17. “We Were Best Friends For 40 Years”. Rod Dedicates An Irish Blessing To Markie

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Rod about an Irish Blessing, ‘May the road rise to meet you’.

Text of the poem in Irish/Gaelic:

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat 
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl 
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh 
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna 
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís, 
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.

The Daltai Discussion Boards Archive

Bitesize Irish Reading

Text of the poem in English:

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

World Prayers Archive

Rod’s version for his friend Mark: 

Markie,

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your self,

And, until we meet again,

May your god hold you in their arms

And you feel our love for you.

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16. Sitting With Your Emotions: "Each Has Been Sent as a Guide From Beyond" (with Nicole)

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Nicole about a Persian poem called ‘The Guest House’ by Rumi.

Rumi: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumi

Text of The Guest House by Jalaluddin Rumi:

هست مهمانخانه این تن ای جوان

هر صباحی ضیف نو آید دوان

هین مگو کین ماند اندر گردنم

که همکنون بازپرد در عدم

هرچه آید از جهان غیب پوش

در دلت ضیف است او را دار خوش

Translation of The Guest House:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Translated by Coleman Barks

About the poem:

Rumi The Guest House in Farsi:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fb7RRpTlL4

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumi

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15. "Say The Difficult Thing, Get The Monsters Out On The Page, & Explore Them" - Albanian Poet Amina Meshnuni

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Amina Meshnuni about her own poem ‘Our Children’ written in Albanian and also about a poem by another Albanian poet, Mojkom Zeqo, called ‘The Mask of God’

Amina Meshnuni

Text of Amina Meshnuni’s poem:

Fëmijët

Në cilin varr masiv do të hidhen toksinat tona 

Dikur menduam se mashtruam fatin, 

Embrione të abortuara, në qeska të vogla

I hodhëm në gojën e bishës, 

Le të hajë pjesë tonat qe të mos na vrasë ne 

Që ne, të jetojmë dhe pak, sado pak

Kemi nevojë të rikrijojmë bukurinë që shkatërruam vetë 

Kemi nevojë të rilindim femijët e palindur 

Femijët e vrarë, fëmijët e rrënojave, femijët e dhomave bosh, 

Fëmijët që i hodhën kazaneve të ologarkëve, demonëve, dhjetra zotave, vrasësve 

Fëmijët që i hodhëm

Ne që të qeshurat tona shoshitëm si mbeturina dhe i kompresuam në lotë komercial 

Kemi nevojë të rilindim fëmijë të zemëruar sa ne do na vrasin 

dhe botën do rindërtojnë me sytë nga ku buron zjarrmia e luftës, 

në kupolë të paqes, me duart e tyre pa jod e pa gjak, 

me oshëtima të përflakta në vaj rikthimi 

Më mirë kështu, më mirë të jemi ne kurbani i një jete të re 

Po për dreq, edhe mitrat tona i paskemi hedhur në gojën e bishës

Londër 2023

Translation of the poem: 

Our Children 

In which mass grave will our toxins be thrown

Once we thought we cheated fate, 

Aborted embryos, in small bags 

We threw them into the beast’s mouth, 

“Let it eat parts of us, so it won’t kill us, 

so we can live a little longer, even if it’s just for a bit longer” - we used to say,

We need to recreate the beauty we ourselves destroyed

We need to rebirth the unborn children 

The murdered children, the offspring of the ruins,

 the children of hollow rooms,

The children we threw into the cauldrons of oligarchs, demons, dozens of gods, murderers 

The children we threw away, 

We who sifted our laughter like waste and compressed it into commercial tears

We need to rebirth children so enraged they will kill us and rebuild the world with eyes where with the fever of war springs, in a dome of peace, with their hands unsullied by iodine and blood, with burning roars in the cry of return

It is better this way, we better be the sacrifice for a new life, 

But alas, we’ve even thrown our wombs into the mouth of the beast

London 2023

Amina’s own translation

Text of Mojkom Zeqo’s  ‘The Mask of God’

Mojkom Zeqo

Maska e Zotit 

Metropole të mëdha! Takikardi stuhie

Mbi labirinte rrugësh me ankthin e kohës. 

