Literary Union Magazine: 2020-04-26

Monday, April 27, 2020

Mirela Necula

Ascultă-mi gândurile
și umbrele ce ne-au condus,
ținuți de mână prin prăpăstiile care curg,
într-o lume pătimașă, în blând amurg.

Și i-a încremenit conturul,
când inima înbujorată arde ca focul,
izbită de soare, de tine, de dor,
de râsul molipsitor al verii nesfârșite, Mi Amor!

Mi-e dor de potop de rai
de candela cu o aripă aprinsă
ce liberă stă de al tău trup sublim
și metaforic vorbind
la ea mă înclin.

La veșnicie te cer să te ating,
de-a dreptul până la călcâi
încătușând iubirea în piatră nestemată
ca dar pentru viața ta netrăită, nepătată.

I miss
Mirela Necula

Listen to my thoughts
and the shadows that led us,
held by the hand through the flowing abysses,
in a passionate world, in gentle twilight.

And the outline has frozen,
when the flushed heart burn like fire,
hit by the sun, by you, by longing,
by the contagious laughter of the endless summer, Mi Amor!

I miss the flood of heaven
of the candle with a lighted wing
That freely stays on your sublime body
and metaphorically speaking
I bow to it.

To foverer I ask to embrace you,
straight to the heel
handcuffing love in precious stone
as a gift for your unlived, spotless life.

Nidhi Kunvarani

Song of A Divinangel!
************************

While,standing on the shore of life
Fighting against the life's strife
Violene's rhymes still jingling in my heart
Ignites hope of the return of my soulmate
The sun is near to set,though;not end her faith
The way everyday sun goes down
But;returns after the dark in the dawn
The way, one day my tunes of his violene will reach there
In his ears,he will return from anywhere i'm sure
The destiny can't be that much merciless
"O my dear! you will have to come back
I wish!you'll be here while morning awake! "

Violeta Dimitrić

THORNS OF NIGHT

From the trice of melancholy

I’m falling through lightness passage

Right into your dream

As a dark shadow

As stormy night thief

I grab

I’ hunting my footsteps

I follow you throughout the wasteland

My heels are bleeding

Barbed wire is making a vortex

Around my frail ankles

Densely darkness everywhere

Only the smell of your blood is leading me

Through the wasteland of mirk

I tumble

Trembling legs spiked with thorns

Can’t walk

They lead me nowhere

I blend in with the dreams of wearies

Whom even Moon doesn’t protect anymore

He laughs derisively

Sickle like, young

He just doesn’t want to unfold the thorns of night

With the ray of light

Elisa Mascia

Country: Italy

Title: The divine and the mystery.

They adorn red roses
the precious silk headdress.
The fruit of your thoughts
in silence,
in sculptures of angels
and blessed faces.
Souls on the way,
light in the heart
who watches
above loved ones
that smell of love.

Sabah Al-Zubeidi, Irak

SUNT LIBER

M-am născut,

din aur pur,

din pântecele perseverenței și al răbdării.

amețit de lumina zorilor.

Florile s-au plecat

în ziua în care m-am născut

și era binecuvântată cu stropi de ploaie.

M-am născut și am crescut acolo

În patria care m-a-nbrățișat cu dor

care-mi va rămâne de-apururi

în amintire și în conștiință.

Acum viețuiesc undeva departe…

Aici m-am născut din nou,

toate visele-mi sunt împlinite.

Ador viața!

Vreau să fiu liber

Ca pasărea

Care zboară spre ceruri

Nu suport moartea și devastările,

Trăiesc așa cum vreau.

Așa mă voi odihni odată

Intr-o țară liberă…

Sunt liber…!

Nu gândesc rău.

Peppe Altimare

"UN TREN PARA LAS ESTRELLAS"

Historias: son como caras,
como personas o como el mundo
se abren a lo desconocido
ellos deambulan por ella
sin detenerse en una perspectiva.
Efímero, buscan su camino
en las almas de las personas
para generar amor
Este sentimiento lábil, que
llegando a las alturas de lo desconocido,
se enfrenta a un mundo extraño! en la irrealidad de
su grandeza
en relaciones frágiles sin futuro
de estos sentimientos fugaces y fugaces
a veces profundo pero ambiguo,
asoma mañana
donde brilla un horizonte
lleno de expectativas,
un azul desteñido
lo que significa todo o nada
que tranquiliza y preocupa,
donde sin embargo usar
nuestra camisa de seda
y
sin pasar por la estación,
tomar el primer tren a las estrellas.

