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Kumulipo
(Hawaiian creation chant)
At the time that turned the heat of the earth,
At the time when the heavens turned and changed,
At the time when the light of the sun was subdued
To cause light to break forth,
At the time of the night of Makalii (winter)
Then began the slime which established the earth,
The source of deepest darkness.
Of the depth of darkness, of the depth of darkness,
Of the darkness of the sun, in the depth of night,
It is night,
So was night born
Kumulipo
O ke au i kahuli wela ka honua
O ke au i kahuli lole ka lani
O ke au i kukaiaka ka la.
E hoomalamalama i ka malama
O ke au o Makali’i ka po
O ka walewale hookumu honua ia
O ke kumu o ka lipo, i lipo ai
O ke kumu o ka Po, i po ai
O ka lipolipo, o ka lipolipo
O ka lipo o ka la, o ka lipo o ka po
Po wale hoi
Hanau ka po
Queen Liliʻuokalani
(1838-1917)
Kumulipo
Hawaiian creation chant
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
Queen Liliʻuokalani was born on September 2, 1838 in Honolulu, Hawaii, as Lydia Kamakaeha. She was proclaimed queen in 1891. The last monarch of Hawaii, her reign was short-lived due to a U. S. military-backed coup in 1893.
More in: # Classic Poetry Archive, Archive K-L, Archive K-L
Mein blaues Klavier
Ich habe zu Hause ein blaues Klavier
Und kenne doch keine Note.
Es steht im Dunkel der Kellertür,
Seitdem die Welt verrohte.
Es spielten Sternenhände vier
-Die Mondfrau sang im Boote-
Nun tanzen die Ratten im Geklirr.
Zerbrochen ist die Klaviatür…..
Ich beweine die blaue Tote.
Ach liebe Engel öffnet mir
-Ich aß vom bitteren Brote-
Mir lebend schon die Himmelstür-
Auch wider dem Verbote.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
Mein blaues Klavier
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More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Lasker-Schüler, Else
From the Number One Sunday Times bestselling author of milk and honey and the sun and her flowers comes her greatly anticipated third collection of poetry.
Rupi Kaur constantly embraces growth, and in home body, she walks readers through a reflective and intimate journey visiting the past, the present and the potential of the self. home body is a collection of raw, honest conversations with oneself – reminding readers to fill up on love, acceptance, community, family, and embrace change. illustrated by the author, themes of nature and nurture, light and dark, rest here.
i dive into the well of my body
and end up in another world
everything i need
already exists in me
there’s no need
to look anywhere else
– home
rupi kaur is a poet. artist. and performer. as a 21-year-old university student rupi wrote. illustrated. and self-published her first poetry collection milk and honey. next came its artistic sibling the sun and her flowers. these collections have sold over 8 million copies and have been translated into over 40 languages. home body is her third collection of poetry. rupi’s work touches on love. loss. trauma. healing. femininity. and migration. she feels most at home when creating art or performing her poetry onstage.
Rupi Kaur
Home Body
Paperback
ISBN : 9781471196720
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
November 17, 2020
English Poetry
$13.59
# new poetry
Rupi Kaur
Home Body
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: - Book News, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Art & Literature News, Kaur, Rupi
Versöhnung
Es wird ein großer Stern in meinen Schoß fallen …
Wir wollen wachen die Nacht,
In den Sprachen beten,
Die wie Harfen eingeschnitten sind.
Wir wollen uns versöhnen die Nacht –
So viel Gott strömt über.
Kinder sind unsere Herzen,
Die möchten ruhen müdesüß.
Und unsere Lippen wollen sich küssen,
Was zagst du?
Grenzt nicht mein Herz an deins –
Immer färbt dein Blut meine Wangen rot.
Wir wollen uns versöhnen die Nacht,
Wenn wir uns herzen, sterben wir nicht.
