Towards Better Democracy

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Filed under: poetry

Rollin’ an’ a Tumblin’ (em português, desconhecido)


Bem, eu rolei e eu caiu, chorei a noite inteira longo
Bem, eu rolei e eu caiu, chorei a noite inteira longo
Bem, eu acordei esta manhã, não sabia o certo do errado

Bem, eu disse ao meu bebê, antes de eu sair daquela cidade
Bem, eu disse ao meu bebê, antes de eu sair daquela cidade
Bem, não deixe que ninguém, queimar meu bar de whisky

Bem, ahh, mmm-hmmm, owww, oww ooo, aww, oww, oh
Aaa, mmm-hmmm, oww, oh oh eu juro Ωh owww, oww ooo, aww, oww, oh

Bem, se o rio que uísque, e eu era um pato divin ‘
Bem, se o rio que uísque, e eu era um pato divin ‘
Bem, eu iria mergulhar para o fundo, eu juro que nunca viria para cima

Bem, eu poderia um tinha uma religião, essa coisa ruim antigo em vez
Bem, eu poderia um tinha uma religião, essa coisa ruim antigo em vez
Bem, tudo o whisky e as mulheres, não me deixaria rezar

Bem, eu rolei e eu caiu, chorei a noite inteira longo
Bem, eu rolei e eu caiu, chorei a noite inteira longo
Se eu não tive má sorte eu não teria nenhuma sorte em tudo

Desconhecido

Worked from the American  Rollin’ and Tumblin’, first recorded in 1929
Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 15 April, 2016

 

Filed under: poetry, songs

Arredondamento do Cabo (Rounding the Cape em português; Roy Campbell, South African)


O baixo sol clareia as vôo da borrasca
Contra as penhascos as ondas de longa cinza são rolados
Onde Adamastor em dele corredores de mármore
Ameaça os filhos de Lusus como antigamente.

Fraca no o clarão para cima torres as forma destemida,
Em cujas abismal sombra puxou
Para baixo em nossas convés, de longe acima da tempestade,
Sorrir os cumes sombrios de sua mandíbula quebrada.

Em suas costas, ignorado, temos quebrado
Florestas inteiras: sem se importar com o sangue que já derramado,
Em trovões, ainda, suas profecias são faladas,
Pelos séculos, em silêncio, são cumpridas

Adeus, ótimo sombra! embora eu ir livre
Ainda, dos poderes das trevas você é Senhor:

Eu assisto o fantasma afundando no mar
De tudo quanto eu ter odiado e adorado.

A proa desliza suavemente sobre por mares quiescentes:
Mas onde o último ponto afunda no fundo,
O terreno encontra-se escuro debaixo abaixo da crescente ascensão,
E à noite, o negro, murmura em seu sono.

Worked from the English Rounding the Cape, 1930
Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 14 April, 2016

Copyright of the original is retained by the Copyright owner. The Copyright of this Translation is vested with the Author. The original, from which this translation is made, is used under the provisions of Section 107 of the US Copyright Act 1976, which allows for fair use of the original for translation purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship and research.

Filed under: poetry

Once to Arabia Came


Once to Arabia came
And its soil defiled
Infidels and unbelievers
Despoiled the waters of the Nile.

Again to Arabia came
Those who treated the land
As they would not their own
Planted in the desert sands
The seeds of confusion, toil
Among those they disowned.

Once again to Arabia came
Those curious to discover ancient ruins
Their contents away to take
As spoils coveted in their museums.

Once more to Arabia came
Those who dug up our sacred forbears’ bones
And our precious tombs did penetrate
For centuries did their secrets hold.

Again and again did to Arabia come
Foreigners who did not
Learn our living languages
But read those that are etched
Upon the walls and Temples aged.

Heedless to Arabia came
Those whom corrupting forces brought
Who with only deception and deceit
And sleigh of hand played.

And to Arabia came
Those Imperial Powers with their Great Game
Empire’d and carved up the lands, divided
With the cynicism which is their sole way.

Reckless came to Arabia those
That our desert flowers crushed
As the Axis and the Allied Powers waged
Their wars
upon our native soil.

Those that to Arabia came
Democracy professed
And left despots in their wake
The Prophet’s peoples all dispossessed.

Once to Arabia came
Those that have now left
Bewilderment amongst those they conquered
The natives of our lands bereft.

And now to Arabia come
Those Foreign Powers, World Order to maintain
To blaze upon, from the air, the peoples there
Their fatal guns and bombs.

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 13 April, 2016

 

Filed under: poetry

The Steady Gaze


The steady gaze
Not a look nor glance
Not a glimpse nor gapeBut a remorseless steady blaze
Of eyes held immortal as they stare out.

If eyes sightless be, what is it that they see
The Sphinx in Giza staring out the centuries
The gods above and statues in our midst
Those endless paintings where the gazers
Stare at us as we upon them gaze.

The human gaze cast upon
Those that cannot see
Strange, startling effigies.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 14 April, 2016

 

Filed under: poetry

Things I Have Never Seen


I have never seen a bird, the mother, lay her eggs,
Nor seen a snake upon the grass, poisonous or other
Nor worms copulate, end to end, upon their native soil
The hawk’s swoop I have seen but never the triumph of its prey caught.

A volcano spew its deadly lava high into the sky have I seen not
Nor have I its rumble heard nor its menacing tremble felt
A river dry in season high with not a drop of rain
Nor I ever seen nor heard a tree fall within its forest depths.

l have not been witness to a miscarriage, the infant disgorged in a flood of blood
Nor a drowning, a suicide; nor been at the scene of a fatal accidentNot a murder nor a man killed senselessly by his fellow men.

I have heard, read and seen photographs and been told them
Sure that such things occur for their tellers tell of what they have witnessed
Have reported of them, taken photographs and movies made
Why would I disbelieve a credible account
Of these I have never seen or felt and much more than can I recount.

Nor do I wish to not for naive I’m not nor gullible nor wish to shut out life
But am hardened by my own account of what I have witnessed and felt, some with
Pleasure, others dreadful felt such that I would not wish that pain be caused to others
But I am older now and have understanding of the dreadful things I have seen and felt.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 14 April, 2016

 

Filed under: poetry

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