My oldest brother wrote a large amount of poetry before his death in 2020. Now his poems are all my favorite poems.

A young woman/ Planting seedlings/ Plants towards her crying baby

-Takari Kikaku

Poems are like the seasons. My favorites change, but this poem has been on my mind a lot lately

On Beauty, by Khalil Gibran

The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.” And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

I can’t get into poetry. I don’t know why, and trying to like most poetry just feels like such a contrived effort for me. I feel like I’m missing out on something good, like my brain’s tastebuds for poetry are dead :(

That said, maybe I should try to read more poetry and see if there’s something that hits me.

It is in hindi. By Dinkar.

समर निंद्य है धर्मराज, पर, कहो, शान्ति वह क्या है, जो अनीति पर स्थित होकर भी बनी हुई सरला है?

War is despicable, O ethical king,

But what is the peace that seems obvious even atop bad policy?

सुख-समृद्धि क विपुल कोष संचित कर कल, बल, छल से, किसी क्षुधित क ग्रास छीन, धन लूट किसी निर्बल से।

Collecting all prosperity and happiness by hook or by crook,

Snatching food from the hungry, looting the weak

सब समेट, प्रहरी बिठला कर कहती कुछ मत बोलो, शान्ति-सुधा बह रही, न इसमें गरल क्रान्ति का घोलो।

Putting sentries after collecting everything, It says don’t speak up. A river of peace flows, don’t mix the poison of revolution.

हिलो-डुलो मत, हृदय-रक्त अपना मुझको पीने दो, अचल रहे साम्रज्य शान्ति का, जियो और जीने दो।

Don’t move, I want to drink your blood. Long live this peace, live and let live.

सच है, सत्ता सिमट-सिमट जिनके हाथों में आयी, शान्तिभक्त वे साधु पुरुष क्यों चाहें कभी लड़ाई?

It is true for whoever gains power, why would that saint want a fight.

सुख का सम्यक्-रूप विभाजन जहाँ नीति से, नय से संभव नहीं; अशान्ति दबी हो जहाँ खड्ग के भय से,

Where an equitable division of happiness is not possible as policy. Where unrest is suppressed by force

जहाँ पालते हों अनीति-पद्धति को सत्ताधारी, जहाँ सुत्रधर हों समाज के अन्यायी, अविचारी;

Where bad policy is followed by the powerful. Where ideologues of society are unjust and non thinking

नीतियुक्त प्रस्ताव सन्धि के जहाँ न आदर पायें; जहाँ सत्य कहनेवालों के सीस उतारे जायें;

Where good suggestions for peace are not respected. Where truth speakers are killed.

जहाँ खड्ग-बल एकमात्र आधार बने शासन का; दबे क्रोध से भभक रहा हो हृदय जहाँ जन-जन का;

Where force is the only basis of governance. Where every heart is burning with suppressed anger.

सहते-सहते अनय जहाँ मर रहा मनुज का मन हो; समझ कापुरुष अपने को धिक्कार रहा जन-जन हो;

Where human hearts are dying enduring injustice. Where people are condemning themselves as cowards.

अहंकार के साथ घृणा का जहाँ द्वन्द्व हो जारी; ऊपर शान्ति, तलातल में हो छिटक रही चिनगारी;

Where disgust clashes with self respect.

Where peace up there hides sparks below.

आगामी विस्फोट काल के मुख पर दमक रहा हो; इंगित में अंगार विवश भावों के चमक रहा हो;

Where the coming blast is obvious on face of time. Where the fire below shines through constrained faces.

पढ कर भी संकेत सजग हों किन्तु, न सत्ताधारी; दुर्मति और अनल में दें आहुतियाँ बारी-बारी;

But the powerful don’t read the signs. But just add fuel to the fire.

कभी नये शोषण से, कभी उपेक्षा, कभी दमन से, अपमानों से कभी, कभी शर-वेधक व्यंग्य-वचन से।

Though exploitation, through neglect, through suppression, through insults and through heart piercing jokes.

दबे हुए आवेग वहाँ यदि उबल किसी दिन फूटें, संयम छोड़, काल बन मानव अन्यायी पर टूटें;

If the suppressed emotions burst there someday. Losing patience if humans attack the unjust like death incarnate.

कहो, कौन दायी होगा उस दारुण जगद्दहन का अहंकार य घृणा? कौन दोषी होगा उस रण का?

So who would be blamed for that arson of the world. Self respect or disgust? Which will you blame?

I like the fall
The mist and all
I like the night owl’s lonely call
And wailing sound
Of wind around

I like the gray
November day
And bare, dead boughs that coldly sway
Against my pane
I like the rain

I like to sit
And laugh at it
And tend my cozy fire a bit
I like the fall
The mist and all

The sky will always shine blue and the earth

Will endure long and flourish in Spring.

But you, mankind, how long will you live?

From The Drinking Song of the Sorrows of the Earth.

It is a piece of Chinese poetry by Li T’ai-po and the German translation was used as the libretto for the first movement of Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde.

deleted by creator

deleted by creator

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. It’s the beautifullest English I’ve ever read.

"Tabacaria"¹ by Álvaro de Campos (a Fernando Pessoa heteronym). Here’s an English translation.

It’s regarded by many as one of the best poems by him, and it is also a favourite of mine. The original version conveys so much in a brilliant flow of words, which, unfortunately, gets a somewhat lost with translations.

---

¹ From the “official” archive.

---

Edit: links

in Just- by e e cummings

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47247/in-just

I love how cummings creates visuals both through his diction choices as well as other tools like spacing, capitalization, etc.

Lenin walks around the world. Frontiers cannot bar him. Neither barracks nor barricades impede. Nor does barbed wire scar him.

Lenin walks around the world. Black, brown, and white receive him. Language is no barrier. The strangest tongues believe him.

Lenin walks around the world. The sun sets like a scar. Between the darkness and the dawn There rises a red star.

-Langston Hughes

D. N. Aidit’s Sekarang Ia Sudah Dewasa (menjambut ulang tahun ke-35 PKI)