Es wird ein großer Stern in meinen Schoß fallen.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
Versöhnung
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More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Lasker-Schüler, Else
Going Down Grand, the first full-length anthology of Grand Canyon poetry, gathers the voices of cowboys, explorers, river-runners, hikers, artists, geologists, rangers, and others whose words bear witness to this complex and magnificent place.
For readers on the river, the trails, the rim, or beyond, the poems on these pages will make fine canyon company.
GOING DOWN GRAND, the first full length anthology of Grand Canyon poems, gathers the voices and thoughts of explorers, cowboys, river-runners, hikers, artists, geologists, rangers, and others whose words reveal and bear witness to this complex and magnificent place. For readers on the river, the trails, the rim, or beyond, the poems on these pages will make fine canyon company.
Co-editor Rick Kempa has been hiking in and writing about the Grand Canyon since 1974. He is also editor of the anthology ON FOOT: Grand Canyon Backpacking Stories (Vishnu Temple Press, 2014) and has authored two books of poems, Keeping the Quiet and Ten Thousand Voices.
Rick Kempa (M.F.A. U of Arizona) teaches writing and philosophy at Western Wyoming College. His work has appeared in Puerto del Sol, High Plains Literary Review, Teaching English in the Two-Year College and Tumblewords: Writers Reading the West (U of Nevada P, 1995).
Going Down Grand: Poems from the Canyon
Edited by Peter Anderson & Rick Kempa
2015
Publisher: Lithic Press
Product Number:9780988384651
ISBN0988384655
Binding: Paperback
Pages:148
Price: $ 17.00
# new books
Going Down Grand: Poems from the Canyon
Edited by Peter Anderson & Rick Kempa
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: #More Poetry Archives, - Book News, Archive K-L, Cowboy Poetry, Natural history, Western Fiction, Western Non-Fiction
Von weit
Dein Herz ist wie die Nacht so hell,
Ich kann es sehn
– Du denkst an mich – es bleiben alle Sterne stehn.
Und wie der Mond von Gold dein Leib
Dahin so schnell
Von weit er scheint.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
Von weit
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Lasker-Schüler, Else
Als der blaue Reiter war gefallen …
Griffen unsere Hände sich wie Ringe;-
Küßten uns wie Brüder auf den Mund.
Harfen wurden unsere Augen,
Als sie weinten: Himmlisches Konzert.
Nun sind unsere Herzen Waisenengel.
Seine tiefgekränkte Gottheit
Ist erloschen in dem Bilde: Tierschicksale.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
Als der blaue Reiter war gefallen . . .
(Nachruf von Else Lasker-Schüler an den 1916
im 1.Weltkrieg gefallenen Franz Marc)
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: *War Poetry Archive, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Lasker-Schüler, Else
Weltende
Es ist ein Weinen in der Welt,
Als ob der liebe Gott gestorben wär,
Und der bleierne Schatten, der niederfällt,
Lastet grabesschwer.
Komm, wir wollen uns näher verbergen …
Das Leben liegt in aller Herzen
Wie in Särgen.
Du, wir wollen uns tief küssen –
Es pocht eine Sehnsucht an die Welt,
An der wir sterben müssen.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
Weltende
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Lasker-Schüler, Else
George Grosz
Manchmal spielen bunte Tränen
In seinen äschernen Augen.
Aber immer begegnen ihm Totenwagen,
Die verscheuchen seine Libellen.
Er ist aberglaubig–
–Ward unter einem großen Stern geboren–
Seine Schrift regnet,
Seine Zeichnung: Trüber Buchstabe.
Wie lange im Fluß gelegen,
Blähen seine Menschen sich auf.
Mysteriöse Verlorene mit Quappenmmäulern
Und verfaulten Seelen.
Fünf träumende Totenfahrer
Sind seine silbernen Finger.
Aber nirgendwo ein Licht im verirrten Märchen
Und doch ist er ein Kind,
Der Held aus dem Lederstrumpf
Mit dem Indianerstamm auf Duzfuß.
