Ponto de honra
Desassossego a paixão espaço aberto nos meus braços Insubordino o amor desobedeço e desfaço Desacerto o meu limite incendeio o tempo todo Vou traçando o feminino tomo rasgo e desatino Contrario o meu destino digo oposto do que ouço Evito o que me ensinaram invento troco disponho Recuso ser meu avesso matando aquilo que sonho Salto ao eixo da quimera saio voando no gosto Sou bruxa Sou feiticeira Sou poetisa e desato Escrevo e cuspo na fogueira
Point of honour
I unsettle all passion open space in my arms insubordinate love disobey and untie I wrong-foot my boundaries I light f ires all the time I set forth the feminine I take I tear I cross lines I contradict my fate speak what I do not hear I avoid what I was taught I invent I change I dispose I refuse my inside-out killing all that I may dream I jump over the impossible I f ly wherever I please I’m a witch I’m a sorcerer I’m an unravelling poet I write and spit on the f lames Maria Teresa Horta
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Poem s for M arch 8 th International Women’s Day, commonly known as Women’s Day, is marked on March the 8th every year to commemorate women’s social , political and economic achievements as well as the conditions of women, both the discrimination and the violence which they are still subjected to in many parts of the world .
Hoş geldin kadınım
Hoş geldin kadınım benim, hoş geldin. Yorulmuşsundur; nasıl etsem de yıkasam ayacıklarını, ne gül suyum, ne gümüş leğenim var. Susamışsındır; buzlu şerbetim yok ki ikram edeyim. Acıkmışsındır; sana beyaz keten örtülü sofralar kuramam memleket gibi esir ve yoksuldur odam. Hoş geldin kadınım benim, hoş geldin! Ayağını bastın odama kırk yıllık beton, çayır çimen şimdi. Güldün, güller açıldı penceremin demirlerinde. Ağladın, avuçlarıma döküldü inciler; gönlüm gibi zengin, hürriyet gibi aydınlık oldu odam. Hoş geldin kadınım benim, hoş geldin...
Welcome My Lady
Welcome my lady, welcome You would be tired How shall I wash your little feet I have neither rose- water nor silver bowl You would be thirst y; I have no syrup with ice that I would offer. You would be hungry; I cannot set up tables with white linen clothes for you My room is poor and captured like the hometown. Welcome my lady, welcome You stepped in my room The fort y year-old concrete ground is green now You cried; The pearls spilled into my palms; My room became rich like my heart And light like freedom. Welcome my lady, welcome Nazım Hikmet Ran
Io non ho bisogno di denaro
Io non ho bisogno di denaro ho bisogno di sentimenti di parole di parole scelte sapientemente di f iori detti pensieri di rose dette presenze di sogni che abitino gli alberi di canzoni che facciano danzare le statue di stelle che mormorino all’orecchio degli amanti. Ho bisogno di poesia questa magia che brucia la pesantezza delle parole che risveglia le emozioni e dà colori nuovi.
I do not need money .
I do not need money. I have need of feelings of words, words chosen wisely of f lowers called thoughts, of roses called presences of dreams inhabiting the trees, of songs that make statues dance, of stars that murmur to the ear of lovers. I need poetry this spell which burns the weight of words that arouses emotions and gives new colors. Alda Merini
De lenige liefde
Je truitjes en je witte en rode sjaals en je kousen en je slipjes (met liefde gemaakt, zei de reclame) en je brassières (er steekt poëzie in die dingen, vooral als jij ze draagt)ze slingeren rond in dit gedicht als op je kamer. Kom er maar in, lezer, maak het je gemakkelijk, struikel niet over de zinsbouw en over de uitgeschopte schoenen, gaat u zitten. (Intussen zoenen wij even in deze zin tussen haakjes, zo ziet de lezer ons niet.) Hoe vindt u het, dit is een raam om naar de werkelijkheid te kijken, alles wat u daar ziet bestaat. Is het niet allemaal als in een gedicht?
The lithe love
Your jerseys and the white and the red scarves and your stockings and your panties (made with love, the commercial said) and your brassieres (they’re full of poetry these things, particularly when you wear them) they lie around in this poem like in your room Come in, reader, make yourself comfortable, do not stumble over the sentence structure or the kicked out shoes, have a seat. (In bet ween we just kiss in this sentence bet ween brackets, so the reader doesn’t see us.) How do you like it, this is a window to look at realit y, everything you see there exists. Isn’t all of that just like a poem? Herman de Coninck
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate; Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’ d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’ d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Sonetto 18
Ti paragonerò dunque ad un giorno d’estate? Tu sei ben più leggiadro e meglio temperato, ruvidi venti sferzano i soavi boccioli di maggio e il termine d’estate troppo ha breve durata. Talvolta, troppo ardente l’occhio del cielo splende, e sovente velato è il suo dorato sembiante, e ogni bellezza alla f ine decade dal suo stato, spoglia dal caso oppure dal corso di natura mutevole. Ma la tua eterna estate non potrà svanire e non perderà il possesso delle tue molteplici bellezze, ne potrà la morte mai vantarsi d’averti nell’ombra sua, poichè tu crescerai nel tempo in versi eterni. Sinchè uomini respireranno, e occhi vedranno di altrettanto queste rime vivranno e a te daranno vita. William Shakespeare
Mariana Pineda - prólogo
Weltfrauentag
¡Oh! Qué día tan triste en Granada, que a las piedras hacía llorar al ver que Marianita se muere en cadalso por no declarar. Marianita, sentada en su cuarto, no paraba de considerar: «Si Pedrosa me viera bordando la bandera de la Libertad». ¡Oh, qué día tan triste en Granada, las campanas doblar y doblar!
Mariana Pineda - prologue
Heute werden sie bejubelt, unsre Frauen überall. Sie sind meistens, sind wir ehrlich, unser bestes Pferd im Stall. Sie bemühen sich tagtäglich, standhaft und auch unbeirrt; sind als Mutter, Frau und Freundin oftmals auch ein Seelenhirt.
Oh! What a sad day in Granada, That even the stones mourn Seeing that Marianita is dying On the scaffold without power of speaking. Marianita, sitting in her room, Didn`t stop thinking “If only Pedrosa could see me Embroidering the f lag of freedom” Oh, what a sad day in Granada, The bells singing and singing! Federico García Lorca
Unent wegt sind sie für uns da, konsequent und ohne Klag’. Darum, Männer ehrt sie nicht nur heute am Weltfrauentag!
World Women’s Day
Today they are cheered Our women everywhere Mostly they are, being honest, The best there is. They try hard day in, day out To stand f irm in following their goals As mothers, women, and girl-friends And often as comforters, too.
Incessantly they take care of us Consistently and without complaint Therefore men always respect and honour them and not only On World Women’s Day! Norbert van Tiggelen