Semaforët – perëndi budiste

Shkëlqejnë nga fosforeshenca e jogës. 

Rrëmuja e bursës lëviz me vërtik, 

Kriza surreale ngrin si në bronz

Robotët e telefonave automatikë

I gëlltisin monedhat, po s’i tresin dot. 

I sfilitur në pritje të mijevjeçarit të ri 

Planetin futurologjik e sodis 

Me polipët e flokëve të mi 

Thith muzgjet e amshuara të Babilonisë!

Horizonti I pestë, apokaliptik, 

Zhurmëron me lemeri mes heshtjes. 

Në tejqyrën që zbret nga një yll

I shoh përbindëshat brenda vetes. 

Me ngulm kërkoj zjarr në acaret polare

E gjej Hiroshimën e pikës së lotit

Nën miniera vuan populli i djajve

Për floririn e maskës së Zotit! 

Washington D.C. 1997 

Translation of Mojkom Zeqo’s poem

Mojkom Zeqo

God’s Mask

Great metropolises! 

Tachycardia of the storm 

Above the labyrinth of streets with the anxiety of time. 

Traffic lights – Buddhist gods 

Shine with the phosphorescence of yoga.

The bustle of the stock exchange moves with a whirl, 

The surreal crisis freezes as if in bronze 

The robots of the automatic telephones 

Swallow the coins, but can't digest them.

Exhausted in the wait for the new millennium 

I gaze at the futurological planet 

With the polyps of my hair 

I inhale the eternal dusks of Babylon!

The fifth horizon, apocalyptic, 

Roars with terror amidst the silence. 

In the telescope descending from a star 

I see the monsters within myself.

I relentlessly seek fire in the polar frosts 

And find Hiroshima in the tear's drop 

Beneath mines, the devil’s people suffer 

For the gold of God's mask!

Translated by Amina Meshnuni

About the poet Mojkon Zeqo:

https://www.harvardreview.org/contributor/moikom-zeqo/

https://www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poets/poet/102-30097_Zeqo

https://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/author/moikom-zeqo

https://sq.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moikom_Zeqo

https://www.harvardreview.org/contributor/moikom-zeqo/

About the poet Amina Meshnuni:

https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Sy_që_nuk_vdesin.html?id=QaBBswEACAAJ&redir_esc=y

https://www.camdennewjournal.co.uk/article/dear-suella-try-living-for-a-week-in-rwandan-centre

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.579662492185748&type=3&comment_id=579681728850491&paipv=0&eav=AfbbmhY-T-fQJwzCXfQD1l2JcE1iTxwwdpNMJMp9e1YTLHggdZ9IpjSlXnpXblf2kNg&_rdr

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14. "Nostalgic, Abstract & Inspiring". Chen Du Reads 'At Home' by Chinese Deaf Poet, Zuo You

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Chen Du about ‘At Home’ by a modern Chinese poet, Zuo You

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Simon_Armitage_in_2009.jpg

Text of the poem:

《家中》

左右 （杜琛 陈锡生译）

日历掩上断了角的柴门。新年将近

年兽打着嗤嗤的呼噜声

外婆的脸上露出油桐的笑容，和着煮茶声

落下一地灰烬，落下

一首大于雪的诗。它开出妖艳的花瓣

冬天的激情也在肆意燃烧

这睡眼惺忪的凌晨！大雪已经侵尽故乡最后的疆域

厨门刚刚虚开。雀鸟闻声，与阡陌乡野渐靠渐拢

雪在午后，越下越响

炉火越烧越旺。炊烟扫开一条白茫茫的天路……

这些愈走愈新的路啊

此时，此刻，紧紧贴着大地幸福的颤动

Translation of the poem

The calendar has gently closed the broken-cornered wooden gate
With the approaching Chinese New Year
The man-eating monster is snoring with a whistle

A smile like a tung tree blooms on Grandma’s face
In harmony with the sound of brewing tea
She has dropped ashes all over the ground, dropped
A poem more magnificent than the snowfall
With enchanting blossoming petals

