there’s nothing ambiguous about the autumn winds now
they clutch at my flesh
a night for
WAITING FOR GODOT
in a small theatre
used by an experimental theatre group
WAITING FOR RUSTY
The old woman
you see peering out of the basement window
is my mother.
with Man Y I came to this restaurant
still you were standing in the same old
A woken clock can talk,
sounds swell around the corner,
how late it was, how angry
It may be
I’ve done this walk
it may be that these surroundings
once we moved in an age of ideas and signs
debate’s lexicon gouging at truth
We didn’t disturb the drowsy winds,
we just walked away
accompanied by the salty dawn
Liam Ó Muirthile
How’s it going, Da? An will tú ann?
The thick transparency
of the air that slowly
took shape so quickly
There are times of day
when over the petrol pump
a certain bare wall is lit up
Because at some point he mentioned frontiers
knowing that frontiers do not exist
WANDERING PARTICLES, SEEING
was this one movement, to give the landscape points to follow
fuse boxes, knots, the wooden
You will always have reasons
You will draw out the sword
like an angel
Whereas the story goes that it has been told
and finished with - but it breaks off
Ignatius T. Mabasa
I have been to war
I have been with war
I have smelt and touched
And even made love
Ignatius T. Mabasa
War? Where? Who? Why?
Woe you mean!
War don’t make no sense
WAR WITH FIRE
I, hurled into the furnace
Did you mistake complacency and forbearance
for weakness and
in the washbasin.
A rainy sojourn
Nguyễn Tiên Hoàng
On the fighting cells of my skin, your emission, warming, micro
Underneath, larger, more, more
WASHING ON THE LINE
Backyards of the poor by the railway
were cut by
washing lines with
Twenty wasted years (but what
Gonçalo M. Tavares
In the café they bring me a glass of water
as if it could solve all my problems.
bucket-shaped water and
toss it out all at once:
for a moment it floats in
three leaves, a brief wave
WATER VEIN I WELL
Descending down to the bottom at the end
Of the snow-covered slope
Lies an old spring
WATER VEIN II TIMETABLE
I have never seen numerals as silent as this
WATER VEIN IV WATERFALL
‘I know where a waterfall is’
Said the mountain man
His eyes were without doubt
WATER VEIN III WOMAN (EN)
The big elm tree shaken gracefully by the
Small birds all together who
Landed on the
WATER, ASPIRIN, YOU
Water, aspirin, you. The sun burns!
The wind strikes holes into the leaves!
It is the first hour.
From the orient
comes the sun.
Torgeir Rebolledo Pedersen
lily risen from the earth’s interior
what is it with
WAY OUT OF LOVE
Love leaks somewhere; I can hear the horrible hissing of yoked seconds, sparkling and snorting,
Doors too should start paying
their way. To record strictly how often they are opened-shut
WE ARE HERE (AT PORTA FARM)
At night before we sleep, we say, “See you tomorrow”,
There is no point in saying, “Sleep
WE ARE PARALLEL
A woman comes up to me. She says
‘we are parallel, meeting at infinity,
WE ARE SMALL
We are small, so small you would say, that death
will forget about us
how well you
WE COME FROM AFAR
You came and we warmly welcomed you
Welcoming you following the customs of our ancestors
WE FOUGHT THE WAR
We, in diaspora, overseas, fought this war,
We sourced donations and mobilised
WE TOO, TINY TITANS
We had no clue what it was all about.
We did things just since things are what you
WE WILL FIGHT THE WAR
Son of Nqindi shut the canon with your loin skins!
Zimangele’s world will erupt.
WE WILL RISE
Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen
We will rise again beneath the walls of Knossos
And in Delphi the centre of the world
WE WOULD LIVE IN THE BEAUTY
“ . . . we would live in the beauty of August,
surf the Web and find that place,
WE’RE ALREADY THERE
Ester Naomi Perquin
It’s really something: a builder who wants to keep building,
an architect who draws
WE, AS I
We, as I, can hardly digest this. Seas and
mountain ranges, lying promisingly before us, fade
WE, WHO WALK UPON THE LEAVES
it is us, the very same us who sleep
on the pillows stuffed with the rotten antlers
Never housed in picture frames: took suitcases
WEAR AND TEAR
I had a blue pullover,
a cross between turquoise and sky blue.
