“Vision Test” by Kyung-Nyun Richards

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Cross-Cultural Communications, NY

 

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VISION TEST by Kyung-Nyun Kim Richards

Cover art by Gianpiero Actis

Cover design by Li Yao 

“Kyung-Nyun Richards‘ poetry is powered by her integrity, her honesty and her wisdom, all of which exemplify her strengths and her delicacy. One senses a real experience of her knowledge of life’s ‘dismays and rainbows,’ to quote Dylan Thomas.’’ —Peter Thabit Jones, Poet, dramatist, editor & publisher of The Seventh Quarry “If you’re the type of reader who wonders whether it is better to be reincarnated as a tree rather than as a bloom, thenVision Test by Kyung-Nyun Kim Richards is the book for you. . . . Like William Blake’s work, this book fuses the Western and Eastern sensitivities.’’ —Hal Sirowitz, Former Poet Laureate of Queens, New York “In her Vision Test, Kyung-Nyun Kim Richards has captured many aspects of life, as trivial as a report card or a vision test, as common as a tree or a clam.” —Hong Ai Bai, Co-Author, A Break in Passing Clouds: Improvisations of Chinese Poems    Kyung-Nyun Kim Richards . . . unique sensibility brings forth the world of her ordinary experiences in deep and generous lyrical language. —Kwon Young-Min, Critic & Prof. of Korean Literature 128pp $15.00 paper/ISBN 978-0-89304-220-2 Publication date: April 30, 2016 Shipping: $5.00 U.S./$10.00 Foreign; add $.50/$5.00 each additional copy. NYS residents 8 5/8% sales tax.

 

“The Dark House of Hurt” artwork by Adel Gorgy, USA. “Crosses and gravestones break my view” poem by Peter Thabit Jones, UK

 

-Credit : Cross-Cultural Communications Art & Poetry Series Broadsides # 78

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The Dark House of Hurt
Copyright © Adel Gorgy 2015 Photograph  – http://www.adelgorgy.com/

 

CROSSES AND GRAVESTONES BREAK MY VIEW

 

Crosses and gravestones break my view.

To the left, I see you, bending

To arrange a jar of flowers;

The winter sky dulls your presence:

Charcoal figure, Van Gogh peasant.

Now kneeling, you recall a prayer.

 

My lack of Welsh locks out the sense;

But the grammar of sobs I know.

No priest, no poet, no actor

Could vinegar my wound like you.

You stand and gather up your things;

Then blackly walk the narrow path.

 

Your grief is deep – and so is mine;

Yet your strange prayer suggests that faith

Does visit your dark house of hurt.

I stare down at my child son’s grave;

I say no words to cross or stone,

As my clenched hands hold crumbs of dirt.

 

 

Published in VISITORS by Peter Thabit Jones, Seren Books (1986)

http://www.peterthabitjones.com/


Continue reading ““The Dark House of Hurt” artwork by Adel Gorgy, USA. “Crosses and gravestones break my view” poem by Peter Thabit Jones, UK”

“Il Gobbetto nel Parco” poesia di Dylan Thomas

Il gobbetto nel parco

Un signore solitario

Sorretto tra alberi e acqua

Dall’apertura del lucchetto del giardino

Che lascia entrare l’acqua e gli alberi

Fino alla cupa campana della domenica quando è buio

Mangiava pane da un giornale

Beveva acqua da una tazza legata ad una catena

Che i bambini riempivano di ghiaia

Nella vasca della fontana dove facevo veleggiare la mia barca

Dormiva di notte in un canile

Ma mai nessuno lo incatenava.

Arrivava presto come gli uccelli del parco

Come l’acqua era sedentario

E Signore chiamavano Ehi Signore

I ragazzi di città che marinavano la scuola

Correndo quando li aveva uditi chiaramente

Fuori dalla portata di voce

Oltre il laghetto e i finti scogli

Ridendo quando scuoteva il giornale

Ingobbiti per derisione

Attraverso lo zoo rumoroso del boschetto di salici

Sfuggendo al guardiano del parco

Munito del bastone con cui raccoglieva le foglie.

E il buon cane solitario

Sonnecchiava da solo tra bambinaie e cigni

Mentre i ragazzi tra i salici

Lasciavano uscire tigri dai loro occhi

Per ruggire sulle pietre rocciose

Ed i boschetti erano blu di marinai

Costruiva per tutto il giorno fino all’ora della campana

Una figura perfetta di donna

Diritta come un giovane olmo

Diritta e alta dalle sue ossa contorte

Una donna che potesse restare la notte

Dopo i lucchetti e le catene.

Tutta la notte nel parco disfatto

Dopo che le inferriate e i cespugli

Gli uccelli l’erba gli alberi e il lago

E i ragazzi turbolenti innocenti come fragole

Avevano inseguito il gobbetto fino al suo canile nel buio.

(Translated by Lidia Chiarelli)