clung about her sister, Kissed and kissed and kissed her: Tears once again Refreshed her shrunken eyes, Dropping like rain After long sultry drouth; Shaking with aguish fear, and pain, She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch, That juice was wormwood to her tongue, She loathed the feast: Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung, Rent all her robe, and wrung Her hands in lamentable haste, And beat her breast. Her locks streamed like the torch Borne by a racer at full speed, Or like the mane of horses in their flight, Or like an eagle when she stems the light Straight toward the sun, Or like a caged thing freed, Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart, Met the fire smouldering there And overbore its lesser flame, She gorged on bitterness without a name: Ah! fool, to choose such part Of soul-consuming care! Sense failed in the mortal strife: Like the watch-tower of a town Which an earthquake shatters down, Like a lightning-stricken mast, Like a wind-uprooted tree Spun about, Like a foam-topped water-spout Cast down headlong in the sea, She fell at last; Pleasure past and anguish past, Is it death or is it life ?

Life out of death. That night long Lizzie watched by her, Counted her pulse's flagging stir, Felt for her breath, Held water to her lips, and cooled her face With tears and fanning leaves: But when the first birds chirped about their eaves, And early reapers plodded to the place Of golden sheaves, And dew-wet grass Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass, And new buds with new day Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream, Laura awoke as from a dream, Laughed in the innocent old way, Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice; Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray, Her breath was sweet as May, And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months,years Afterwards, when both were wives With children of their own; Their mother-hearts beset with fears, Their lives bound up in tender lives; Laura would call the little ones And tell them of her early prime, Those pleasant days long gone Of not-returning time: Would talk about the haunted glen, The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men, Their fruits like honey to the throat, But poison in the blood; (Men sell not such in any town Would tell them how her sister stood In deadly peril to do her good, And win the fiery antidote: Then joining hands to little hands Would bid them cling together, "For there is no friend like a sister, In calm or stormy weather, To cheer one on the tedious way, To fetch one if one goes astray, To lift one if one totters down, To strengthen whilst one stands."

[Core Rising]

There once was a lady from Venus
Who's body was shaped like a penis
When First Contact was made
The crew were dismayed
When she told them her species and genus

[NorwichJewels]

There was a man from London's South Bank.
Who liked a Good Wank.
He loved seeing his own Jizz.
As it made he feel as bubbly as Fizz.
His favourite sauce was Mustard.
Which He oddly had with Custard.
He liked to Camouflage.
And he did also like to Persiflage.

[Medo]

I think that's the guy from Octoman's office.

[Jack Rabbit Slim]

There once was a young English poet,
Who just wanted everyone to know it,
He was great with his rhymes
Especially fourth lines,
But the trouble is he could never get the last line correct so he stumbled on blindly typing like some stupid ignorant son of a bitch!

[Octoman]

Tank fly boss walk jam nitty gritty

[juzme123]

great thread idea.

I shall have to contribute.

[Medi73#!]

thanks, here's some Keats.

http://www.archive.org/stream/odesso...e/n25/mode/2up

[Medi73#!]

Originally Posted by Octoman

Tank fly boss walk jam nitty gritty

Your talkin to the boy from the big bad city, this is jaaam hot, this is jaaam hot.

[Electric_City]

"Fleas"

Adam
Had 'em

[NorwichJewels]

There was a man from New York
Who liked eating Minced Pork.
He was also a bit of a bender.
And loved either Gender.
His name was Ray.
And He Knew He was a bit Gay.

[juzme123]

Recently the poems of Annie M.G Schmidt were translated into English so should definately check them out.

------

But I will first post:

The William - Het Wilhelmus

William of Nassau, scion
Of a German and ancient line,
I dedicate undying
Faith to this land of mine.
A prince am I undaunted,
Of Orange, ever free,
To the king of Spain I've granted
A lifelong loyalty.


I've ever tried to live in
The fear of God's command
And therefore I've been driven,
From people, home, and land,
But God, I trust, will direct me
His willing instrument
And one day reinstate me
Into my government.

Let no despair betray you,
My subjects true and good.
The Lord will surely stay you
Though now you are pursued.
He who would live devoutly
Must pray God day and night
To throw His power about me
As champion of your right.

Life and my all for others
I sacrificed, for you!
And my illustrious brothers
Proved their devotion too.
Count Adolf, more's the pity,
Fell in the Frisian fray,
And in the eternal city
Awaits the judgement day.

I, nobly born, descended
From an imperial stock.
An empire's prince, defended
Braving the battle's shock
Heroically and fearless
With my life's blood the peerless.

A shield and my reliance,
O God, Thou ever wert.
I'll trust unto Thy guidance.
O leave me not ungirt.
That I may stay a pious
Servant of Thine for always
And [may] drive the plagues that try us,
And tyranny away.