It was my favourite, the
Tomorrow we will see unsettled and unusual weather.
Instead of the sun rising at 05:24, a dog
God didn’t give me
he gave me
the white martyrdom
of doing without one
Roberto Baronti Marchiò
and then life happens anyway
notwithstanding efforts and complaints
all your plans for
IF ONLY MOTHER you could see me: as I was born, I
departed. I was far too little - besides who
I speak about the mountains where life grows slowly
those that do not exist in my
Once I thought a sheet
of paper weighed more after
you had drawn a line on it.
WEIGHTLESS AND BODILESS
Some faces we dismiss lightly, colour by colour we peel away
the stretch of pain within the
One of the ‘big four’ exporting companies
set up in Argentina at the end of
For centuries, the turf cutter has come every night.
Cautiously, with boards
a fierce gust of wind surged into my room
unleashing a storm
Maria van Daalen
I call you, passer-by, I call you:
the shining horizon.
I stretch out my flowering
What you said was undiluted.
And it proved effective too:
I can’t see a thing. My head is
WERE IT NOT
No one paid attention to details.
The day became clear in bits, there was no time
to be alone, but all pleasure, don´t tell anyone
Sparse song dark thread
land like a sheet
Springland of hooves and
WEST INDIAN WOMAN
You, West Indian woman, you … who are aware of being floral; who are aware of being thread, ball
WE’RE STABBING AFRICA!
This nation rests on the law of the bible,
traitors must forfeit their lives.
The initial form woman took was the braided throats of two dinosaurs.
Later, time changed and
WHAT AM I?
A black hole in space,
an oasis drained of itself,
a corpse tossed beneath a bridge
WHAT HAS GONE WRONG?
What’s wrong with people even children who are half dressed?
What's going on?
WHAT I CAN
I can write poems from sand, water and mud. On the table I’ve written poems made of small
WHAT I SAW TODAY
I saw a lover lock the doors,
eat bread, sweetmeats and wait,
doze off in a car in the
WHAT I SECRETLY SAY
I boasted several times
that if I could not make a living by writing
I’d do anything
What is being depressed at 20
As opposed to taking a shower at 90
What is going to bed with
WHAT IS HAPPINESS
Because happiness is a memory
it exists because at the same time
the reverse is also
WHAT IS IT?
Liam Ó Muirthile
I go from room to room
around the house
looking for something,
and, to be honest, I won’t
WHAT IS JAZZ?
Charlie’s hands like spiders
knits the yarn in the guitar for his woman
WHAT IS THE SEA
The sweep of a trawler net across the length of the bed,
mesh at maximum, in the tank
WHAT IS THERE
The grass, the stones, the ground
your hips, your shoulders, your neck
WHAT SINKS IN
Every photo in your album has women workers crowded
so close together their temples touch each
WHAT THE GAZE CAN DO
We have gone into the shop to see the sick light.
The human irons fill the intimate cupboards
WHAT THE STARS SAY
the stars take your heart
because the stars aren’t the least bit hungry for you!
WHAT TO DO WITH
What to do with the woman who suddenly
spread her arms. Did she want to hug me
WHAT TO SPEAK ABOUT
What to speak about tonight? And preach
in a land we recognise, tolerate,
WHAT'S AN EYE ALONE
It will not do to paint just an eye.
There must also be some scenery around
Imagine a room. The room contains a number of regular elements.
There is a
Rings of old tyres were heaped
like small loops on a wedding cake.
WHEN BLOOD BOILS
When blood boils, it explodes.
When blood freezes, it ices over.
