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Articles tagged "Belief"

Philosophy

Little spider, greet the sun. Don't be down. Give thanks, dear toad, that you are here. The hairy crabs, like roses, all have thorns, and mollusks are reminiscences of women. Know how to be what you are: enigmas that have taken form. Leave responsibilities to the Norm, who will in turn send them on to Heaven. (Sing, cricket: the moon is lit. And, bear, go ahead and dance.) Translation of "Filosofia." Translation copyright 2008 by Gabriel Gudding. All rights reserved.

The Pig

Asbjørn Hall was admitted to an Oslo hospital on December 4th, 2003, for an intestinal operation, a rather unpleasant business no one would look forward to. But Asbjørn Hall was seventy-eight and had never been ill before, barring minor complaints such as colds, toothache, and the occasional hangover. For that reason he realized now this was no more than to be expected; that's not saying he saw this as some punishment for a long and godless life—no, Asbjørn...

A Juicer

So many saints that they obstruct the heavens. We have yet to buy a plastic Christ. Holy water which will be absorbed by the blotting paper of sin. Thoughts of unbelief watch us closely. Love converts. A reckless juicer squeezes shy testimony from us. Yes. Translation of "Sokowirówka." Copyright by Ewa Lipska. By arrangement with the auhor. Translation copyright 2007 Robin Davidson and Ewa Ewa Elżbieta Nowakowska. All rights reserved. Read...

The Chaldean Ruins

Ascetic he emerges from its belly to the grave. His days are not entered on the calendar and he does not gather the things that are scattered. Earthquakes do not shake him nor wink at death without him. Was he born before the earth or after her wails? A wind blew by and did not shake the tree. They said: It was no wind but his sighing. He is the unsettled Chaldean and it was no tree but the elongated roots of his village. Dried out he releases water into the fields then...

“Will nothing of my earthly fame endure?”

Will nothing of my earthly fame endure? Not even flowers, not even songs! What can my heart do? In vain we have sprung forth, we have come to be on earth. Let us enjoy ourselves, my friends, let us embrace here, as we walk the flowered earth. Let no one bring an end to the flowered earth, let no one bring an end to flowers and songs; they shall endure in the house of the Giver of Life. Earth is the place of the fleeting moment. Is it the same in the place where one...

Two Poems

The Oracles of the Virgin Music is the art which is most nigh to tears and memory.--Oscar Wilde Buried inside us were the sounds of the words our parents managed to utter in the moment of intercourse before they fell silent at the wonder of budding life. Buried inside us were the sounds of the songs we heard in the cradle before our mothers had forgotten the oracles of the Virgin. Buried inside us were the sounds of the grinding of...

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