Winter’s passion is also wildly burning
On this bleary-eyed morning
The blizzard has occupied my hometown’s last territory

The kitchen door has just been set ajar     at the sound
Finches approach over the crisscrossing paths of the countryside
Mid-afternoon snow is falling louder and louder
And the stove fire burns hotter and hotter
With smoke sweeping out a whitish trail in the firmament…

Oh the paths that are newer the more they are trodden
Are trembling with joy while clinging to the earth
At this very moment

Translated by  Xisheng Chen and Chen Du

https://paper-republic.org/pubs/read/at-home/

About the poet:

https://paper-republic.org/pers/zuo-you/

https://u.osu.edu/mclc/bibliographies/lit/translations-aut/y-z/#Z

Bio of the poet: Zuo (family name) You (given name)

Zuo You is a handicapped poet based in Xi’an, China. He has published nineteen books including six full-length poetry collections in China, e.g., Kismet and Subway. His poems have been translated into various languages and appeared in some major literary magazines in North America, Canada, the UK, Japan, Korea and elsewhere, such as The Paris Review, The Malahat Review, and Modern Poetry in Translation. In China, he is also the winner of several major literary awards, such as The Fourth Liu Qing Literary Award. Suffering from hearing impairment, he speaks only a few simple words. He has been honored “Good Person” by Shaanxi Provincial Government several times and has taught poetry writing and Chinese to 100,000+ students. A set of poems by him titled “Deaf Person” which is translated by Chen Du and Xisheng Chen was shortlisted by Ugly Duckling Presse in its 2021 First Translation selection.

About the Translators:

Bios of the translators: Chen (given name) Du (family name) and Xisheng (given name) Chen (family name)

Chen Du is a voting member of the American Translators Association and an expert member of the Translators Association of China with a Master’s Degree in Biophysics from Roswell Park Cancer Institute, SUNY at Buffalo and a Master’s Degree in Radio Physics from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. In the United States and a few other Western countries, she has published 150+ pieces of English translations, poems, and essays in more than fifty literary journals. A set of five poems from Yan An’s poetry collection Rock Arrangement which was co-translated by her and Xisheng Chen won the 2021 Zach Doss Friends in Letters Memorial Fellowship. Yan An’s poetry book, A Naturalist’s Manor, translated by her and Xisheng Chen was published by Chax Press and shortlisted (one of four titles) for the 2022 Lucien Stryk Asian Translation Prize, administered by the American Literary Translators Association. Contact her at of_sea@hotmail.com.

Xisheng Chen, a Chinese American, is an ESL grammarian, lexicologist, linguist, translator and educator. His educational background includes: top scorer in the English subject in the National College Entrance Examination of Jiangsu Province, a BA and an MA from Fudan University, Shanghai, China (exempted from the National Graduate School Entrance Examination owing to excellent BA test scores), and a Mandarin Healthcare Interpreter Certificate from the City College of San Francisco, CA, USA. His working history includes: translator for Shanghai TV Station, Evening English News, lecturer at Jiangnan University, Wuxi, China, adjunct professor at the Departments of English and Social Sciences of Trine University (formerly Tri-State University), Angola, Indiana, notary public, and contract high-tech translator for Futurewei Technologies, Inc. in Santa Clara, California, USA. As a translator for over three decades, he has published many translations in various fields in newspapers and journals in China and abroad.

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13. "The Beautiful, Magical, Fantastic Power Of This Poem Will Carry You." - Emma

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Emma about ‘Lord Ullin’s Daughter’ by Thomas Campbell (1777 – 1844)

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poet/thomas-campbell/

Text of the poem:

A Chieftan to the Highlands bound,
Cries, ‘Boatman, do not tarry;
And I’ll give thee a silver pound
To row us o’er the ferry.’

‘Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?’
‘Oh! I’m the chief of Ulva’s isle,
And this Lord Ullin’s daughter.

‘And fast before her father’s men
Three days we’ve fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

‘His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?’

Outspoke the hardy Highland wight:
‘I’ll go, my chief – I’m ready:
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady.

