Wiegenlied – Maria Adétola Monteiro
I dream of my infant’s hand
a child so long forgotten
singing lullabyes, praying tunes
almost seeing that it’s rottenRead More →
I dream of my infant’s hand
a child so long forgotten
singing lullabyes, praying tunes
almost seeing that it’s rottenRead More →
и снова
красок
всё больше
на сгоревших счастливых крыльяхRead More →
The moon is hanging like a fruit
forgotten in an autumn’s garden
and wakes the dream-life with a hoot
of all that in a dream will happenRead More →
Дом без крова
Дитя без кроватки
Стол без хлеба
Звезда без света.Read More →
Kurja valu ma muudan
kurjaks metskassiks
ta jookseb mu eest ära
aga kui ta tahab tagasi tulla,Read More →
Halyna Petrosanyak, poet, essayist, fiction writer, and translator, grew up in the Ukrainian Carpathian mountains, ans now lives in SwitzerlandRead More →
Zurückzukehren in des Vaters Hause,
als in Demut Abend zu verlöschen droht
und sanften Leib die sanfte Nacht entfalte
die Liebkosung untröstlich und halbtotRead More →
No, we don’t choose the times we bear —
They’re forged in fire, built from despair.
And still, we cheer the newborn light,
While echoes fold into the nightRead More →
Wait for me, sunshine!
I am still not quite ready
For the next night-
My day isn’t over yet!
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