RENDEZVOUS

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RENDEZVOUS*


Though it seems that we have grown distant,
I am readily able to reach out and touch you.

My feelings steadfast, my heart apparent,
Even that this verse fails to mention your name.


Albeit we are housed in poor mortal frame,
Some one in a future time will think of us.

However history conspires to hush our story,
Destiny speaks and reveals to world
The book in which all our days were already written.



*A original love poem adapted from a verse by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, and more popularly in the English-speaking world simply as Rumi. He was a 13th-century Persian poet.



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ALWAYS, After Pablo Neruda

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ALWAYS, After Pablo Neruda

Do not believe,

Do not suppose, if even for a moment,

That I care.

Forget about it!

I am not concerned about those other men,

The lovers who came before me.

Your friends, the guys who once had staked,

Had boasted title to the blood rush of your heart,

They mean nothing to me.

Come to me carrying an old boyfriend on your shoulders.

Show me that picture,

The one which has a hundred men sniffing your hair.

Conjure up a mother goddess image,

A thousand guys nestling between your breasts,

Or tell me you have had acolytes adoring your feet.

Flood me over as were your memories

A monsoon river torrent, when in mid-July it empties

The mountain-gulley slopes of Goa,

And speeds all great, red earth out into the Arabian Sea.

Roar into me with the tidal wave of all your mementos,

The debris of your keepsakes,

The twisted wreck of every precious gift,

Which once had been bestowed upon you

From the bleeding hearts of your now-drowned lovers.

Let me see the length and width, that terrible demolition,

How long the debris stretch as all your memories hit the beach,

How deep and far its tear inland, up, over the coastline!

All humanity succumbs to the timeless motion of the surf.

Yet here I am.

I wait, I am waiting for you.

No matter what, who you bring along.

We are alone, we shall always be alone,

We shall always be you and I.

And here -- here is the time when,

The place where, our love begins anew.

Our affection reaches beyond the stint of ordinary dimension,

It has settled in for the term we call immortality.

 

CATULLUS POEM 5, An Original Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem

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CATULLUS POEM 5,
An Original Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem


I am here to repeat ancient wisdom:

What do we care what the joyless say? 
They should get lost, all of them!

Sun may set then rise again.

Yet once our tiny, brief light is pinched out,
We have night, an everlasting night,
Nevermore our life under bright blue heaven,

So let’s kiss, and let’s kiss again.
Let’s kiss a thousand times, and, then,
Let’s do it all over again, those kisses.

 

How many?  How many?  How many?
How many, you say?

Let’s not number our kisses.
There are people with evil eyes,
Workers of black magic,
They would use their power to hurt us.

No one should know how many.

NEW-YORK-CITY SAD SONG

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NEW-YORK-CITY SAD SONG

 
I am in New York City, but New York City,
It does not belong to me. You understand?
I am in New York City, but New York City is not in me.
What do I mean? Listen, I am from Chicago, Illinois.
Been in New York City for thirty-five years.
I am a New Yorker! You must understand!

Nope, nope, I probably confuse you.

What happens here? I have some examples.
Take the Second Avenue Subway. It doesn't exist!
City continues the project as long as I remember.
Seventh Avenue, midtown calls it, Fashion Avenue;
Yet garment making and design
Have they a role in today's American trade?

And the neighborhoods, they all look the same.
Look down the blocks. What do you see?
Corporate interests and franchise,
Dunkin' Donuts and big-time banks,
And, on almost every other corner,
Drug-store chains hawking their wares,
That's the story, the moms-and-pops, those stores,
Those stores are gone.

I notice more begging,
People seeking handouts more today than I ever recall.
The murder rate spikes. The poor kill the poor;
Children shoot other children.

                              
And the City's once renowned middle class forced to flee,
I see a Great Migration,
A town left to ladies with big, diamond engagement rings,
And babies pushed in fancy perambulators.

By the way New York City's mayor,
He is the richest man in the state.

And you, yes, you, too, 
You are not around much anymore.
How seldom I see you during the course of a year!
I am lonely without you.
I miss your not being home with me.
Nowadays, you go abroad
And, when you return, we go for dinner.
I only see you once and a while and then for a short time.

Ever notice all the lottery tickets which losers leave
On counter tops, and discard to the floor?
Seems many people hope to change their luck.

You follow? You understand what I mean?

I am in New York City, but New York City is not in me. 
 
*I copied out these sentiments years ago. Richard Wright first recorded them from a street corner conversation in the late 1930s when he had worked for the Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration. He later published them in 12 Million Black Voices. I took Wright's original street transcription and changed its tone and slant, refocused the scene. Ultimately, I turned it into a personal love poem, a poetic adaptation of sentiments from a WPA document.

CATULLUS POEM 58, An Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem

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CATULLUS POEM 58,
An Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem
 


Johnny! It’s Lesbia*, our Lesbia,
The Lesbia, that girl Stanley loved, 
Loved more than self and all he calls his own,
Now at the Great Hall, Chicago, Union Station,
Up and down the polished marble floors,
She goes high-heeled, black boots,
Sports a short skirt, and an open blouse.
Corn, she husks corn,
For every last one of them,
For any spoiled son of Lincoln with a dollar in his pocket.
 
*Lesbia was the name of Catullus’ lover, the woman to whom he addressed his poetry. Her real name was probably Clodia. He did not mean her name to designate any kind of sexual sexual preference.

Carmen 58 (in Latin by CATULLUS)
 
Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa.
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
nunc in quadriviis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.