Poems in Translation: Embracing Language
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Tu Fantasma: Sin Poder
Quisiera que había sido tu mejor amiga. Que pudiera cambiado lo que tenía que comer, cada dia, la mierda de la vida real; sobreviviendo Como piedras, tan pesadas en el estómago; como cucharas afiladas que te habia lacerado por el camino adentro; por los lugares tan bajos. Si hubiera sido tu amiga, pudiera protegerte de las fantasmas; aquellas cuáles nacidos de la guerra. Fueron de la guerra en su mente, y los malditos quién quedan en tu alma; los que roban lo que digas. Palabras parados; atrapados Antes de que llegaran al destino, que debería ser por mi boca, o regalos a mis orejas sensibles. Pero no llegue. Igualmente a mis brazos, muy adentro; muy de los dedos tocándome, como si fuera tus manos en mi mismo cara, Siempre sonriendo en tus ojos morenos. Somos espejos, ya sabes. ¿Que más que hacer? No fui nada para ti. Cuando me necesitabas no me encontraste. La desaparecida que fui yo. Todavía no soy alguien quien te puede recoger. Lo más útil que podría ser es tu amiga fantasma pero una sin intento de matarte, una que queda cerca de ti, sin más opciones qué hacer. Muy loyal, aun sin el poder de hacerte sentir mejor. |
Your Phantom, but Powerless
I wish I could have been your friend, your best friend. One who could have changed the shit you had to eat into palpable, food - real life shit which smelled like Survival. Even with the rocks heavy in your stomach it was as if food was the burden; as if knives, sharp like tongues Sliced you as you swallowed - cut you open; the length of an esophagus, like bread. If I had been your friend, I could have kept the demons away. The ones which rose up from the war in your mind; from the evil birthings in your soul. The ones who stole your words, while in utero, hung them there - as bats might dangle, before I could rescue them. I could have saved you - with my senses; ripe, red, and dripping - An open invitation into my mouth; but forgot to secure safe arrival for not a one of them. I was keen on knowing you, licking you - But I didn’t come. I wasn’t there. Neither were my arms around you - nor inside you. My fingers could have stroked you as if they were your own satisfaction - My palms could have cupped your cheeks like apples; like a mirror I saw into your Mexican eyes, of almond ovaline and shimmer-lake. The reflection which you so wanted to see, within me. What else is there to do now? I know I mean nothing to you - when you needed me, I was In the jungle, a juvenile warrior; I fought a war against the Narcos. I still can’t recognize myself for the surgeries, the scar-covering makeup Combat boots and rifle butts; long standing rebellion heritage - I find, I’m only useful as your ghost. One who loves you very much. One who would never bring you harm, Let alone murder the something special I see in us. Without other options I float around you, useless as a gale; always your loyal phantom. Without the power to make your life feel any better. |
Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She has recently been featured in The Feminist Wire, Anti-Heroin Chic, Quail Bell Magazine and Algebra of Owls. Elisabeth’s poetry aspires to give a voice to Mother Earth and all her creatures, as well those tender humans who may be suffering alone and in pain.
Elisabeth is a 2018 MFA Candidate at Lindenwood University and teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
ejfhoran@weebly.com follow @ehoranpoet.
Elisabeth is a 2018 MFA Candidate at Lindenwood University and teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
ejfhoran@weebly.com follow @ehoranpoet.
