AN OPENING FOR A NOVEL (excerpt from my book “Extraordinary Story of a Turnskin”) “…And suck the blood of all thy race.” (George Gordon Byron) “…and people do not, as a rule, believe in Vampires!” (Stanislaus Eric Stenbock. The Sad Story of a Vampire) In the summer of 1888, a group of good friends … Read more
The Winter Tremble blank verse by Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898), my translation Always slow, among flowers and deities, the clock striking thirteen. Who previously owned this Saxon clock? Picture them bringing it from Saxony by those old slow stagecoaches. (Weird shadows looming over the old windowpanes.) Who did ever look at oneself in the Venetian … Read more
The Butterfly by Afanasy Fet (1820-1892) You’re right. An outline of Air I am so sweet. My velvet with its living blinking– only two wings. Don’t ask me whence, what brought me, where I speed. I light the flower down, here, and now I breathe. How long, so aimless, so effortless, I want to … Read more
Dark night has choked daylight. Day is dead. It won’t come back to senses any more. You killed the time again. You must be mad To waste the only treasure you afford. Time is for living not for false alarm About future and the outcome Of the events that are not bringing harm Just now. … Read more
Translated from Russian by Victor Sklyarov (Russian original and her other poems are at www.allthelyrics.com ) I don’t want you to be neither lover, nor friend, nor the kind. Remain sole like the wind got entangled low in dust. And my words will empoison return route you wont find, Our ships having touched sculls at … Read more
When I was in the middle of my school years my family moved from suburbian 1-flat private house to 2-room state-owned standard flat on the other end of the city of Krasnodar. I remained in the same school since there were only 2 advanced English studies schools in Krasnodar. Each day (save Sunday) I voyaged … Read more
Translated from Russian by Victor P. Sklyarow We are not destined to embrace The way our word percepted is And the compassion, like God’s Grace, Depends on Heaven we’re beneath Victor P. Sklyarow is an experienced translator and poet from Novorossiysk, Russia.
… Touch sunset as night falls. Slowly say goodbye to feast, wine, even nothingness then, like dew quiet in the morning light, evaporate Translated by Anthony Rudolf with the author *Hadaa Sendoo is a multi-award winning poet from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. He is founder and leading figure of the World Poetry Almanac.
An always open door In a silver night The sky is crowded with stars. Green waves are surging and soaring In the forest of wind An open door is white like Mongolian yurts, Is inlaid with blue sky and clouds. Nomads are never lost, They don’t like the tears of city people Translated by Anthony … Read more
Translated from Russian by Victor P. Sklyarow Dark abyss of eyes, oh, what bliss of eyes Penetrating eyes, and frustrating eyes! I’m adoring you, I’m afraid of you, I met your power in an ill hour! Be that hour cursed, I met you for worst Dark abyss of eyes, those wistful eyes! Having not met … Read more