Un regalo dalla Cina

Ricordami dal giorno di Natale, per il motivo
sono stato un regalo che l’ha regales, e poi
eravamo insieme in un abbraccio
senza maschere, senza vestiti
nella nuda verità dell’amore,
ornamenti per splendente beatitudine
più di un bacio, una risata
prima della peste cinese
come un giro sul carro con
musica dondolata e rotolata –
tali giorni sulle montagne russe;
sembra vago ora quando
Ho così freddo nel letargo invernale
e la tua quarantena è così lontana, ma
la primavera sta arrivando, e
Salterò sul tuo letto
e possiamo esserlo
bambini con gelato,
adulti con vino.
—————-
Remember me from Christmas day, for the reason
I was a gift that gave it, and then
we were together in an embrace
without masks, without clothes
in the naked truth of love,
ornaments for shining bliss
more than a kiss, a laugh
before the Chinese plague
like a ride on the wagon with
rocked and rolled music –
such roller coaster days;
seems vague now when
I am so cold in the winter hibernation
and your quarantine is so far, but
spring is coming, and
I’ll jump on your bed
and we can be
kids with ice cream,
adults with wine.

A Gift From China

Remember me from Christmas day:
I was a present for you
because I was present, and
we were together in a hug
without masks, without clothes
in the naked truth of love,
ornaments for shiny bliss
more than a kiss, a laugh
before the Chinese plague
like a hayride, and
rock and roll —
such roller-coaster days;
seems hazy now when
I am so cold in the winter hibernation
and your quarantine is so far away, but
spring is coming, and
I will jump on your bed
and we can be
children with ice cream, and
adults with wine.

Washing Poems

Washing Windows

She asked me why
window-washers wear harnesses

I said for their loved ones.

She giggled,
“I don’t love you.”

So I took it off,
pulled her out of the window
and we both fell to our deaths.

One of us went to Hell.
———-
Why Did You Plant Flowers

Why did you not go
when I told you
the tanks are coming.

Why did you go
into the garden, when
I told you there are
never flowers.

I wanted to send you away
but I was too weak when
you wanted to stay with me

and I said hide, but
you wanted to plant.

Why did you not go
when I told you
the tanks are coming.

Why did you go
into the garden
where there is no rain

and a bomb
fell on you.
———–
Rubble of You

You are so beautiful
with streaks of dirt
on your face, and
torn clothes.

Gorgeous are you
with matted hair
and blood, because

they’ve pulled you
from the rubble

and I heard you whisper
I love you
—————-
Never-mind

Sometimes when I go fishing
I catch fish. Last time
a lot.

decided to sell, so
I went to the fish market
to see how they do it.

He said, “How many pounds do you want?”
I said, “None. I’m selling not buying”
He said, “Stop fishing.”

I went to the market to sell books.
She said, “Go fishing.”
He said, “Go fly a kite.”

What am I supposed to do
with books on how to
fly a fish, and
fish a kite out of water
with a catfish and a hook?
—————–
Adopt A Martyr Lottery Machine

It’s in the Supermarket
between the frozen vegetables
and the fish monger concession

It takes credit cards or bills.
Many photos of women and children.

A charming photo
on my lottery card
the family I adopted

My adopted family on the news:
machine gunned to death; means
I won a prize: a million dollars. Now
I can afford sizable fresh fish.

Went across
from the vegetables
to buy a fish, and

showed the aproned man a copy
of my winning card. He

fell to the floor, flopping around
gasping for air, whispered
“My daughter, my daughter…
I told her not to join the revolution.”

I said,
how many pounds is the fish? He

didn’t answer so I shot him dead,
and several people had his card —
they all cheered because
some days are lucky
———–
On Being Cheerful

Some creamy ice
though cold and white
has no cherry on top
but only stones below, although
its photo is nice, its
clouds majestic, this mountain

Down and cold just below its top
the mountain piques me, takes
me down without a flag, an
inglorious retreat from ledge of death
no prize for frost; I
fall on shattered icicles cutting
crystalline loneliness, an
avalanche without prayer; I

haven’t reached any peak, for
never in the valley without song
were cheerleaders
ever real in off-time chants
a game without purpose
within a pompon face
a Kabuki without soul in
made up role
rolling seasons of bland
blandished like

roly-poly trophies
for pudgy spirits
unrisen dough
rolled to be crusty
never wrapped around
fruitful filling,
never in the valley where all were
drab stand-offs off-putting
waiting to putt on dull greens
show off
send random climbers
to their deaths
for amusement, gossip, and
news about brave fools
up a mountain without a fog horn
or paddle from an ark

Alone and down
I walk away from
ledges of death
to icicles that
shatter like glass
cut many ways

Rose colored blooms of blood blossom
thorny questions, because

Positive spin
had made me nauseous
dizzy

peppered in pep-talk, I had
sneezed ideas as common as pollen,
few flowers to share

cold
I descend now

Alone
I won’t mind
a glass of wine, and
death without
another winter, but

my orchard remains. I
reach for one
last summer.
Barks.

