ܘܲܠܲܘ

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝘁 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀
by 𝘚𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘢𝘸𝘢
tr. (Eng.) 𝘓𝘰𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘒𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪
Cover art 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘢

If you love 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒, you'll adore this moving tale about books and people who love books!

www.harpercollins.com/products/the...

www.yukoart.com/work/the-cat...

#books #booksky

On the River (From the River Light Blue), by Georgia O'Keeffe, 1964, 📸 by Ron Hoskins

#cantonese #poem #poetry #translation

𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪(fine line)-style painting depicting a bowl-cut young girl covered in mosquito bites, elbows resting on a white-green plaid table cloth, mosquitos in the air, flowers, with Cantonese inscription in 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨, an imitation Song-dynasty typeface, and classically poetic structure. 𝗗𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝘀, 2012 by 𝗝𝗼𝗲𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗮-𝘆𝗶𝗻 梁嘉賢

春天來不來 我還開不開 狂蜂愛不愛 蜜糖採不採 是否香味改 引錯蚊子來 害我癢難耐 花容也難再

𝗝𝗼𝗲𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗮-𝘆𝗶𝗻 梁嘉賢 b. 1976, active United States 𝗗𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆 𝗔𝘀𝗸𝘀, 2012 Ink and color on paper Joey Leung Ka-yin contemporizes the 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪 (fine line) painting technique by using it to depict imagined narratives grounded in daily Hong Kong life. 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘴 is part of her 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 series, in which Leung focuses on the emotion of indecision. The inexpressive young girls with luscious black hair in these works were partially inspired by Tang-dynasty portraits of court ladies, who were pictured as enigmatic, melancholic, and detached from reality. Leung's humorous Cantonese text merges satirical language with classical poetic structure, reading like a single-panel comic strip with an inscription that mimics 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨, an imitation Song-dynasty typeface. Translation of inscription (rhyming when spoken in Cantonese): Will spring come this year To bloom or not to bloom Will the bees madly love me Will they come and gather honey Has my scent been changed Bewitching mosquitos to come So unbearable is the itchy feeling I cannot hold my elegance anymore Translation by Raphael Chau Tsz-kin

𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟
𝑇𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚
𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒
𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦
𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑
𝐵𝑒𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒
𝑆𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝙹𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝙻𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙺𝚊-𝚢𝚒𝚗 梁嘉賢
𝚃𝚛. 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚞 𝚃𝚜𝚣-𝚔𝚒𝚗
#smallpoemsunday

I have been at odds with the distractions of social media as of late, aware of the mortal demi entities working against me. I think it's time to disappear for awhile, away from the manipulative algorithms. I need to reacquaint myself with myself. I need to create for myself only.

#poetry #mypoetry

#BOTD 1900/06/29 (125 years ago)
tr. by Google Translate

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴; 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘪𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚
Antonine de Saint-Exupéry

jane hirshfield • the october palace

#poetry

As humans, we are so short-sighted,
Fighting and killing each other
Over our differences -
All insignificant,
When faced with the vast
Expanse of the
Universe.
We’re just
Ants.

#poetry #nonet #life #war #pacifism

#poetry (1/1)

i want you to feel your anger
hold it in your hands
give it shape and form
give it mass and weight

sense the outline of your anger
its manifold angles
is it sharp does it sting
the flesh of your palm

feel the pain of your anger
prickly and provocative
let the endorphins flow
your mind come to focus

do these and you are ready
to use your anger
and impose your will
against a callous world

(2/2)

The Glazed Door by Philippe Derchain (1873-1947)

Tr. by Google Translate

The Swan, No. 24, Group IX, by Hilma af Klint, 1914, 📸 by me

Appreciate the invite. I got too much on my plate as it is now, so I'd always be playing catch-up. Maybe later on!!

The End and the beginning After every war someone has to tidy up. Things won't pick themselves up, after all. Someone has to shove the rubble to the roadsides so the carts loaded with corpses can get by. Someone has to trudge through sludge and ashes, through the sofa springs, the shards of glass, the bloody rags. Someone has to lug the post to prop the wall, someone has to glaze the window, set the door in its frame. No sound bites, no photo opportunities, and it takes years. All the cameras have gone to other wars. The bridges need to be rebuilt, the railroad stations, too. Shirtsleeves will be rolled to shreds. 286 Someone, broom in hand, still remembers how it was. Someone else listens, nodding his unshattered head. But others are bound to be bustling nearby who'll find all that a little boring. From time to time someone still must dig up a rusted argument from underneath a bush and haul it off to the dump. Those who knew what this was all about must make way for those who know little. And less than that. And at last nothing less than nothing. Someone has to lie there in the grass that covers up the causes and effects with a cornstalk in his teeth, gawking at clouds.

