ကြ်န္ေတာ္ၾကိုက္တ ဲ့  ၿပည္ပကဗ်ာဆရာ


Vasko Popa
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in new versions from the Serbian


Ko burma


You shut one eye

You peer into yourself

Peep into every corner

Make sure there are no nails no burglars

No cuckoos’ eggs

Then you shut the other eye as well

You crouch, then jump

Jump high, high, high

Right up to the top of yourself

Then your weight drags you down

You fall for days and days as deep as deep

Down to the bottom of your abyss

If you’re not smashed to bits

If you’re still in one piece and get up in one piece

You can start playing.


Along with the first false sun

We got a visit from Agim

The woodman from near Prishtina

He brought us two red apples

Wrapped in a scarf

And the news that he’d finally got a house.

At last you’ve a roof over your head, Agim

No, no roof

The wind tore it off

You’ve a door and windows then

No door and no windows either

The winter carried them away

You’ve four walls at least

I’ve not even got four walls

All I have is a house like I said

The rest will be easy


They scare me by saying

There’s a screw loose in my head

They scare me more by saying

They’ll bury me

In a box with the screws loose

They scare me but little do they realise

That my loose screws

Scare them

The happy crazy from our street

Boasts to me


An old cleaning-woman from back home

Heard I’d visited

Rastko’s Grave in Rock Creek

Cemetery in Washington

I make cakes she says

Every year on feast-days

And light candles

For my dead in the old country

And for the Osceola Indians

Since my neighbours told me

Their burying-ground lies

Underneath this whole block of houses

Now I’ll do the necessary

For that Serbian poet too

He’s got nobody here either


One hugs me

One looks at me with wolf-eyes

One takes off his hat

So I can see him better

Each one of them asks me

Do you know who I am

Unknown men and women

Take on the names

Of boys and girls buried in my memory

And I ask one of them

Tell me venerable sir

Is George Wol still alive

That’s me he answers

In a voice from the Otherworld

I stroke his cheek with my hand

And beg him with my eyes to tell me

If I am still alive too


Get out of my walled infinity

Out of the star-ring round my head

Out of my mouthful of sun

Get out of the laughable sea of my blood

Out of my flow, of my ebb

Get out of my beached silence

Get out I said

Get out

Out of the chasm of my life

Of the stark father-tree inside me

Get out How long must I cry get out

Get out of my bursting head

Get out

Just get out


They trap the she-wolf with steel jaws

Stretched from horizon to horizon

They take the golden mask from her muzzle

And tear the secret grass

From between her haunches

They bind her and set

Tracker and pointer dogs

To defile her

They hack her to pieces

And leave her

To the vultures

With the stump of her tongue the she-wolf catches

Living waters from the jaws of clouds

And puts herself together again


Open up little box

We’re kissing your bottom and lid

Your keyhole and key

The whole world has crammed inside you

And now it looks like

Nothing like itself

Serenity its own mother

Wouldn’t recognise it now

Rust will devour your key

Our world and us inside you

And you too in the end

We’re kissing all four of your sides

And all four of your corners

And all twenty-four of your nails

And everything you’ve got

Open up little box


Give me back my rags

My rags of pure dreaming

Of silk smiling

Of striped foreboding

Of my lacy cloth

My rags of spotted hope

Of shot desire

Of chequered looks

Of my face’s skin

Give me back my rags

Give me when I ask you nicely


The lame wolf walks the world

One paw treads the sky

The others pace the earth

He walks backwards

Erasing each pawprint before him

He walks half-blind

With terrible bloodshot eyes

Full of dead stars and living parasites

He walks with a millstone

Forced round his neck

An old tin can

Tied to his tail

He walks without resting

Out of one circle of dog-heads

Into another

He walks with the twelve-faced sun

On a tongue which lolls to the ground


A regular customer in a local bar

Waves his empty sleeve

Fulminates from his undisciplined beard

We’ve buried the gods

And now it’s the turn of the dummies

Who are playing at gods

The regular is hidden in tobacco clouds

Illuminated by his own words

Hewn from an oak trunk

He is as beautiful as a god

Dug up recently nearby


in memoriam Vasko Popa

by Anthony Weir

Apart from everyone

I listen to the crows

And admire the blood-red

Japanese Quince flowers in April

The long-tailed dancer

With Cyrillic teeth

Is laughing

While I practise howling

Which is poetry


The Rose Thieves

(တာရာမင္းေ၀ .ဘာသာၿပန္ထားေသာ ႏွင္းဆီခိုးသူမ်ား)

Someone be a rose tree

Some be the wind’s daughters

Some the rose thieves

The rose thieves creep up on the rose tree

One of them steals a rose

Hides it in his heart

The wind’s daughters appear

See the tree stripped of its beauty

And give chase to the rose thieves

Open up their breasts one by one

In some they find a heart

In some so help me none

They go on opening up their breasts

Until they uncover one heart

And in that heart the stolen rose.


တစ္ေယာက္က ႏွင္းဆီသစ္ပင္
တခ်ိဳ႕က ေလျပည္ရဲ႕သမီးေတာ္မ်ား
တခ်ိဳ႕ကေတာ့ ႏွင္းဆီသူခိုးေတြေပါ့။

ႏွင္းဆီသစ္ပင္ေပၚ တြားလ်ားတက္ၾက
တစ္ေယာက္က ႏွင္းဆီတစ္ပြင့္ကို ခိုးတယ္
ၿပီး … သူ႔ႏွလံုးသားနဲ႔ ကြယ္ထားလိုက္ေလရဲ႕။

ေလျပည္ရဲ႕သမီးေတာ္ေတြ ေရာက္လာတယ္
ႏွင္းဆီရဲ႕အလွတို႔ ကဲ့၀ွက္လုယူခံလိုက္ရတာေတြ႕ေတာ့
ခိုးသားေတြေနာက္ကို လိုက္တယ္။

တစ္ေယာက္ၿပီးတစ္ေယာက္ရဲ႕ ရင္ဘတ္ေတြကိုခြဲ
တခ်ိဳ႕ရဲ႕အထဲမွာေတာ့ ႏွလံုးသားကိုေတြ႕တယ္
တခ်ိဳ႕ရဲ႕အထဲမွာေတာ့ ဘာကိုမွမေတြ႕ဘူး။

အဲဒီလိုနဲ႔ ရင္ဘတ္ေတြကို ဖြင့္ဖြင့္ၾကည့္ရင္း
ေနာက္ဆံုးမွာ ႏွလံုးသားတစ္ခုကို သြားေတြ႕တယ္
အဲဒီႏွလံုးသားထဲမွာ … … …
အခိုးခံရတဲ့ ႏွင္းဆီပြင့္ … … …။

တာရာမင္းေ၀ (ဘာသာျပန္)


(a poem by Vasco Popa)

The nail…

One be a nail another the pincers

The others are workmen

The pincers take the nail by the head

With their teeth with their hands they grip him

And tug him tug

To get him out of the ceiling

Usually they only pull his head off

It is difficult to get a nail out of the ceiling.

Then the workmen say

The pincers are no good

They smash their jaws they break their arms

And throw them out of the window

After that someone else be the pincers

Someone else the nail

The others the workmen


ေနာက္ထပ္ Vasco  popa ရဲ့ကဗ်ာေတြ

ဖတ္ခ်င္ေသးတယ္ဆိုရင္ ဒီမွာ ဖတ္လို့ရပါတယ္။




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