Posts Tagged ‘translation’

Ways of Looking (At a Blackbird)

January 6, 2014

I’ve been to three minds
and twenty snowy mountains
as a tree with three

blackbirds moves in the
autumn wind whirled with small mimes.
A man and woman:

I am one. A man
and woman and a blackbird:
I am one. I know

what you want: beauty
of inflection and beauty
of cues, the blackbird

whistling “Teddy”
and the long icicles of
l’ombra del merlo.

It’s gone back and forth,
a vidrio barbaro
mood described in the

shade, the thin cause of
indecipherable birds.
Haddam, know-golden,

noble, imagine
the blackbird walking the walk,
understand accents,

women, clearer rhythms; I
know the blackbird is

involved. How do I
know? When the blackbird flew out
of sight he scored clubs

from a crew of green
pimps, the perforated edge
of a glass fear. The

float of time has been
modified. Fly, euphony!
The moving river

is looking at the
same blackbirds snowing, and the
thirteenth century

cried all afternoon
in Connecticut, evening
going among snow

as the blackbird sat
in snow shadow, cried in art
shadow of cedar.

[via Italian-Romanian-Swedish-Spanish-Slovak, Bing translator]

The Books’ “Free Translator” Retranslated

July 26, 2011

One can see the boy
and girl control when I know
the patient’s shape, the

patient’s movement—the
day two years on, the wind, the
mouth at risk, walking,

chewing gum. Like a
black dog in the snow of an
easy sleep, I can’t

believe my eyes, my
pen a new friend to record
the hole of Adam.

Symmetric mouth and
high-speed legs, Knee-Dummies brand,
it’s a lift-up just

to count the dollars
again. The dead numbers may
not be counted. Keep

the nose and go back
to easy sleep in the hole,
my new friend. I can’t

believe your eyes and
I can’t believe my pen. A
storm girl’s solar jot,

a Lula bag of
meteorology and
raccoon hats. Plants are

speaking. They speak plant,
speaking carefully to the
sewage system tree.

[via Latvian-Italian-Portuguese-Turkish, Bing translator]


May 18, 2011

From: The Illuminations


Nothing. A summer
dawn takes you back to the front
of the castle. Road,

camp, water; dead wood
not going to shade. Bright, warm,
and I wake up in

the look market of
noise and beautiful feathers.
First company, trail

commission, and the
chip is already full. The
flowers said I was

his name. I, white fir,
silver crown goddess, laugh a
waterfall you sail.

I picked based on the
format; he criticized the
climbing vibration

arm tap. Big city—
it avoided dome towers,
present under the

marble and beggars
on the dock. Experience
shows. I stick to fame

and his big body,
rowing the top edge of the
road. Supervision,

structure, rate little
in the morning, children. The
clock fell on the floor.

[original French via Japanese-Russian-German-Hindi, Google and Bing translators]


Shells made of copper
and silver—steel and silver
springs and fighting foam.

The carriage of good
will increase the screws for the
carriage of goods. Streams

of heath and huge back
streets, pillars of the forest
a battery, the

wharf of huge spinners.
Negative angle remains
a vortex of light.

[original French via Italian-German-Greek-Romanian, Bing translator]

Wallace Stevens

April 8, 2010

The Emperor of Ice Cream (Triptych)


Call the big cigar,
muscle a roll, call his cheese
in the kitchen and

whip concupiscent.
To wear the clothes, linger as
they used to, allow

children to spend a
month on wenches. So therefore,
yes, it can result.

The emperor is
taken from the three-glass sheet
on the embroidered

spread to meet her in
the face of the transaction
dresser. If the foot-

horny prominence
has to show how cold she is,
come speechless. Post the

beam to light the cool
emperor’s pit-lit candles’
quiet surface view.

[via Thai-Japanese-Slovenian-Swedish, Google and Bing translators]


Looking for a great
cigar, her cylinder cups
vote concupiscent.

Whip-muscular whey
takes advantage of such clothes
and flower children

as are issued to
the wenches of Wisconsin.
One empire includes

her horn-cold flare lamp.
Create a ray . . . The final
projection will take

a page from the glass
emperor who enjoys the
underside of ice.

[via Turkish-Dutch-Hebrew-Hungarian, Bing translator]


Ring a large cigar!
One reel of back muscles will
offer him mass whip

carrots and galley
cups. Set these dress wenches on
dawdle; they used to

let guys put flowers
in last month’s newspapers. Let
be work the final

contract. The only
imperator is not three
glass table buds where

he distributed
his face to cover romance.
Leave the horny feet

on the stupid screen
with the main beam. Only the
lamp is ice cold cream.

[via Finnish-Norwegian-Swedish-Danish-Dutch-Haitian Creole-Polish,
Bing translator]

Bashō [via Google and Bing translators]

January 28, 2010


vanishing soldier
ruins of morning glory
military eyes


frost white tears of ice
passionate perfume minutes
incense preciousness


lonely moon of the
gray-headed lapwing carving
a deserted tomb


pillow fleas . . . urine
of horses . . . Yokohama
prostitute trouble


octopus summer . . .
dream frogs leap in straw sandals
dive with bamboo socks


enter rock silence . . .
voice of the cicada tends
the forked eye of spring


go this road without
me . . . autumn disease journey
planting willow fields