Does someone come?
I am afraid

Stagionatura (2) (Season Italian) by Rasmus K. Robot

Si sono sempre riuniti la ascoltarla
come se dalle labbra della l’anima di lei,
lei baciò le parole di pace

È il mio fiore della poesia
chi guida la protesta quotidiana

Le folle beate
porta i suoi fiori
per condire la giornata
con gioia spruzzata

È la stagione in cui i fiori esplodono sul marciapiede
dove le persone circondano il fiore di fiori
e i beati vengono baciati con nuove notizie di libertà
una stagione per ragione, per progresso, una parola, ma

Il mio fiore
è stato l’ultimo a parlare,
l’ultimo a baciare la folla quando

i fiori non erano più in stagione
e regnava una grandinata invernale di proiettili

Una parola nell’aria si perse in una brezza nella
stagione in cui i fiori esplodono sul marciapiede,
comunque sia le sue spezie sono ancora tornate nei campi aperti

il suo dolore oscura un sole instabile
e i fiori sono coperti di sangue.
——–
Seasoning

They always came together to listen to her
as if from the lips of her soul,
she kissed the words of peace

It is my flower of poetry
who leads the daily protest

The blessed crowds
brings its flowers
to season the day
with joy sprinkled

It is the season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk
where people surround the flower of flowers
and the blessed are kissed with new news of freedom
a season for reason, for progress, a word, but

My flower
was the last to speak,
the last to kiss the crowd when

the flowers were no longer in season
and a winter hail of bullets reigned

A word in the air was lost in a breeze in the
season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk,
however its spices are still back in the open fields

his pain obscures an unstable sun
and the flowers are covered in blood.

Lei, l’Alta Sacerdotessa, scrive una poesia in italiano

Camminando Con La musica Dell’amore Che Canto
    “Zawmb’yee Nuje”

Da lontano ho sentito il suo
basso profondo

Gli alberi erano pieni di soprani aviari
e dal svolazzando
i fiori di ciliegio sono caduti su di me
ha reso il mio cuore roseo a
soprano coloratura

camminai
nello scalpiccio della canzone andante,
un uccello aveva un verme nel suo conto
al dente in ondeggiamento
un trillo per la colazione

Ho canticchiato allegretto
ho sentito la risata del mio amante, e
un cardinale sollevò il suo
coda a ventaglio a me
quelle canzoni cinguettanti
canzoncina cinguettante
non per caso di notte
o sciocca canzone daffodil gialla
un’aria per me
il frivolo me,
Ho saltato un passo

Si voltò e mi vide
dal punto di incontro

Più vicino, ma non
abbastanza vicino
Ho fatto un entrechat

Alzò le braccia
il suo sorriso

Più allegro
Ho fatto un salto

Presto, ho corso
e saltò tra le sue braccia,
percussioni e bacio
—————–
(The English directly below is a literal translation. The original I put after this version)
Walking With The Music Of Love I Sing

From a distance I felt his
deep bass

The trees were full of avian sopranos
and by fluttering
cherry blossoms have fallen on me
made my heart pink a
soprano coloring

I walked
in the patter of the going song,
a bird had a worm in its account
al dente in sway
a trill for breakfast

I hummed allegretto
I heard the laugh of my lover, and
a cardinal raised his
fan tail to me
those chirping songs
twittering song
not by chance at night
or silly yellow daffodil song
an Aria for me
the frivolous me,
I skipped a step

He turned and saw me
from the meeting point

Closer, but not
close enough
I did an entrechat

He raised his arms
his smile

Most cheerful
I jumped

Soon, I ran
and jumped into his arms,
percussion and kiss
=======
From afar I heard his
basso profundo

The trees were full of avian sopranos
and from the flitting
cherry blossoms fell on me
made my rosy heart a
coloratura soprano

I walked
in the patter of andante song,
a bird had a worm in his bill
al dente in wiggle
a breakfast trill

I hummed allegretto
heard my lover’s laugh, and
a cardinal lifted its
fan tail at me
those chirpy songs
a twitty ditty
not whippoorwill of night
or silly yellow daffodil song
a dilly to me
dilly I,
I skipped a beat

He turned and saw me
from the rendezvous point

Closer, but not
near enough
I did an entrechat

He lifted his arms
his smile

Più allegro
I leaped

Presto, I ran
and jumped into his arms,
percussion and kiss

Lettera (Italian) by Naztko

fedele alla lettera
Ho detto l’incantesimo;
non ha funzionato perché
è un pensiero connesso
quello ha la volontà
e l’ultima volontà.