Hushed and anchored
WHEN DUST RISES
Soon the swallow’s nest
will turn to dust
and we will lie down deep
in our beds
WHEN I CHECK EMAIL
When I check email
my wife watches ‘Koi Apnaasaa’
my son plays Jigazo
WHEN I DIE
Ignatius T. Mabasa
When I die
I don’t want a funeral
With tall speeches
Falling like yellow leaves
WHEN I PERFUME MYSELF
When I perfume myself, my twenty feet ambit exudes musk.
Wrapped in the fragrance, I walk
WHEN I SEE YOU
When I see you I feel like this
a frozen clump of memory starts its liquid flow
WHEN I WENT TO HIS PLACE
When I went to his place
he moved the table away
and leaned the bed
against the wall
WHEN IT'S ONLY YOU
I can tell from a man's eyes
Whether he will ever
Be my lover
WHEN ONE DESPAIRS
Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh
Some days, let’s admit it,
of rallying to her defence
WHEN SOMEBODY DIES
When somebody dies
his surroundings remain:
The distant mountains
WHEN THE EYES OPEN
Snow on the mountains
above the High Places
and above Jerusalem.
Come down O
WHEN THE MOON RISES
It is the night shift in an abandoned spinning factory
There is only a single light bulb
WHEN THE WIFE ISN’T HOME
In this four-room flat
When the wife isn’t home
One feels terribly lonely
One didn’t feel
WHEN WE WERE STILL YOUNG
When we were still young and the world still old
and we stood on high mountains in a far
WHEN YOU OPEN YOUR HOUSE
Luz Helena Cordero
When you open your house
your friends come in, they poke around,
they leave their
WHENEVER I GO
Then, at last
I get moving
the urge to stay
as closely as I can
Where is the other loafer?
Where is the bear-leader?
Where is the flower-girl?
WHERE AM I IN SLEEP
Roberto Baronti Marchiò
Where am I in sleep when
under the stone of the eyes
the mind takes leave from itself
WHERE ARE THEY
Hugo Jamioy Juagibioy
Where are they
in our consciousnesses,
Here is where everything
appears more truthful than any truth
between the trees and
WHERE HAVE THE BOATS GONE?
Where did the boats come from? O Ranjha
my trader in love?
Where did the boatmen come
WHERE I BECOME YOU
you come to win me over
at the other end of the world
I hear your call
WHERE IS KING MZILIKAZI?
Praise be to you of Zulu ancestry
Whose name is Mzilikazi of Matshaobana
WHERE LIGHT RAINS
Window panes where light rains
shadows where the blood remembers
if my body were your
WHERE THE DREAM WAS
You have returned
Your mouth has matured
in the invisible thread
WHERE THE POET READS
The finery of leaves in the head of the poet
is more vivid and full than that of the
In a bar, wherever it may be,
I talk to myself
To deny the distance.
I admire the
WHICH ALL THINGS
What was it you said, something about piking
early on winter mornings when the dark
WHILE ONE IS AT TABLE
While one is at table the dead get ever deader
the way this page feeds on its words
I heard the word from Macmillan of Britain
There is a new wind blowing in Africa
A wind of
You can hear voices of uncles
and their wives behind closed doors.
WHITE CHERRY POEM
Ah, it’s been days, the bird trill, like this:
comb your raven hair fine under the
Only the light in her room is on
For the thrush that light is its shadow
The walls fall
A room, then, a white room,
walls bright with lime wash,
white shutters, bare wooden
Santiago Mutis Durán
Certain things have fierce names
The Sunday the blue the beaches
Is there no
that waiting is a
railway station in North Malabar?
That a dawn in
For a long time you have been nonexistent
A face sometimes famous and sufficient unto
WHOSE COW IS THIS
Down along the path
came a cow
In the distance followed
WHY ALL THE TIME
WHY ARE YOU FRIGHTENED
Solomon Ibn Gabirol
Why are you troubled and frightened, my soul?
Be still and dwell where you are.
WHY GET UPSET
Why get upset?
Because the clock is broken?