Annie Johnson

Night Song

Softly the wind tiptoes through the trees,
The leaves hang spellbound in the moonlight.
Reverently the crickets chirp at the door jamb;
The moths flutter in the lamplight at the window.
The night sings in hushed tones of starlit magic
Summoning the romantic heart to worship
In the sacred cathedral of Holy tenderness
Descending on a peaceful, dreamy congregation.
You cross the threshold of my dreams;
A silhouette stored in memory’s wonder;
Wrapped in the heart beats of time and longing
Ever illumined by the mystery of love.
Though distance spanned a lifetime of emptiness,
We conquered the eons of each dancing mile;
Love is boundless in its destiny of intent;
We are proof of its vast reaches through time.
In this timeless record being recorded
Let the world know that love found us;
You are my solemn vow of infinite love
Written on the wailing wall of timelessness.

HONG NGOC CHAU

DON’T WORRY! I’M HERE
ĐỪNG LO CÓ TÔI ĐÂY!

Tôi muốn nói ngàn lời cảm tạ
Biết ơn người đã ở bên tôi
Qua cơn bệnh, tưởng tôi không thể
Hy vọng gì lưu lại cõi đời

I want to say a thousand words of thanks
Grateful for the people having their hands
To cure my illness, I thought I could not pass over
Not to hope to be alive in this worldly life as ever

Khi được biết vô cùng sợ hãi
Tôi như thuyền nhỏ giữa trùng khơi
Sóng cao, gió lớn, giông vần vũ
Mười chín (19) co-vi đã mắc rồi

When knowing it I was scared actually
I was like a small boat on the deep seas
High waves, strong winds, and thunderstorms
I was infected by the Covid-19 in a certain form

Không nhớ bao ngày trong bệnh viện
Toàn thân thường ướt đẫm mồ hôi
Mê man, run rẩy trong cơn sốt
Chỉ nhớ “Đừng lo đã có tôi”

I don’t remember how long I was in hospital
My body was often wet by sweat on the whole
I was sometimes in a coma, trembling in fever
I only remember: “Don’t worry, I’m here!”

Bác sĩ viết câu trên ngực áo
Như đang nhắc nhở tâm tư tôi
Sẵn sàng đánh bại con vi-rút
Tôi sẽ có ngày lành bệnh thôi

On the shirt at his chest, a doctor’s slogan
That touched strongly to my self-conscience
He was ready to defeat the virus attacking
My illness would gradually be healing

Ôi, những thiên thần mặc áo trắng
Những người thay Chúa đến từ Trời
Cứu nhân độ thế qua cơn dịch
Của quỉ Sa-tăng chống lại Ngài.

Oh, the angels in white came from heaven
Substituting God’s role, they have taken
To save human lives through the pandemic
Devil Satan rebels against Him, it’s so tragic

Tôi rất vui mừng ngày xuất viện
Viết thư bày tỏ được đôi lời
Tri ân bác sĩ và y tá
Vì bịt khẩu trang, kín mặt người

Leaving the hospital I’m in the joyful mood
To write a few words to express my gratitude
To the doctors and nurses who cured me
They masked almost to hide the face, you see

Cầu chúc ân nhân không biết mặt
Âm thầm chữa bệnh khắp nơi nơi
Luôn luôn vô nhiễm theo thiên mệnh
Anh dũng xông pha đã cứu đời

I wish benefactors hidden face there
They are curing patients everywhere
Never being infected due to their divine duty
They brave to save people living in calamity

Djurica Edelinski

THE CAGE

The prisoners in the cage

Mourn their own destiny,

Silent in silence ...

They dream that evil will pass.

The invisible cage

Trap without wire,

Restricted freedom,

Hides the right face.

Trapped in a cage

They sing about freedom,

Time passes ...

Singers as slaves last!