‘And by my word, the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry:
So, though the waves are raging white,
I’ll row you o’er the ferry.’

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men-
Their trampling sounded nearer.

‘Oh! Haste thee, haste!’ the lady cries,
‘Though tempests round us gather;
I’ll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.’

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her-
When oh! Too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o’er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;
Lord Ullin reach’d that fatal shore-
His wrath was chang’d to wailing.

For sore dismay’d, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover;
One lovely hand she stretch’d for aid,
And one was round her lover.

‘Come back! Come back!’ he cried in grief,
‘Across this stormy water;
And I’ll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!- oh, my daughter!’

‘Twas vain: the loud waves lash’d the shore,
Return or aid preventing;
The waters wild went o’er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

About the poet:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Campbell_(poet)

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poet/thomas-campbell/

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12. “My Mother Taught Us Love”. Teaching Children Emotional Literacy Through Poetry (with Tom)

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to (our second) Tom about, ‘Mother any distance’ by Simon Armitage.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Simon_Armitage_in_2009.jpg

Text of the poem:

Mother, any distance greater than a single span by Simon Armitage

Mother, any distance greater than a single span
requires a second pair of hands.
You come to help me measure windows, pelmets, doors,
the acres of the walls, the prairies of the floors.

You at the zero-end, me with the spool of tape, recording
length, reporting metres, centimetres back to base, then leaving
up the stairs, the line still feeding out, unreeling
years between us. Anchor. Kite.

I space-walk through the empty bedrooms, climb
the ladder to the loft, to breaking point, where something
has to give;
two floors below your fingertips still pinch
the last one-hundredth of an inch...I reach
towards a hatch that opens on an endless sky
to fall or fly.

Source

About the poet:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Armitage

https://www.simonarmitage.com

11. The Brutality Of War: "This Is The Dark Truth About Human Nature!" - Richard

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Richard about an extract from book 22 of the Iliad by Homer

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:The_Iliad_in_art#/media/File:Peter_Paul_Rubens_-_Achilles_slays_Hector.jpg

Text of the poem extract in Homeric Greek:

τὸν δ᾽ ὀλιγοδρανέων προσέφη κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ:

‘λίσσομ᾽ ὑπὲρ ψυχῆς καὶ γούνων σῶν τε τοκήων

μή με ἔα παρὰ νηυσὶ κύνας καταδάψαι Ἀχαιῶν,

ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν χαλκόν τε ἅλις χρυσόν τε δέδεξο

δῶρα τά τοι δώσουσι πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ,

σῶμα δὲ οἴκαδ᾽ ἐμὸν δόμεναι πάλιν, ὄφρα πυρός με

Τρῶες καὶ Τρώων ἄλοχοι λελάχωσι θανόντα.

’

τὸν δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ὑπόδρα ἰδὼν προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεὺς:

μή με κύον γούνων γουνάζεο μὴ δὲ τοκήων:

αἲ γάρ πως αὐτόν με μένος καὶ θυμὸς ἀνήη

ὤμ᾽ ἀποταμνόμενον κρέα ἔδμεναι, οἷα ἔοργας,

ὡς οὐκ ἔσθ᾽ ὃς σῆς γε κύνας κεφαλῆς ἀπαλάλκοι,

οὐδ᾽ εἴ κεν δεκάκις τε καὶ εἰκοσινήριτ᾽ ἄποινα

στήσωσ᾽ ἐνθάδ᾽ ἄγοντες, ὑπόσχωνται δὲ καὶ ἄλλα,

οὐδ᾽ εἴ κέν σ᾽ αὐτὸν χρυσῷ ἐρύσασθαι ἀνώγοι

Δαρδανίδης Πρίαμος: οὐδ᾽ ὧς σέ γε πότνια μήτηρ

ἐνθεμένη λεχέεσσι γοήσεται ὃν τέκεν αὐτή,

ἀλλὰ κύνες τε καὶ οἰωνοὶ κατὰ πάντα δάσονται.

Translation of the poem extract:

Strength all spent, spake Hector, he of the gleaming helm.

“I implore you by thy life and thy knees and thy parents, suffer me not to be devoured of dogs by the ships of the Achaeans. 