Sonst haßt er alle Menschen,
Sie bringen ihm Unglück.
Aber Georg Grosz liebt sein Mißgeschick
Wie einen anhänglichen Feind.
Und seine Traurigkeit ist dionysisch,
Schwarzer Champagner seine Klage.
Er ist ein Meer mit verhängtem Mond,
Sein Gott ist nur scheintot.
Else Lasker-Schüler
(1869 – 1945)
George Grosz
aus: Die Kuppel. Paul Cassirer, Berlin 1920
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More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Expressionism, Expressionisme, FDM in Berlin, Lasker-Schüler, Else
Tussen zijn vijftiende en twintigste droomde Frans Kellendonk (1951-1990), naderhand uitgegroeid tot een van de belangrijkste schrijvers van zijn generatie, niet alleen van literaire roem, hij ambieerde ook een carrière als singer-songwriter. Hij schreef tientallen liedjes, zijn vriend Leonard de Vos maakte er de muziek bij.
Met de begeleidende brieven en fragmenten uit zijn bijdragen aan diverse schoolkranten van het Nijmeegse Dominicuscollege geven Kellendonks liedjes een authentiek beeld van het puberbestaan tijdens de jaren zestig. Het was de periode waarin Bob Dylan furore maakte, de Amerikaanse bemoeienis met Vietnam op wereldwijde protesten stuitte en de anti-autoritaire provobeweging de Hollandse huiskamers danig wist te choqueren.
Jong in de jaren zestig roept de sfeer op van bevlogen jongeren in tijden van sociale en culturele veranderingen.
Jaap Goedegebuure (1947), emeritus hoogleraar en literatuurcriticus, publiceerde in 2018 de positief ontvangen biografie van Frans Kellendonk. Eerder maakte hij met Oek de Jong een uitgave van Frans Kellendonks brieven, en bezorgde hij (met Rick Honings) een uitgebreide editie van Kellendonks Verzameld werk.
Jaap Goedegebuure
Jong in de jaren zestig
De muziek van Frans Kellendonk
Uitgever: Querido
Publicatiedatum: 02-04-2020
ISBN: 9789021421520
NUR: 320
156 pagina’s
Paperback
Prijs: € 15,00
# new books
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, - Book News, - Book Stories, Archive G-H, Archive K-L, AUDIO, CINEMA, RADIO & TV, Frans Kellendonk, Jaap Goedegebuure
A luminous new collection from Keetje Kuipers, All Its Charms is a fearless and transformative reckoning of identity.
By turns tender and raw, these poems chronicle Kuipers’s decision to become a single mother by choice, her marriage to the woman she first fell in love with more than a decade before giving birth to her daughter, and her family’s struggle to bring another child into their lives. All Its Charms is about much more than the reinvention of the American family—it’s about transformation, desire, and who we can become when we move past who we thought we would be.
Keetje Kuipers is the author of three books of poems: Beautiful in the Mouth, The Keys to the Jail, and, most recently, All Its Charms, which includes poems honored by publication in both The Pushcart Prize and Best American Poetry anthologies.
Her poetry and prose have appeared in Narrative, Virginia Quarterly Review, The New York Times Magazine, The Believer, and over a hundred other magazines. Her poems have also been featured as part of the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day series and read on NPR. Keetje has been a Stegner Fellow, a Bread Loaf fellow, and PEN Northwest’s Margery Davis Boyden Wilderness Writing Resident. She lives with her wife and children on an island in the Salish Sea, a short ferry ride away from Seattle where she is Editor of Poetry Northwest.
(. . .)
I climbed the red rocks robed in their red dust.
I put the earth—all its charms—within me,
into each waiting pocket. Lip and ear.
What will happen when my body can no longer
hold this fragrant salt, its hardened tears,
inside? Let mine into the dirt. The names
I’ve chosen for my children are already fast
across the sky like the ochre feathers that frame
the blackbird’s shrug.