After every war
someone has to tidy up.
Things won’t pick
themselves up, after all.

Someone has to shove
the rubble to the roadsides
so the carts loaded with corpses
can get by.

-Wisława Szymborska, “The End and the Beginning” (t. Cavanagh & Barańczak)
#everynightapoem #war

I should clarify, the theme has been around forever, but Nietzsche has distilled it into a very adaptable one-liner, among others

Nietzsche's 𝘉𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 (trans. R.J. Hollingdale) Pub. Penguin Classics

#146 He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.

Picked up 𝘉𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 (BGE) on a whim and surprised to come across this immensely fruitful progenitor to countless quotes and memes in pop culture.
#booksky #philosophysky

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐛 (partial quote) 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝐼𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒'𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒-𝑡𝑖𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡'𝑠 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦        - 𝙻𝚒𝚞 𝚇𝚒𝚊𝚘𝚋𝚘            𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜. 𝙹𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐

Liu Xiaobo (刘晓波; pinyin: Liú Xiǎobō; 28 December 1955 – 13 July 2017) was a Chinese literary critic, human rights activist, philosopher & Nobel Peace Prize laureate
From "June Fourth, a Tomb" in (posthumous) anthology: www.graywolfpress.org/books/june-f...
#humanrights #poem #poetry #universalrights

divergent

words on a page
words on a screen
words in my head
splinter the dreams

when words ring true
a sweet surprise
night blows out days
ending rhyme schemes

#poetry #vss365 #splinter #micropoetry

A New Day.
Aziz Sulamanov

Plenty We did not need a river the stones on the beach, already damp we sat. We did not need birdsong the children laughing, already deaf we talked. We did not need the flowers the smell of wild garlic, already full we breathed.

At the @hayfestival.bsky.social at the moment and enjoyed a lovely workshop with Casey Bailey yesterday, this little snippet is from there.. #poem #smallpoemsunday

Passing by boathouse
Reflecting off still water
Itinerant girls
Dressed up for hot summer fun
Enticed by distant rainbow

#acrostic #poem #poetry #smallpoemsunday #tanka

I scanned times before us, looked to times yet to come, read the measures of men, and the ends of their plans: who found wanting in virtue may be put to use? who found wanting in good may be still retained? 瞻前而顧後兮相觀民之計極。 夫敦非義而可用兮？ 孰非善而可服？ -from the Li Sao attributed to Qu Yuan (ca. 340-278 B.C.) (Stephen Owen trans.)

Qu Yuan's 'Songs of Chu' are the laments of one born to "an age foul and murky"

Sighs come from me often
the heart swells within
sad that I and these times
never will be matched.

As it is then, as it is now. 4/

For #everynightapoem on each year’s #Duanwu. #DragonBoatFestival #端午

Relieved of context
Colorless green idea
Absurdist humor

#micropoetry #poem #poetry #senryu

Another Storm, by Lee Krasner, 1963, 📸 by Adam Davy

Dramatically lit against the dark background, Everett Shinn's acrobat holds not only the attention of the viewer in such a way that we can almost feel the anticipation. The acrobat's fall was part of a popular vaudeville act touring American theatres in the 1920s.

LANDSCAPES OF LUNA By BOB OLSEN Cleaving the void with our rocket tubes blazing Hurtles our craft on its hazardous race! First men are we to see sights so amazing First of all humans to voyage through space! Himdreds of thousands of miles from our flier Swims Mother Earth in a sable-black sky. Blazes the svm like a huge ball of fire: Lima, beneath us, rolls regally by. Vistas unfolding: Stupendous! Enthralling! Sea of Tranquillity: Silvery! Rare! Clavius’ crater: Colossal! Appalling! Fretted with jewels of crystallized air! Far to the south loom the Liebnitz and Dorfel Mountains, their flanks swathed in Stygian night. Seven miles high thrust those jagged peaks awful Gilding their crowns with the sun’s ceaseless light! Interest? Naught are my comrades displa3dng. Wonder? They leave all observing to me. Bridge interstellar we four have been playing; During this hand, I’m the dummy, you see!

The Banality of Wonder

Bob Olsen's poem "Landscapes of Luna" (1935) in Amazing Stories (December 1937)

#scifi #sciencefiction #poetry