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露珠
這邀請函 不用付郵 春寒交際 蝗鼓也寂寂 從未見你離開過後院 只是 你喜歡裝作看不見 我霧中的招手 晃著 閃亮亮的美 活像個小頑童 隨枝取搖 停佇含笑花瓣上 含笑 當然知道 你想 藉問晨曦 邂逅身旁舞動的 綠斑鳳蝶 得承認 這邀請函 發得帶點心機 想騙你入內 明知 太陽底下 你存活不了多久 怎麼如此 不知躲藏 似乎 生命的快活 已然 全在你那幾下 調皮的眨眼裡 奔放殆盡 終於想透 為何 一再拒絕我的邀請 心裡不免還是期盼 終有一天 利用冰霜的夜 你會 偷偷地爬上我的 眼角尖兒 |
That Dewdrop
The invitation does not have to be stamped Autumn, in that cold night Locust stop sounds Never seen you leave the backyard You just like to pretend not to see My hands that have been waving in the fog Shaking the bright shiny beauty With the branches swing like a little urchin You stop above that Michelia figo With a smile on, of course I know By asking dawn, You try to provoke the dancing Graphium agamemnon And I have to admit This invitation with a little scheming Trying to cheat you in Obviously know You can’t survive too long under the sun How so you do not know to hide It seems the joviality in life Already, all in your naughty blink Finally figured it out Finally I understood thoroughly Why repeatedly refused my invitations My heart can’t help but look forward to One day You’ll Make use of the frost night You will sneak up the tip of my eye |
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隔夜新娘
夜 如 另一個暗傷 含著吐不出地苦 害怕夫家 是個星星不發光的地方 不知 未來的夫婿 點不點得亮 痛惜的暗空 未來的婆婆點不點得亮 當做我是自家的女兒 往日 風吹動天空之弦 總是撩動纏綿夜曲 透過窗 哪裡會獨獨只有今夜 無一點點的聲息 無一點點的聲息 各處都是月娘的光芒 破碎而恬靜 深深地睡意又戰勝清醒 不記得太陽的臉 平靜銀河 不知該流往何處 闔上眼睛背誦一首詩 |
The Bride's Last Night
Night Such as another dark injury With that bitter can’t be spit it out So afraid, the home of my husband is a place the stars do not shine I do not know The future husband Can light up the sky just for love or not The future mother-in-law Can light up the sky just for As I am their own daughter In the past The wind blows the sky Always touching the lingering nocturne Through the window How only tonight Without a little bit of sound Without a little bit of sound Everywhere is the light of the moon Broken and quiet Drowsiness overcome deeply conscious Do not remember the sun's face Calm Galaxy Never know where to stream Close my eyes and recite a poem |
Dr. Tze-Min Ition Tsai was born in 1957 in Taiwan (Republic of China), he is an Associate Professor at Asia University, Taiwan, holds a Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering and an M.S. in Applied Mathematics. He is equal affection in science, mathematics and literature. Furthermore, he is a columnist for several poetry journals in his country. His poems have been translated into more than a dozen languages, published in many countries. He has received numerous awards for his poetical and narrative works.
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Alguna Vez me Dijo
A Donde ibas - amor prohibido Cuando te fuiste de mi vida tan pesada ¿Sabes que me quede? De veras - todavía en el cuarto Donde amábamos, de vez en cuando Milagros nos abrazaran Mientras que la noche andaba afuera Sin tocandonos: Adios. El dia ya llego Nos llama la recepcionista Sin saber lo que escondemos en el cuarto La empieza de algo real, tan especial Lo que nadie más podrá entender Aunque a veces lo tratamos enseñar. Hasta al fin tesoro Amor prohibido Tu, solo tu - Que alguna vez me habías dicho - Te amo. Mis Manos
Mis manos nunca se quedan donde las aviso -. Pero van buscando cosas en que soñaba anoche Como pedazos de pan dispersados por la playa. Ella viene comiendo La gaviota que haga sobrevivir En el mar de gris con sus olas turbulentas - Siempre tiene que mantenerse en el cielo, sus alas trabajando Cerca de mis pensamientos sombreadas, Aterrorizando a mi - Pero no tanto como las manos celosas Aquellas cuales me escuchan como se fueran niñas - Y por fin se descansan más tranquilas De la vida sobre mis piernas. |
He Once Whispered
Where have you gone Forbidden love - we were together forever Before you left my heavy life. Did you know that I stayed - I’m still here In the room where we loved Felt the hugs of miracles taking us under While the night swam by outside the walls Never knocking, nor bothering: Good-bye. The sun is up - the day continues Calls the irritable receptionist She has no clue what we have invested in this - Our little room That she is interrupting Something so special A love no one will ever understand Even if we try to teach them. See you in the sky, my love Until infinity I am waiting My forbidden lover Who once whispered: I love you. My Hands
My hands never sit where I tell them to. Instead they go chasing after the visions in my dreams Like a seagull pecking bits of bread from a beach. For the bird bread can mean survival From the sea of grey and its turbulent waves - She must work to remain above its spray; flying Close to my thoughts - which chase me like shadows. Not nearly as frightful as my jealous palms That now behave and listen - And rest, finally, like good children; From the world - lightly Upon my thighs. |
Elisabeth J. Ferrell-Horan resides in rural Vermont with her husband and two young boys. She finds happiness spending time in the barn with her animals and being surrounded by the beauty of nature in all its magic. Elisabeth has a BA in American Literature from Southern Oregon State College and an MA in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. She also attended Universidad de las Americas in Puebla, Mexico as an undergrad.
Her secret talents include salsa dancing and singing Selena songs in Spanish. She still is lucky enough to dream in Spanish at times.
Her secret talents include salsa dancing and singing Selena songs in Spanish. She still is lucky enough to dream in Spanish at times.