Non prenotare il giorno, ma
giustificare a pensarci
come un cuscino blu
di stelle raffinate
———–
true to the letter
I said the spell;
it didn’t work because
it is a connected thought
that has the will
and the last will.

Don’t book the day, but
justify thinking about it
like a blue pillow
of refined stars

A una Psiche

Alla lettera vieni: leggi con
la psicometria cartacea.
Vieni a vedere, Gina, cara,
dovresti misurare la superficie
per una divinazione di anima
un punto di messa a fuoco
a una psiche

alla lettera
sii sensitivo

vieni nella carne
qui, ora

Ti amo ragazza sensuale
======
To the letter, come: read with
paper psychometry.
Come and see, Gina, dear,
you should measure the surface
for a soul divination
a point of focus
to a psyche

to the letter
be psychic

come in the flesh
here now

I love you sensual girl

Presuming the Transformation

   Start from a Prompt: Presume

The Sun presumes to speak for us
in sunny moods to warm the day, but
our fall from grace in lugubrious mud
inclines us not to kiss or forgive.
==========================
     Version 2

Il sole presume di parlare per noi
di buon umore per riscaldare la giornata, ma
la nostra caduta dalla grazia nel fango lugubre
ci spinge a non baciare o perdonare.
————–
     Version 3

The sun presumes to speak for us
in a good mood to warm up the day, but
our fall from grace in the lugubrious mud
urges us not to kiss or forgive.
===================================
     Version 4

The sun is supposed to speak for us
in a good mood to warm up the day, but
our fall from grace in the lurid mud
presumes a kiss to forgive the rain.
————–
     Version 5

De zon veronderstelt voor ons te spreken
in een goed humeur om de dag op te warmen, maar
onze val uit de gratie in de lugubere modder
dringt er bij ons op aan de regen niet te kussen of te vergeven.
——–
     Version 6

The sun is supposed to speak for us
in a good mood to warm up the day, but
our fall from grace in the lurid mud
urges us not to kiss or forgive the rain.
=====================================
     Version 7

Ο ήλιος πρέπει να μιλήσει για μας
σε μια καλή διάθεση για να ζεσταθεί η μέρα, αλλά
η πτώση μας από τη χάρη στη γεμάτη λάσπη
υποθέτει ένα φιλί για να συγχωρήσει τη βροχή.
————
The sun must speak for us
in a good mood to warm the day but
our fall from grace to full mud
assumes a kiss to forgive the rain.
======================================
     Version 8

If the sun must speak for us
in a good mood to warm the day
let our fall from grace in storms and
assume a kiss to forgive the rain.
=================
     Version 9

Αν ο ήλιος πρέπει να μιλήσει για μας
σε καλή διάθεση να ζεσταθεί η μέρα
αφήστε την πτώση μας από τη χάρη στις καταιγίδες και
πάρτε ένα φιλί για να συγχωρήσετε τη βροχή.
——–
If the sun should speak to us
in a good mood to warm the day
let us fall by the grace of the storms and
take a kiss to forgive the rain.

Roccia extraterrestre

Le api e le farfalle vedono
che ella allatta gli Aster
come un giardiniere

Ella canta loro il blues; sceglie per ella stessa
un campione di Aster per la capsula del poema

Suo marito è un Superman per lei
ma nel loro campo scientifico non possono
sfuggire al loro pianeta morente in allegria

Dopo l’ultima tempesta di rocce spaziali,
tempesta di politici arroganti che non hanno fatto nulla
(non adornava gli onorevoli allori per loro), si allora
dopo l’aster, la loro città adorata era nel caos, ma

Lanciano i loro messaggi e
manda i loro Cassandra verso la Terra

È una poesia infuocata
ma fa un colpo d’occhio.
——-
Bees and butterflies see
that she nurses the Asters
like a gardener

She sings them the blues; she chooses for herself
a sample of Aster for the capsule of the poem

Her husband is a Superman for her
but in their scientific field they cannot
escape their dying planet in joy

After the last storm of space rocks,
storm of arrogant politicians who did nothing
(did not adorn honorable laurels for them), yes then
after the aster, their beloved city was in chaos, but

They launch their messages and
send their Cassandras to the Earth

It’s a fiery poem
but it makes a glance.

Il Tocco al Cuore

Vedo il punto della tua scherma;
toccami e sarò la tua sottile spada da pazzo
perché principalmente stai toccando:
vieni qui piccola
e abbracciami forte,
e non ci sederemo sul recinto,

quindi tesoro,
metti il ​​tuo cuore
con grazia nella danza
per il colpo d’amore
——–
The Touch to the Heart

I see the point of your fencing;
touch me and I’ll be your thin crazy sword
because mainly you’re touching:
come here baby
and hug me tight,
and we will not sit on the fence,

so honey,
put your heart
gracefully in the dance
for the stroke of love