Nay, take thou my store of bronze and gold, gifts that my father and royal mother shall give thee, but my body return to my home, that the Trojans and the wives of Trojans may give me in death my due meed of fire.” 

But with an angry stare from beneath his brows spake Achilles, swift of foot.

“Implore me not, dog, speak not of knees or parents. My wrath and fury bid me carve thy flesh and myself eat it raw, because of what thou hast wrought, as surely as there lives no man that shall ward off the dogs from thy head.

About the poet:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homer

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iliad

10. “Zhuangzi Gave Me Strength To Deal With All My Traumas." The Poet Of Transcendence with Vivienne Lo

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Vivienne Lo about 2 Daoist poems: Chapter 8 of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and Zhangzi's (Chuang-Tzu's) Butterfly Dream Parable.

The Tao Te Ching

Laozi (Lao Tzu) riding a water buffalo

Laozi - UnknownThis image was copied from bg.wikipedia. Laozi, Public Domain

Text of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching Chapter 8:

第八章

上善若水。水善利萬物而不爭，處眾人之所感，故几于道。

居善地，心善淵，與善仁，言善信，政善治，事善能，動善時。

天唯不爭，故無尤。

Translation of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching Chapter 8:

1. The highest good is like water.

2. Water gives life to the ten thousand things and does not strive.

3. It flows in places men reject and so is like the Tao.

4. In dwelling, be close to the land.

5. In meditation, go deep in the heart.

6. In dealing with others, be gentle and kind.

7. In speech, be true.

8. In ruling, be just.

9. In business, be competent.

10. In action, watch the timing.

11. No fight: No blame.

The Butterfly Dream Parable

Dschuang-Dsi-Schmetterlingstraum-Zhuangzi-Butterfly-Dream

Lu Zhi - Upload of December 2007: http://www.asianart.com/exhibitions/taoism/butterfly.html Upload of April 2012: Not given

Text of The Butterfly Dream Parable:

昔者莊周夢為胡蝶，栩栩然胡蝶也，自喻適志與。

不知周也。

俄然覺，則蘧蘧然周也。不知周之夢為胡蝶與，胡蝶之夢為周與。

周與胡蝶，則必有分矣。

此之謂物化。

Translation of The Butterfly Dream Parable:

Once upon a time, I, Zhuangzi, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhuangzi. Soon I awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things.

https://www.learnreligions.com/butterflies-great-sages-and-valid-cognition-3182587

About the poems:

https://www.learnreligions.com/butterflies-great-sages-and-valid-cognition-3182587

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhuangzi_(book)

https://www.wussu.com/laotzu/laotzu08.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tao_Te_Ching

About the reader: Vivienne Lo

University College London

Author

9. "I Have My Wife's Heart With Me All The Time". The Power Of True Love with Martyn

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Martyn about [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e.e. cummings (1894–1962).

The poem is read twice with a musical underscore on the second reading. You can find the text of the poem below.

They discuss:

• The portability of love e.e. cummings conveys in the poem 

• Otherness due to being an immigrant, or minority in a country - an experience Martyn shares with his wife.

• Being rooted in a place through one’s love & relationship.

• Assimilation & acculturation and one’s sense of self living in a foreign country.

• Cummings’s experience in WW1

Let us know what you think of the episodes by replying to our emails or in the comments or our DMs on Instagram @elixirpoetry.podcast

Screenshot from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jutVovQFqvI

Text of the poem:

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

“[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]” Copyright 1952, © 1980, 1991 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust, from Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings, edited by George J. Firmage. Used by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation.

Source: Complete Poems: 1904-1962 (Liveright Publishing Corporation, 1991)

About the poet:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/49493/i-carry-your-heart-with-mei-carry-it-in

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._E._Cummings

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jutVovQFqvI e.e. cummings documentary

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jutVovQFqvI the poet reading his own work

8. Sharp Edges: "How I Learnt That My Body Is My Best Friend" - Tom

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Tom, our producer, about one of his own poems, ‘Sharp Edges’. The poem is read twice with a musical underscore on the second reading. You can find the text of the poem below.