The sun is setting.
The spirit collects
WHY NOT, BODY?
Why, body, had you no self-belief
in the days of your youth, finally you are
a shape in
If you come to my city
you are bound to find
my name in the roster
Jan Erik Vold
warm moss, the warm grass, friendly
Let’s head for Wijvenheide then.
What a shame that distances extend,
A light-hearted lullaby this, not much happens
that doesn’t already happen somewhere
Not you or me
but they who are now
we, and especially excluded
she, by not being
stepping out, all is wind
wind beneath your clothes pulls you
these are your first
WIND OF THE SPIRIT
Teixeira de Pascoaes
I felt a mysterious wind pass by
In a profound and cosmic whirl.
It took me in its arms; I
you’re so boring,
all your life you describe a few
scenes you couldn’t
I trade my heart for a larger suitcase for those come to the fourth decade.
I count my black
Eugenia Sánchez Nieto
The wind takes over my city
it blows at dawn with the singing of birds
it ruffles the
Simon Ó Faoláin
Here we go, trying
the infinite possibilities of life
lost glance distant glance shared strength clear assurance feeling of truth memory of a music to
The calendar once more dawned Sunday.
One after the other
– a smile noticed received from the blue side of his tender heart his voice always able to
– must we be higher than things rise above them or be beneath them all the way down –
love and movement are the same not to fear the beautiful sea sparkling white its flow its
the singular sensation of sky visits any free spirit so that it can hide in the tiniest corners
WINTER AT SCHILDE
There are no mothers living on this plain;
snow’s falling and, blinder, swamps are bloating.
Marlene van Niekerk
The small red finch
so deftly slips
from the swaddling
and unseeing snow
They took away her toys and lover. Well then she bowed her head and almost died. But the thirteen
WINTER IN THE SOUTH
Miriam Van hee
I imagined the wind
without shrubs and trees
and the sun without our skin
then I saw
My first snowfall at Beşiktaş, in the very places
I dreamt of during all those winters in
WINTER ON THE ISLAND
solid trackways overgrow the sea
storms sift down to the bones of fishes
someone burns paper money in the street
it’s the day of the winter
Waking up: the northern pine forest—
The urgent drum beats of the earth
The alcohol of
Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh
I caught a stomach-sorrow
while traipsing October’s fogs
I ate to nourish it
WITH A LANTERN OF HOPE
Drifted in by tidal waves
with hugs of attachment
on the shore of the North Sea
WITH A LITTLE LEAF-MOULD
I would have improved the blue upliftings of the stalks
but my brain is in collapse
WITH EVERY KIND OF HUNGER
Judging by the silence
your children toss and turn in dreams
that no father or mother
WITH HEADS HELD HIGH
with heads held high
with heads held high and in straight lines
with heads held high
WITH LESS SILENCE
Hassan El Ouazzani
With a little sun. With much night.
With your most open heart. With more of your perfume.
WITH LITTLE BEINGS
lustous (she doesn’t ponounce r)
it must be big the wanding eyes: my light
WITH MY GRANDFATHER
Like our father Abraham
who counted stars at night,
who called out to his Creator
WITH THE DEAD
I take good care in my dealings with the dead.
I’m not sure whether they know that they are
WITH THE SUNS OF SUMMER
With the suns of summer
came the orders of leisure, of desertion.
In the morning
Karinna Alves Gulias
Without arms to carry the sprouting.
Son was carried by the wind
to the river
There is a sweet music,
but its sweetness fails to console you.
This is what the days
WITHOUT WAKING YOU
In my hand I clutch the silence, all else is only seeming,
the clutch too tight, the
From Songs For the Dead Rooster
Again, damn it, radio, television, the papers.
WITHOUT YOU – 2
From Songs For the Dead Rooster
The same smells, the same
scented candles, and
. . . and he is strange to me, strange, he who is all wolf and eats
into my body from
WOLF’S IN TOWN
Wolf’s in town
The sheep make no move
they only nibble grass from the ground
WOMAN AND BLOOD
Tiny fingers cut and bleed
despite the warning not to touch the knife.
