THE POEM BOOK

OSWALD MBUYISENI MTSHALI, ÉDOUARD GLISSANT, & OCTAVIO PAZ
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OSWALD MBUYISENI MTSHALI
Inside My Zulu Hut

It is a hive
without any bees
to build the walls
with golden bricks of honey.
A cave cluttered
with a millstone,
calabashes of sour milk
claypots of foaming beer
sleeping grass mats
wooden head rests
tanned goat skins
tied with riempies
to wattle rafters
blackened by the smoke
of kneaded cow dung
burning under
the three-legged pot
on the earthen floor
to cook my porridge.

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TPB's notes: claypots of foaming beer -sounds paradisial

ÉDOUARD GLISSANT
Cities

On the wool of sound some object of silence one so immense.
The issue is love, its turning towards solicitous shop windows.
Who stops who gazes? Here thought arranges the display of rags, and charm lingers on and on.
There, giant cats scratch the earth, the steel of silence and faith with no object.

translated by Betsy Wing

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TPB's notes: ps: copious copyrights declaration, possibly by translator, from the net source.

OCTAVIO PAZ
Brotherhood

I am a man; little do I last,
and the night is enormous.
But I look up. The stars write.
Unknowing, I understand:
I too am written,
and at this very moment
someone spells me out.

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TPB's notes: n/a