(. . .)
Fragment of ‘Landscape with Sage and the Names of My Children’
All Its Charms
By: Keetje Kuipers
Language: English
Paperback: 112 pages
Publisher: BOA Editions Ltd.
Publication Date: April 23, 2019
ISBN-10: 1942683766
ISBN-13: 978-1942683766
Regular price $ 17.00
# new poetry
Keetje Kuipers:
All Its Charms
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: - Book News, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Kuipers, Keetje, MODERN POETRY
Maude.
A Ballad Of The Olden Time
Around the castle turrets fiercely moaned the autumn blast,
And within the old lords daughter seemed dying, dying fast;
While o’er her couch in frenzied grief the stricken father bent,
And in deep sobs and stifled moans his anguish wild found vent.
“Oh cheer thee up, my daughter dear, my Maude, he softly said,
As tremblingly he strove to raise that young and drooping head;
‘I’ll deck thee out in jewels rare in robes of silken sheen,
Till thou shalt be as rich and gay as any crowned queen.”
“Ah, never, never!” sighed the girl, and her pale cheek paler grew,
While marble brow and chill white hands were bathed in icy dew;
“Look in my face – there thou wilt read such hopes are folly all,
No garment shall I wear again, save shroud and funeral pall.”
“My Maude thou’rt wilful! Far away in lands beyond the sea
Are sunny climes, where winter ne’er doth wither flower or tree;
And there thou’lt journey with me, till I see thee smile once more,
And thy fair cheek wear the rose’s hue as in the days of yore.”
“Ah, no roses shall I gather beneath a summer sky,
Not for me such dreams, dear father, my end is drawing nigh;
One voyage is before me, ’tis no use to grieve or moan,
But that dark, fearful journey must I travel all alone.”
“My precious child! last of my race! why wilt thou grieve me so?
Why add by such sad words unto thy grey haired father’s woe?
Live – live, my pearl! my stricken dove! earth’s joys shall all be thine;
Whate’er thy wish or will through life, it also shall be mine.”
Fast coursed the diamond tear drops down that fair, though faded, cheek,
And she whispered, but so softly, one scarce could hear her speak:
“Ah! father, half those loving cares when summer bright was here
Would have kept thy daughter with thee for many a happy year.
“But, ah! thy heart was marble then, and to thy direst foe,
More stern, relentless anger thou couldst not, father, show.
What was my crime? The one I loved, not rich but nobly born,
Was loyal, true, on whom no man e’er looked with glance of scorn.
“He wooed me fairly, father dear, but thou did’st often swear
Thou’dst rather see me in my grave than bride to Hengist’s heir.
Reckless, despairing, he embarked upon the stormy main,
To seek an end to grief and care, nor sought he long in vain.
“Calm and untroubled sleeps he now beneath the salt sea brine,
And I rejoice to think how soon that sweet sleep shall be mine!”
No answer made the father but a low and grief-struck moan;
And silence reigned again throughout that chamber sad and lone.
Sudden the girl starts wildly, with bright and kindling eye,
Her cheek assumes a crimson tint like hue of sunset sky,
“Father! that voice, that rapid step, ah, me! they are well-known,
Hengist who comes from ocean’s deeps to claim me for his own!”
Say, does she rave? No. See yon form, with proud and gallant brow,
Bending above her, whisp’ring low, fond word and tender vow:
“Maude, my own love! no spectral form, no phantom’s at thy side,
But thy girlhood’s lover, now returned to claim thee as his bride.”
The story runs that love and youth o’er death the victory won,
And again did Maude, a happy wife, play ‘neath the summer sun,
While the old lord, grateful to the Power that Hengist’s life had spared,
Henceforth in all his children’s bliss, hopes, sorrows, fully shared.
Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
(1829 – 1879)
Maude.
A Ballad Of The Olden Time
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive K-L, Archive K-L, CLASSIC POETRY
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