Blood finally stops
WOMAN BURNING CLOTHES
Burn me. The bright opera stage empties
here by Tung Chung Bay, where tomorrow there will be
WOMAN FROM A DESERT
Woman from a desert
has breasts of sand (red)
her navel is a hollow in the sand
You are only twenty
and your first pregnancy is a bomb.
Under your broad skirt you are
WOMAN OF A MISTY MOON
Under the rays of the blue moon,
filtered through the mist,
Her merlons are
WOMAN, OBSTINACY OF ASIA
You are a continent of the chest from the depths of races,
you wander like the moon,
Blessed is he who made me a woman –
that I am earth and Adam,
a tender rib;
Women are creatures from Venus, except that we live together.
In order to become acquainted
We were read
like the torn pages of children’s notebooks
made into cones to hold warm
Vito Apüshana (Miguel Ángel López)
It so happened that one afternoon I saw two stone curlews running.
They passed fast by my
Today, on our Computer Day
Come let’s place our hand on the women.com button
many have by now written to you, and I am no better than they.
But, if I
that was in the wonderful month
of excess and of blossomings
when my chest swirled up
This morning I woke up saddened.
This land can’t give any Wonder.
As if I asked your
name, and an echo of me
that you don’t exist
Did you ever see
the aftermath of fireworks? The branches of smoke, not
They have let loose a carpentry workshop on him:
clothes off and on the tenterhook, hands in
the red of
on the table
or the number
The word surrounds us
A line of a poem floats into my mind
Then suddenly deserts me.
Like the fish that
Eugénio de Andrade
They are like a crystal,
Some a dagger,
some a blaze.
To murmur the word ‘silence’ without really knowing the word. To throw away
Gradually they waned and went still.
Where did those frenetic words come from?
Words, smothered in the folds of the self,
Must be stirred awake,
Made to amble and
Words in their thousands pour out of dictionaries
as soon as you open them
like ants, black,
WORDS DON’T DIE OF COLD
Words don’t die of cold
they die from a lack of courage
Words often perish
WORDS INTO RAIN
Rain, protect me from myself.
Let me not come to myself staggering,
WORDS OF A CERTAIN DEAD MAN
Antero de Quental
I've been dead for over a millennium,
Exposed, on this cliff, to wind and rain:
The temperature on the construction site is only 3 degrees higher than mine.
The river under
I ran away
skipping the border
and met a man
who said Yorkshire
WORKING AT LOVE
It’s a lot of work, it tends to be too much work
love, said our advisers, was warm and
WORLD OF MIRRORS
We live in a world of mirrors,
our house has two terraces.
The front faces the
WORMING UP VON KWABBENSTEIN
is a man of the world. He is fond of declaiming gems like: Switzerland is rather expensive. Just
Yumlembam Ibomcha Singh
Whether winter or summer
Whether bombs burst or don’t burst
Beautiful women walk
Your full force was first raised against me
Let these spear-tipped streams
WOUND OF YOUR WOUND
Carlos López Degregori
I’ve birthed a goddess or a god. It came from my eyes or my mouth, I’m
WRAPPED IN NOTHING
Juan Manuel Roca
A priest slapped my face in the schoolyard because I wasn’t singing a hymn, and my cheek, after 40
Wrath, blue fire with red tongues,
licks these days clean. The stockade
in the winter
all I leave
José Manuel Arango
night, like an animal
left its breath on my window
between the needles of the cold
the water stopped
all of a sudden
the water in the
WRITING IN HEBREW
I have a role for you.
Perfect for you:
The hero’s best friend.
You get to be
A fragment of what mirror, with whose inscriptions on the palm?
you plunge into the
WRITTEN BEFORE RAIN
rain comes up from the South, falls for a while
then leaves for the Bohai Sea,
Glad we were able to strike at the heart.
Written to the brotherhood
that we lack the