Dissident Editions




POETRY

poems of the month

fish

vagabondage

measuring my face

ostracism

old clothes

modern iranian poems

my hero

face at the bottom of the world

perhaps (maybe)

the diogenes sequence

where to store furs

i am and am not:
      fragments of rumi

destiny and destination

the zen of no-enlightenment

the iraqi monologues

already backwards

a light in ruins

separate amputations

the sexy jihad

awaiting the barbarians

the smell of possibilities

ultimate leaves

rejoice in the dog

post-millennium maggot

the book of nothing

confession from belgrade

dispatches from the war against the world

albanian poems

french poems in honour of jean genet

the hells going on

the joy of suicide

book disease

foreground trouble

the transcendental hotel

cinema of the blind

lament of the earth mother

uranian poems

haikai by okami

haikai on the edge

black hole of your heart

jung's motel

leda and the swan

gloss on rilke's ninth duino elegy

jewels and shit:
poems by rimbaud

villon's dialogue with his heart

vasko popa: a shepherd of wolves ?

the rubáiyát of
omar khayyám

genrikh sapgir:
an ironic mystic

the love of pierre de ronsard

imagepoem

the rich man and the leper

disgusting

art, truth and bafflement

 

TRANSLATIONS

 

BETWEEN POETRY AND PROSE

the maxims of michel de montaigne

400
revolutionary maxims

nice men and
suicide of an alien

anti-fairy tales

the most terrible event in history

 

SHORT STORIES

godpieces

the three bears

three albanian tales

odorous underwear

a little creation story

 

ESSAYS & MEMOIRS

a curious and peculiar
kind of queer

the ivory palace

helen's tower

schopenhauer for muthafuckas

are doctors autistic ?

never a pygmy

against money

did franco die ?

'original sin' followed by
crippled consciousness

a gay man's guide to soft-willy sex

the holosensual alternative

tiger wine

the death of poetry

the absinthe drinker

with mrs dalloway in ukraine

love  and  hell

running on emptiness

a holocaust near you

happiness

londons of the mind &
dealing death to the caspian

genocide

a muezzin from the tower of darkness

kegan and kagan

a holy dog and a
dog-headed saint

an albanian ikon

being or television

satan in the groin

womb of half-fogged mirrors

tourism and terrorism

diogenes
the dog from sinope

shoplifting

this sorry scheme of things

the bektashi dervishes

combatting normality

fools for nothingness:
atheists & saints

vacuum of desire: a homo-erotic correspondence

a note on beards

translation and the oulipo

 

 

 

FACE
AT THE BOTTOM
OF THE WORLD

 

 

three poems by

 

 

HAGIWARA SAKUTARO
(1886-1942)


 

translated by

Graeme Wilson & Anthony Weir

 

 

DAWN

From pain of long disease
the face is spider-webbed.
Below the waist, the ebbed
flesh has contracted to
thin shadow-shapes, and these
shaped shadows peter out
in nothings, in grey dream...

Above the waist there sprout
things bushy, things that seem
like thin thickets of bamboo.
The rotted hands are thin
and every piece and part -
lips, knees and nails and heart,
are smashed and battered in.

The moon is up today.
The day-moon in the sky
with sickly feeble ray,
dim as an unlit candle.
And somewhere far away,
lifting its muzzle high
a great white dog gives tongue...

From desolation wrung
its desolation flows
along the empty road,
cry upon anguished cry.

 

 

 

 

DEATH OF AN ALCOHOLIC

From the dead body of the alcoholic
lying on his back - slack mouth, sharp nose -
around the region of the dead white stomach
something unimaginable flows.

Congealed with blood, translucent,
the bluish, bulbous heart;
maggots crawling and indecent,
intestines rotting green, impart
their ooze to the environment.
The ground is sticky, bright.

The grass is sharp as shattered glass
and everything is shining
with phosphorescent light.

Landscape of despair,
landscape with moon declining.

Ah, in such a lonely place
The pale murderer's flapping face
laughs like a shimmer in the grass.

 

 

 

 

FACE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WORLD

Face at the bottom of the world:
a sick, a lonely face -
one invalided out
of every inner place.
Yet slowly there uncurled,
green in the gloom
the grasses sprout.

And, as a rat's nest stirs
its million tangled hairs
one queasy quivering,
thinnest of winterers,
the bamboo shoot prepares
its green grope to the Spring.

Sad in the ailing earth,
tongue-tender with despair,
green moves through grief's grimace;
and, sick and lonely, there
in Stygian gloom and dearth,
at the bottom of the world: a face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

POSTSCRIPT:
TWO TRANSLATIONS FROM THE CHINESE

 

 

ANONYMOUS
202 BC

Dew on chives
how soon it dries
yet falls to gleam again
at sun's next rise.

But Man once gone, is gone.
When he dies,
he dies.

 

 

KUAN HAN-QING
13th century

With whom, behind green silk
screening their skins from shame,
does he 'make love', and, with drink,
play out his lust's short game ?

I've forgotten my bitter words
- even his bloody name!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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