My God, I pray thee, save me
From all who do pursue
And threaten to enslave me,
Thy trusted servant true.
O Father, do not sanction
Their wicked, foul design,
Don't let them wash their hands in
This guiltless blood of mine.

O David, thou soughtest shelter
From King Saul's tyranny.
Even so I fled this welter
And many a lord with me.
But God the Lord did save him
From exile and its hell
And, in His mercy, gave him
A realm in Israel.

Fear not 't will rain sans ceasing,
The clouds are bound to part.
After this sourness I will receive,
from God my Lord the sweetness,
I bide that sight so pleasing,
Unto my princely heart,
Which is that I with honor
Encounter death in war,
And meet in heaven my Donor,
His faithful warrior.

Nothing so moves my pity
As seeing through these lands,
Field, village, town and city
Pillaged by roving hands.
O that the Spaniards rape thee,
My Netherlands so sweet,
The thought of that does grip me
Causing my heart to bleed.

Astride on steed of mettle
I've waited with my host
The tyrant's call to battle,
Who durst not do his boast.
For, near Maastricht ensconced,
He feared the force I wield.
My horsemen saw one bounce it
Bravely across the field.

Surely, if God had willed it,
When that fierce tempest blew,
My power would have stilled it,
Or turned its blast from you
But He who dwells in heaven,
Whence all our blessings flow,
For which aye praise be given,
Did not desire it so.

Steadfast my heart remaineth
In my adversity
My princely courage straineth
All nerves to live and be.
I've prayed the Lord my Master
With fervid heart and tense
To save me from disaster
And prove my innocence.

Unto the Lord His power
I do confession make
That ne'er at any hour
Ill of the King I spake.
But unto God, the greatest
Of Majesties I owe
Obedience first and last,
For Justice wills it so.

[Medi73#!]

Interesting. Sorry to hear about the Prince's ski accident.

[Medo]

I hate translated poetry that rhymes, it makes me think something has definitely been lost in translation.

[Gherkin]

What if it's just an incredible coincidence?

[juzme123]

Equality is my name’s synonym,
For a mortal I do not allow,
That he be able to surpass me,
And I confer not on anyone,
Allusive words and hints,
presented as gifts.

Though I may be impoverished,
My hardships I do overcome,
And open palms I do not extend,
And he who I befriended,
With an enemy I do not equal.

For peace I do prospect,
From conflict I do regress,
But away I turn not from,
He who cometh towards me,
With a weapon in his grasp,
For his strike I await not.

He who did risk me [harm],
Will not pass in peace,
And though none waited for me,
Gratitude I have not [yet] released,
Transgression I do not support,
And he owed an obligation,
I equate not with the masses.

I comply not to his,
He who mine does not content,
Like parts of the world,
I accept no coercion,
Nor carry for any other,
That which is his.

O’ you in better position,
Know that I expect not,
your offerings that are [for name’s sake],
And think not to inveigle,
the [perceived] ignorant one,
For consciousness sleeps not.

One’s lace on my legs,
Nor another's coaxing actions,
Do I never accept,
And on information [about me] I say,
A receptacle that holds not.

In step I'm like the wind,
Though I act not on impulse,
Instead like fangs of poison,
I am espoused with patience,
And at times the bearer of good.

He who did risk me [harm],
Will not pass in peace,
And though none waited for me,
Gratitude I have not [yet] released,
Transgression I do not support,
And he owed an obligation,
I equate not with the masses.

Though men came and split me,
When tending to my fortune,
And though split,
like a cut hide,
I still bear the brand-mark,
I still carry the duty [of unity].

[juzme123]

The Brave of his Land

By: Tubeec & Nuura.



When the dwellers of this land,
Congregated on a night,
The committee agreed,
And the leaders decided,
When the command was given,
Of either the death of life,
Or the success of living,
What caused them to do so?
Can you tell me, oh Lady?

When they fell asleep,
And hunger came home with them,
Abundance joined the list,
And was added to the incentives,
And as solidarity cried to them,
As she let the tears run,
They picked up the weapons,
The long since engrained,
Frustrations and anger,
Caused them to do so,
They have left for the enemy.

The brave of his land,
Groundbreaker of success,
The death that does kill him,
The trees will cushion,
One sacrifices for solidarity,
One enters for it,
Death and the grave.

[juzme123]

This following poem was anti-colonial in nature and intended to mobilise Africa. It was written in the 60's by Magool, the aunt of todays K'naan (waving flag, olympics). She performed this at the Summit of the Organisation for African Unity.


Its entitled "Oh Africa, sleeping one!"


Oh Africa, sleeping one
An enemy has saddled you, sleeping one
Your champions, sleeping one
Are being devoured by vultures, sleeping one
Containers are put on you, sleeping one
Like an obedient camel, sleeping one
Led forth.

One does not wrap oneself in disgrace,
Where art thou great men?

Only a fool is always lost,
Forever confused,
Like livestock at nightfall,
[Always] returned to the corral.