Joanna Svensson

PEN WONDERS INTERNATIONAL
WILLIAMS PEN - a weekly poetic analysis on Sundays

The Poem
THE SILENCE - THE HEALING POWER
I have heard the voice of silence
A voice I never heard before
I thought that silence was dumb
I thought it was both deaf and blind
I felt its pretense clearly
So comforting it felt, indeed
Imagine, just to be
Alone - together with silence
Far away from all duties
Far away from all doings
Far away from reality
Far away from everyone
Imagine - just silence and me
A so, today - for the very first time
Its voice I heard - it whispered so friendly
-I am the one who have healing powers
When there are too many voices
When there are too many tones
Of different sorts - of different kinds
When you cannot think clearly
You mobilize your strength
Your adrenaline is pumping hard
To make it through the day
To manage serving everyone
Living up to others expectations
To smile here and there
Though I most of all
Want to be left alone
I feel so deeply privileged
To be chosen to hear the voice of silence
The voice that only I can hear
In my secret temple of peace
A temple with heavy wooden gates
That has locked out the outside world
Where I can feel
the healing power of silence
It sweeps me calmly
It makes me sense
The basic meaning of life
I truly enjoy my silence
Here in my temple of peace
Where I deliberately closed the gates
The gates to the outside world
Here - where no one enters
No one against my will
Here - where no one enters
No one without my consent
Here - where I can enjoy my silence
And finally can be at peace!
Swenstorp, Sweden 23/4/20
©® Joanna Svensson
SYNOPSIS
The silence gives us enough time to change and to be different than others. The silence of a silent prayer or retreat is not an end in itself and is not intended as an ascetical practice or as a penance but to enable you to get in touch with God and what is deepest within all of us.
ANALYSIS
Good poetry has healing powers. The human body is even more intelligent than the mind. It is connected with a timeless wisdom. And since the body is intelligent, it knows how to heal itself. If allowed to do so. But, among us the art of permission or allowing has died an untimely death
“A so, today - for the very first time
Its voice I heard - it whispered so friendly
-I am the one who have healing powers
When there are too many voices
When there are too many tones
Of different sorts - of different kinds..”
Above lines are highly poetic and elegant in its structure and expertise. Congratulations dear Honorable Poet Joanna Svensson
We all believe that God speaks to the heart of each individual, but we probably will not hear God's voice as little if we fill our days with the noise and busy-ness. We can try to fill the emptiness within and in between the crowded busy life without that, we are unable to be in silence, which is the most healing power dormant in human
“ A temple with heavy wooden gates
That has locked out the outside world
Where I can feel
the healing power of silence
It sweeps me calmly
It makes me sense
The basic meaning of life…”
The above lines are simple and celestial in its composition.
APPRECIATION
There are times when we are to stay behind noiseless moods and moments and there are times when we are to speak up. The times when we are to remain silent are when we’re removing ourselves from conflict, listening to the words from God in silence.
Sometimes we must go before the Lord and stand still in His presence. Sometimes we need to be silent and get away from distractions to hear God, Almighty. The poem contributes a good message to all.
Dear Honorable Poet Joanna Svensson, please accept my congratulations for sharing such a simple poem with a good theme on silence. Stay blessed/ love and Light
Williamsji Maveli
Author

Okloho Solomon

In a land of shadows
Snitches and leeches serve
as gods
You see moving shadows
But no living being
Cock crow at dawn
Manipulation and impurity grows
And the moving train
Thus loosing it's bolts
Leaving it's coaches behind.

TỐNG THU NGÂN (MIMOSA TÍM)

TỐNG THU NGÂN

(MIMOSA TÍM)
________________
TTN 657
THƯƠNG SAO BÁNH KHỌT TÉP RIÊU
(Ngụ Ngôn Tình)

Thương sao bánh khọt tép riêu
Thương sao lá chuối những chiều đợi mong
Thương sao lúa trỗ đòng đòng
Thương chiều nước nổi cánh đồng xôn xao

Thương sao bánh khọt vàng phau
Mùi dừa thơm phức, lao xao nghệ vàng
Thương sao con tép riêu vàng
Cọng hành xanh mướt rộn vang tiếng cười

Thương sao con đã lên mười
Lỗ tai chưa xỏ tóc cười húi cua
Thương sao ai bán mà mua
Bánh khọt thơm lựng, đồ chua cam vàng

Thương sao... trong nắng chiều tàn
Mù u than thở bên hàng hoa cau
Thương sao trời đổ mưa mau
Mẹ đi xúc tép trên đầu quấn khăn

Thương sao mấy nếp khăn rằn
Chịu thương, chịu khó, nhọc nhằn, đắng cay
Thương sao chén nước mắm cay
Vàng mơ bánh khọt ăn hoài vẫn ngon

Ngoài sân cam, quýt, bòn bon
Cải xanh một rỗ ai còn nhớ không
Xa quê nhớ cọng cải ngòng
Vàng mơ bánh khọt bên đồng lúa reo...