War
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Kyoto spared the bomb because
Kyoto spared Spared, it is said, Because Of a second honeymoon trip For Stimson, who crossed it off the list. Kyoto, first, became last Spared, protected, never bombed. Off the list Of nuclear targets That much is fact. No fire fall. No mushroom cloud. No blazing firestorm. No human ashes Falling from the sky Kyoto because Of graceful hidden gardens Like the painter who stepped Into his painting, Only in reverse. Kyoto because once Imperial capital, capital of culture it remains, Home to a million souls. Kyoto because Of Sakura blossoms On the banks Of river Kamo. Silver and golden temples And endless Shinto gates – mirrored frames On the path…
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Darkness and Light: May Ziadeh and the Child’s Destiny
May Ziadeh’s poetry is evocative and striking. Her poem “The Child and I” is a notable example, and has a particular poignancy. The poem, which first appeared in her collection Darkness and Light 1923 (ظلمات وأشعة), tells the story of a conversation between a small English boy and an Egyptian or Arab woman. The poem was perhaps inspired by May Ziadeh’s thoughts during a real interaction, as it is told in first person. It occurs near the Nile, and we must imagine the encounter occurring at sometime in the 1910s or 1920s, when the British were the colonial power in Egypt. As we shall see, the poem begins with specifics…
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John Donne’s For Whom the Bell Tolls: with translation
John Donne’s passage For Whom the Bell Tolls is most familiar to audiences of our time through Ernest Hemingway’s novel of the same name, set in the Spanish civil war. John Donne’s words are often understood today as a poem (and they are indeed poetic). However they come from a book of devotions, and a longer contemplation on the meaning of the bell. John Donne lived in seventeenth century England. The tolling of the bell was a constant reminder of the call to prayer, and when in 1624 he wrote the passage, John Donne was Dean of St. Pauls (then one of the highest offices of the Anglican church). Il…
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Salvatore Quasimodo: Uomo del mio tempo – Man of my time
Uomo del mio tempo Man of my time Sei ancora quello della pietra e della fionda,uomo del mio tempo. Eri nella carlinga,con le ali maligne, le meridiane di morte,t’ho visto – dentro il carro di fuoco, alle forche,alle ruote di tortura. T’ho visto: eri tu,con la tua scienza esatta persuasa allo sterminio,senza amore, senza Cristo. Hai ucciso ancora,come sempre, come uccisero i padri, come ucciserogli animali che ti videro per la prima volta. Still, the stone and sling rest easy in your handMan of my time. There you were in the cockpit,on wings of evil, casting meridians of death,I saw you — in your wagon of fire; at the scaffold,Standing…
