Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10
......
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
......
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
......
(elegy)
Prologue
In a small New England town, in a Church cemetery
at edge of a family plot with room scarce to bury,
stand twin stones to Agnes M. 1887 – 1897,
and to May, who in chiseled 1901 birth year also entered Heaven.
Missing burial records for these two is a local mystery,
As to why memorials appeared many years later, we are not yet privy.
......
(epanalepsis)
We Dead are amassed in a vortex of Hate:
Enshrined underneath Towers of Light are we dead;
Collected from the Pentagon walls were we dead;
Scorched fields mark more sacrifices by we dead;
Joined by bomb targets in Israel are we dead;
Souls from West Bank reprisals merge with we dead;
Victims of terrorism and revenge are we dead;
......
(double inverted nonet)
see
the clouds
without form
all wander free
Heaven must be thus
looking over our world
waxing and waning at will
......
(elegy)
Prologue
In a small New England town, in a Church cemetery
at edge of a family plot with room scarce to bury,
stand twin stones to Agnes M. 1887 – 1897,
and to May, who in chiseled 1901 birth year also entered Heaven.
Missing burial records for these two is a local mystery,
As to why memorials appeared many years later, we are not yet privy.
......
Have you lost your way
Trodding across the fumes of frost?
Or it is fashion to arrive unannounced,
From across the foggy horizon.
But now that you have arrived,
Take refuge behind that lone palm tree.
And look on at the person,
Fluttering like a fish out of pond at the corner.
......
These are modern English translations of Uyghur poems by Michael R. Burch, an American translator, editor and publisher of Holocaust and Nakba poetry.
Perhat Tursun (1969-) is one of the foremost living Uyghur language poets, if he is still alive. Tursun has been described as a "self-professed Kafka character" and that comes through splendidly in poems of his like "Elegy." Unfortunately, Tursun has been "disappeared" into a despicable Chinese "reeducation" concentration camp where extreme psychological torture is the norm. According to a disturbing report he was later "hospitalized."
Elegy
by Perhat Tursun
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
"Your soul is the entire world."
— Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
......