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A Person in Northern Ireland

Sends me a message with a quote
from Rainer Maria Rilke, a German
poet:

“And now let us believe
in a long year that is given to us, new,
untouched, full of
things that have never been.”

That’s sort of what I’m afraid of.

Naomi Shihab Nye

The Tiny Journalist, Poems
American Poets Continuum Series, No. 170

Muligens et skudd i blinde, men Sven Moren (1871-1938) var forfatter og er far til Haldis Moren Vesaas (1907-1995).

ON A STARLESS NIGHT

On a starless night,
I toss and turn.
The earth shakes, and
I fall out of bed.
I look out my window. The house
next door no longer
stands. It’s lying like an old carpet
on the floor of the earth,
trampled by missiles, fat slippers
flying off legless feet.
I never knew my neighbors still had
that small TV,
that the old painting still hung on their
walls,
that their cat had kittens.

Mosab Abu Toha

Things You May Find Hidden In My Ear, Poems from Gaza
City Lights Books, San Francisco

No Explosions

To enjoy
fireworks
you would have
to have lived
a different kind
of life.

Naomi Shihab Nye

The Tiny Journalist - Poems, American Poets Continuum Series, No. 170

Leaving Childhood Behind

When I left, I left my childhood in the
drawer
and on the kitchen table, I left my toy horse
in its plastic bag.
I left without looking at the clock.
I forget whether it was noon or evening.

Our horse spent the night alone,
no water, no grains for dinner.
It must have thought we’d left to cook a
meal
for late guests or to make a cake
for my sister’s tenth birthday.

I walked with my sister, down our road
with no end.
We sang a birthday song.
The warplanes echoed across the
heavens.

My tired parents walked behind,
my father clutching to his chest
the keys to our house and to the stable.

We arrived at a rescue station.
News of the airstrikes roared on the
radio.
I hated death, but I hated life, too,
when we had to walk to our drawn-out
death,
reciting our never-ending ode.

Mosab Abu Toha

Things You May Find Hidden In My Ear: Poems from Gaza,
City Lights Books, San Francisco

The night is darkening round me

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.
The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

Emily Brontë (1818-1848)
England

From Great Short Poems from Around the World, Edited by BobBlaisdell,
Dover Publications, INC.

Because My Students Asked Me
what I would want them to do
at my funeral, I told them:
write & perform a collective poem
in which each of you says a line
about how I made you reach for stars
until you became them,
about how much you loved
to pretend
you hated me.
You mean even after you die
you’re going to make us do work?

• Taylor Mali - (U.S.A., b.1965)
• From Great Short Poems from Around the World, Edited by Bob Blaisdell
• Dover Publications, INC.

De evige tre

Der er to mænd i verden, der
bestandig krydser min vej;
den ene er ham jeg elsker,
den anden elsker mig.

Den ene er i en natlig drøm,
der bor i mitt mørke sind,
den anden står ved mit hjertes dør,
jeg lukker ham aldrig ind.

Den ene gav mig et vårlig pust
af lykke, der snart fór hen,
den anden gav mig sit hele liv
og fikk aldrig en time igjen.

Den ene bruser i blodets sang,
hvor elskov er ren og fri,
den anden er eet med den triste dag
drømmene drukner i.

Hver kvinde står mellom disse to,
forelsket, elsket og ren -
een gang hvert hundrede år kan det ske
de smelter sammen til een.

-Tove Ditlevsen (1917-1976)
Diktet er hentet fra Tove Ditlevsen, Dikt i utvalg, Den Norske Bokklubben- 1999.

Spor

Fotavtrykkene
står ikke i passet.
Men i ansiktet
på dem som står deg nær
kan en lese
om du sparket
eller danset
eller bare gikk deg
gjennom livet.

-Annie Riis (1927-2020)

Diktet er hentet fra Disse dagene, dette livet - dikt i utvalg av Ruth Lillegraven og Tordis Ørjasæter. Kagge Forlag 2016

FOR BERRE VANVITET TORER IKKJE

tvilens tenner
å slita på
og det reiv meg bort
på smil med venger

men gløym ikkje ormen i støvet

Jon Fosse
Diktet er hentet fra Poesiar etter Henrik Wergeland, Samlaget - 2016

NO HAR EG SAGT

det eg kan seia
så lat no stilla
lata seg att
for eg treng å kvila

berre kvila

berre kvila

og kanskje alltid berre kvila

berre no

berre enno det

• Jon Fosse
  Diktet er hentet fra Poesiar etter Henrik Wergeland, - Samlaget 2016

THE INNERMOST EMPTINESS

The Innermost Emptiness
Now I know
where the innermost emptiness can be found,
in whose wing, in whose flight,
in whose bones -
transparent and anxious -
hides not music
but memories of it.

• Olena Herasymyuk, f. 1991 i Kyiv
  Diktet er hentet fra The Frontier, 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets,
  Glagoslav Publications, 2017.

Å dikte

Å dikte er å vera
det vesle som ein vart
og sleppe kvite fuglar ut
i nattesvart.

Å leva er å vera
det store som ein er
og stå i einsleg undring
og høyre fuglar flyge inn
frå ukjend verd.

-Tor Jonsson (1916-1951)
Diktet er hentet fra Kvite fuglar, Den Norske Bokklubben, 1978

Folkevise på kyrkjegarden

I fjor var du slitar med giktkniv i lenda,
i år er du graveigar nede i grenda.

I fjor var du fattig på gods og på grøde,
I år er du rik som den rikaste døde.

I fjor laut du stå opp i utkalde stova,
i år kan du liggje i molda og sova.

I fjor var du vanvyrd som Kristus av alle,
i år er du kyrkjegardskonge å kalle.

I fjor laut du ottast den mektige domar,
I år er du mold mellom Himmeriks blomar.

-Tor Jonsson (1916-1951)

Diktet er hentet fra Kvite fuglar, Den Norske Bokklubben, 1978.

In Memory of Alois Alzheimer (1864-1915)

I
Before this page fades from memory,
spare a thought for Alois Alzheimer,
called to mind each time

someone becomes forgetful,
disintegration vindicating
his good name.

II
His is the last image assigned
to the ex-President who has slipped
from public view; soiled sheets
give credence to this thesis;

his territory is marked out
by the track of urine
dribbled along the corridor
of the day-care centre.

III
Lie closer to me in the dry sheets
while I can still tell who you are.

Let me declare how much I love you
before our bed is sorely tested.

Love me with drooling toxins, with carbon monoxide,
with rope, with arrows through my heart.

• Dennis O’Driscoll. (1954-2012)

Diktet er hentet fra Scanning the Century, The Penguin Book of the Twentieth Century in Poetry, -1999

Anthem - Leonard Cohen. - Æres den som æres bør. :)