Poésie en anglais

Un article de la Mémoire du Québec (2022).

• The goddess addresses her lover as follows:
  

Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?
As for me, the young woman,
who will plow my vulva?
Who will station the ox there?

The oxen pulling the plow refer to the king's phallus; the vulva represents the ground to be sown.
Ishtar's royal lover answers,

'I, Dumuzi the King,
'will plow your vulva.'
'At fever pitch of excitement,

'The goddess cries,
'Then plow my vulva,
'Man of my heart!'

Inanna spoke:
'What I tell you
Let the singer weave into song.
What I tell you,
Let it flow from ear to mouth,
Let it pass from old to young:

My vulva, the horn,
The Boat of Heaven,
Is full of eagerness like the young moon.
My untilled land lies fallow.

As for me, Inanna,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?

As for me, the young woman,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will station the ox there?
Who will plow my vulva?'

Dumuzi replied:
'Great Lady, the king will plow your vulva.
I, Dumuzi the King, will plow your vulva.'

Inanna:
'Then plow my vulva, man of my heart!
Plow my vulva!'

Diane Wolkstein, Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth: Her Stories and Hymns from Sumer


BRUJA'S QUOTES
J.R.R. Tolkien
'There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.'
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, plus connu sous la forme J. R. R. Tolkien, est un écrivain, poète, philologue, essayiste et professeur d'université britannique, né le 3 janvier 1892 à Bloemfontein et mort le 2 septembre 1973 à Bournemouth. Wikipédia

tags: inspirational, lord-of-the-rings, middle-earth, sam-gamgee, tolkien501 likes

Clementine von Radics
'I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we'd given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I'm hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it's still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it's the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.'
Clementine von Radics