Lyrics of Life

1 We, whose lungs fill with the sweetness of day. Who in May admire trees flowering Are better than those who perished. We, who taste of exo...

After every war someone has to clean up. Things won’t straighten themselves up, after all. Someone has to push the rubble to the side of the...

Go where those others went to the dark boundary for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize go upright among those who are on their...

Warm wind in the palm leaves, and I think of snow In my distance province when things happen That belonged to another, inconceivable life. T...

And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn...

निश्चय ही सफ़ेद का सबसे अच्छा वर्णन धूसर के ज़रिये होता है चिड़िया का पत्थर के ज़रिये सूरजमुखी के फूलों का दिसम्बर में पुराने दिनों में प्...

for Witek Piatkowski They beat him all day, and the next. Nothing doing. They beat him 'round the clock, all week. 'Talk, talk,...

"चुटकुलों, भँड़ैती, विद्रूप से मज़ेदार बनी कविता अब भी ख़ुश करना जानती है। तब उसकी श्रेष्ठता को बहुत सराहा जाता है। किन्तु जहाँ ज़िंदगी...

Your unhappy and silly youth. Your arrival from the provinces in the city. Misted-over windowpanes of streetcars, Restless misery of the...

The weary sun Gently parted with the sea, At this hour you declared, There is no love. I was saddened slightly - Without anguish, with...

मैं दीवारों की संध में उगती हूं जहां दीवारों का जोड़ होता है वहां जहां वे एक दूसरे से मिलती हैं जहां वे पक्की कर दी जाती हैं वहीं मैं ...

So what, if you've written a poem?! Somebody says it's lovely, Someone else says it's awful. Someone coughs, Someone groans....

Truth has no eyes no face no tongue truth is wingless it doesn’t live beyond the seven seas hills forests I think that truth is mor...

I had the dream where you read your own poems, Like those written sometime ago, only these were in the grey book written after death… A...

You whom I could not save Listen to me. Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another. I swear, there is in me no...

Death will not correct a single line of verse she is no proof-reader she is no sympathetic lady editor a bad metaphor is immortal a ...

Out of every hundred people, those who always know better: fifty-two. Unsure of every step: almost all the rest. Ready to help, if i...

My sister doesn't write poems, and it's unlikely that she'll suddenly start writing poems. She takes after her mother, who d...

Some people flee some other people. In some country under a sun and some clouds. They abandon something close to all they’ve got, sown ...

In the ruins of memory the house breathes through its mouldy surface touched by strangers' looks surrenders lowering eyelids in abandone...