Many nights I have, sleeping one
Slept in great hunger, sleeping one
Due to great anger, sleeping one
Been unable to speak, sleeping one
The milk of my livestock, sleeping one
I had no opportunity for it, sleeping one
They obstruct me from it.

One does not wrap oneself in disgrace,
Where art thou great men?

Only a fool is always lost,
Forever confused
Like livestock at nightfall,
[Always] returned to the corral.

The predator hyenas, sleeping one
Hold your body [in subservience], sleeping one
And your wealth, sleeping one
They are replete off it, sleeping one
You will not speak, sleeping one
When will you realise, sleeping one
When will you wake up.

One does not wrap oneself in disgrace,
Where art thou great men?

Only a fool is always lost,
Forever confused,
Like livestock at nightfall,
[Always] returned to the corral.

No translation can do this any justice!

[juzme123]

Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame ('Hadraawi')

Title: Has Love been blood-written

Has love been blood-written
Has marrow yet
Been poured for it
A person peeled
The skin from their back or ribs
Has expression of this
Been offered in flesh
Cut from the cheeks
Has blood extracted
Its colour still red
Uncoagulated
Been scooped from the arteries
Poured into a milk vessel
Have two people offered it
One to the other
As they would fresh milk
Have they shared it happily

Time-separated in spirit
In body as by a thorn fence
Sworn to each other
One morning have two
After first soaking rain
The damp mist dense
In an unpeopled place
Where apart from the trees
Nothing stirred
Become aware
Of each other’s rustle

Did that true meeting
Seem a vision to them
Brought by love’s plight
Or its mirage
From time to time
As if suddenly waking
Out of a dream
Did their speech
Desiring utterance
Pass from a mouth
If just a howl
Did words elude them
Was the situation soured by this

Did spots of ceaseless rain
Emotion’s tears
Spill from their eyes
Did it soak their clothes
Did they sweat compassion

Disoriented with but
A stutter of movement
They were stuck
Each time a word
No link with others
lacking substance
Limped out alone
Was it ten days later
Their tongue and palate
Found strength for it

But they are born for success
Of equal standing
Parted for so long
Did they greet one another
Exchanging stories
Did each for their part
Pass on the trials
Sustained through their love
Did they read the message
Exchange their news

Love was a food store
Which when it was heated
With charcoal and fire
The glowing embers
Of emotions stirred
Did they fill a large pot
Time after time
Drag the enclosure’s
Night-time gate
Each one with tender eyes
Seeing nothing harmed the other
Did they listen thus
For a whole year

Did the talking end
Did they then spend
Half a day
In this silent way
As the daylight fell
From their staring gaze
Their inflamed thoughts
Did they pass that night
Like the camel herders
In nocturnal endurance
Of cold and dark
Difficulties bringing illness

Did the dawn then glow
And the sun call out
Approaching each other
Not crossing the boundary
Of mores and modesty
Longing for a balm
With a mere forearm
Between them did they stand
Bodies held straight
Opposite each other
Avoiding the step
Of moving closer
Resisting the play-touch
The youthful way
The taste glimpsed
In the distance
Did they just behold each other
Through their eyes

They stood on the spot
Each one gazing
Standing upright
Did it last a thousand nights

The legs of the termite
Emerged from the earth
Breaking the surface skin
Did it peel their bodies
Consume the flesh
Did it wound the veins
Pass to the nerves
Persisting
To the very inside of the bone

The bad news
It places in you
That you look on with fear
Is the trials and your death
Did they welcome it
With their whole body and a smile

There’s a flower which blooms
After morning’s compassion
Has refreshed it with dew
It brings forth a red liquid
For the mouth to sip
Its stamen and stigma
Entwine like a rope
Was it this they exchanged
Offering as a legacy
Did they present it to taste
As the last earthly food of love
Did they place at the other’s ear
The word which was missing

The termite gathered up
Sand and detritus
Forming clay diligently
Rendering and plastering
Did it transform those two
Did a building arise
Did it mould from them
A structure of wonder
A lofty termite mound
Famed for its thickness and strength

Roaming in the sun-heat of daytime
Did people in the dry season
Grazing lands
Rest in its shade
Then move away in the evening
Unaware of the reality
Of the story that deep inside
This shady backbone support
Two souls await the outcome of truth

If self sacrifice is not made
The breath of life not exchanged
If one does not wait
For an enduring legacy
The building of a house upright
Children and earthly sustenance
Then the kisses and intentions
Are nothing but superficial
A poison sipped to satisfaction
In that one same moment
Like hyenas snatching
A girl of good repute
As they hide themselves
In the Higlo tree
To pounce out quickly
Each man is expectant
For what will fall to him
A hyena and his grave hole
The honour he has trampled
The modesty he has snatched
The lying illusion
Does nothing but harm society

Did he strive for the highest level
Of fulfilment of love
That closest to honour
Or is something still missing?

Translated by Martin Orwin