Hornets' Nest

The Butterfly by Margot (uphill000)

 

 In this dirty old City

that knows no pity

there’s a little old lady I've met before.

She lives in our building, on the 10th floor

amidst many others

fathers and mothers, children and lovers,

freaks and creeps

but she always keeps herself up on a shelf

in self-protection , without defection

from that 10th floor.

 

She's modest and never asks for more

than a little affection,

a little Hello,

a little: How are you? I've missed you so!

She loves music and living

and the pleasure of giving

to the people around her

who always found her when they were in need.

she’s sweet - and  wise.

Of her beauty there’s nothing left

but her green eyes.

 

Sometimes though she's crying

afraid of dying.

She will stand by her window

Let the sun  dry her tears.

and all of a sudden gone are her fears.

She realizes she's still living

and can carry on giving

the abundant love she always possessed

She's blessed.

 

I have to admit

I haven't seen her for long

There is no sound, no music, no song

coming from her door on that 10th floor….

     Where did she go? It seems she’s not here.

Does she hide  – maybe died?

I am beginning to fear

where  could she be?

I must  go there and see, find out,

to stop my doubt and worry

I must hurry.

…….

 

I’ve just been up on the 10th floor

but did not find anything -

just her wide open door,

so I walked right in.

There was nothing in there

except an old table and her favorite chair.

 

Then, suddenly, I heard a sound.

and saw a butterfly flying around.

It flew to the window

and got caught in a curtain.

          I went to free it and make certain

 it was not hurt.

I picked it up gently and laid it on my hand

hoping that it would understand

I am a friend.

 

It lay there still,  looking up at me

and to my surprise I could see

it has green eyes

Just like those of the lady

 

I opened the window to hold my hand out

and the butterfly began to flutter about.

Then it started to fly

heading straight for the sky.

And as I watched it go I saw it do

the strangest thing:

It waved to me with just one wing.

Could it be

it’s SHE ?

 

        I cannot change the way I am,
        I never really try,
        God made me different and unique,
        I never ask him why.
       
        If I appear peculiar,
        There's nothing I can do,
        You must accept me as I am,
        As I've accepted you.
       
        God made a casting of each life,
        Then threw the old away,
        Each child is different from the rest,
        Unlike as night from day.
       
        So often we will criticize,
        The things that others do,
        But, do you know, they do not think,
        The same as me and you.
       
        So God in all his wisdom,
        Who knows us all by name,
        He didn't want us to be bored,    
        That's why we're not the same

Author unknown (provided by Evie_ItsMe)

 

 

THE VISIT You enter my room with your head down, as if you are afraid of what you will see. As your heart feels heavy and low, mine is rejoicing to see you once again. You have been my friend many years now, and have shared so much of your life with me as I have with you. Now it is almost my time to move down a different path. One that you will have to face alone, also, at a different time and place. You struggle to hide the tears and heart break as you speak with me. I try to asure you that all is ready and I am ready also, but you choose not to hear these words. My breathing is labored and I tire quickly and you prepare to leave as the time is almost up. I want to thank you for being my friend all this time and tell you how much I love you, for overlooking my faults and concentrating on my virtues. Rejoice in my crossing over , for me. My pain and suffering will have ended, When it is your time, I will be there waiting for you on the other side,to pick up our love and friendship in a far better place, where we will never have to wish each other good bye again, PSimpleton

	THE BULL Now I always watch the road carefully when I ride and this day was no exception, It was sunny and bright and all was right and I had not a care in the world. I had my Love on behind me and the exhast was singing a beautiful tune, The "deer alert horns"were singing their song Or at least that 's what they're suppose to do. In tones above my hearing they were suppose to be screaming "Go Hide" something wicked this way comes, But far down the road I see what looks to be a building And I think that this can't be. It's watching us to intently and moves every now and again with eyes that's all aglow and the steams of hell from his nose, But he remains rock steady, "Why he must be deef and dumb" But he is out to protect his steady, no matter the outcome. And as we slow to pass he charges, "He's coming straight at me!" I stand on the brakes, my wife does scream as the bull , goes thundering by and he's way to close to me. His horns miss the front wheel by six inches or less and I see his muscles bunching and straining, so he can make another pass, but he slips on the grass and busts his poor ass and with a twist of the throttle, WE'RE GONE! Now I'd like to say we were cool about this but the truth of the matter we wasn't Caust it took nearly thirty minutes to clean our pants up at the next rest-ta-raunt. PSimpleton

 

GECE GELEN TELGRAF

gece gelen telgraf

dört heceden ibaretti:

''VEFAT ETTi''

imza yok

bu dört hece bile çok

bakiyorum duvara:

duvarda bir yara--

duvarda bir resim--

vefat edenin,

elimle çizmiþim

saat bir

saat üç

saat beþ

polis düdükleri, saatlar...

yataðým bozulmamýþ.

çekmecemde kaatlar;

bazilari

o'nun el yazilari.

gece gelen telgraf

dört heceden ibaret...

þafak söküyor--

odam

geceden ibaret

avuçlarimda

ellerinin gölgesi dolaþan adam

demir parmakliklardan gördü son gündüzünü

mahpushane doktoru

örterek paltosuyla upuzun yatanin yüzünü

-Tamam!

dedi

bunu belki evvelki akþam dedi..

evvelki akþam ben..........

saticilar geciyor mahalleden

bakiyorum

gece gelen telgrafa

O mükemmel bir kafa

nükemmel bir yürek

yumruklariyla erkek

gözleriyle çocuktu

hudutsuz ve allahsiz bir baþti o

yoldaþti o.

düþmanlar kina yaksin

dostlar girsin saflara

sen gözyaþi göstermeden aðlayacaksin

gece gelen telgraflara...

NAZIM HiKMET RAN

Amatör çevirmen: Naut

TELEGRAPH

The telegraph that came tonight

was made of

four syllables only

''he passed away''

no signature.

four syllables are telling all

i am looking at the wall

a scar on it-

a picture of the deceased-

on the wall

which i ve drawn it by my hands

one o'clock

two o'clock

it's five o'clock

police patrol whistles

my bed neat..

not used

papers in my drawer

some of them are

his handwriting

the telegraph that came tonight

was made of four syllables

dawn is at the door

and my room is full of night

nothing more

the man whose hand's shadow

falling into my palm

saw his last daylight

through the bars

the doctor of the jailhouse said ''he is gone''

by covering his face by the dead's coat

he might have said this the day before yesterday

at that time i.....

salesmen passing by the street

i am looking at the telegraph that came tonight

he was a perfect head

outstanding heart

with the fists of a man

with the eyes of a kid

limitless and ateist dude he was

a comrade

let enemies throw parties

brothers get in arm

you will weep hiding teardrops

to the telegraphs coming at night

NAZIH HiKMET RAN

amateur Translator: Naut