They discuss:

- Seamus Heaney
- Tom's cycling accident and lucky escape
- How and why he started writing poetry after the accident
- How time slows down in a moment of survival
- Applying poetry writing to songwriting
- The importance of allowing your brain to wander
- Viewing the body and the mind as separate entities

Let us know what you think of the episodes by replying to our emails or in the comments or our DMs on Instagram @elixirpoetry.podcast

Tom Platts taken by Fin Nichols

Text of the poem:

Sharp Edges

The whirling vortex of late nights
that are not planned but still arise.
I fall into one day and find myself sharp.
The next day I have a sharp fall.

My alarm doesn't mean to punish me.
It just follows orders. My orders.
Submerged below full consciousness
I robotically, ironically
Awake for a doctors’ appointment.

Time wafts by, beyond when I should leave
On my road bike. It'll be a push and a breeze
I think, as I peddle with weary power
Down the beaten track, a tickling pebble shower.

A lean and a turn and here we go,
Over the brow, dripping down towards the Styx.

To eternally baffle, in my edgy rush,
I speed for show, lifting my possessed body
Off the saddle and low... outstandingly misjudged:
Slip, wobble. I'm going down. Instinct avoids concrete
Nudging me onto the thorn-riddled, rimmed bank.
A dressing of barbed wire. I am no tank.

If only for a shallower incline -
To not grate my temple on the devil's spine.

Yet how grateful I am to the stars
For just some peripheral scars
For warning my body: the key to life,
Against balancing oneself on a knife.

(Event: 19/10/2017)

About the poet:

Tom Platts works with Helen as the Producer of The Elixir Poetry Podcast, as well as some other podcasts. Find out more about his podcast productions: soundsapien.com

He is also a jazz singer and saxophonist who gigs around London. He is in the process of preparing a body of original songs to release - Helen asks Tom about his songwriting process in the episode. 

To follow Tom’s music you can find him on Instagram: @tomplattzs

7. I do not crush the world’s corolla of wonders: "This Is The Way I See The World!" - Andreea

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Andreea about a Romanian poem called ‘I do not crush the world’s corolla of wonders’ by Lucian Blaga.

Blaga's portrait, Museum of the Romanian Peasant

By Unknown author - [1], Public Domain

Original text of the poem:

Eu nu strivesc corola de minuni a lumii

de Lucian Blaga

Eu nu strivesc corola de minuni a lumii

şi nu ucid

cu mintea tainele, ce le-ntâlnesc

în calea mea

în flori, în ochi, pe buze ori morminte.

Lumina altora

sugrumă vraja nepătrunsului ascuns

în adâncimi de întuneric,

dar eu,

eu cu lumina mea sporesc a lumii taină -

şi-ntocmai cum cu razele ei albe luna

nu micşorează, ci tremurătoare

măreşte şi mai tare taina nopţii,

aşa îmbogăţesc şi eu întunecata zare

cu largi fiori de sfânt mister

şi tot ce-i neînţeles

se schimbă-n neînţelesuri şi mai mari

sub ochii mei -

căci eu iubesc

şi flori şi ochi şi buze şi morminte.

Translation of the poem:

I do not crush the world’s corolla of wonders

I do not crush the world’s corolla of wonders

and I do not kill

with the mind the mysteries that I encounter

on my path

in flowers, eyes, lips, or graves.

The light of others

suffocates the spell of the impenetrable unknown

that lies in depths of darkness,

but I,

with my light deepen the world’s mystery -

and just like the moon with her white rays

does not diminish, but tremulously

enhances the night’s mystery even more,

this is how I too enrich the dark horizon

with great shivers of sacred mystery

and all that is indecipherable

becomes even harder to decipher

before my eyes -

because I love

flowers, and eyes, and lips, and graves.

About the poet:

https://allpoetry.com/Lucian-Blaga

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucian_Blaga

6. Winter Swans: "So Many Of Us Don't Have Someone To Rely On" - Donna

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Donna about ‘Winter Swans’ by Owen Sheers.

Owen Sheers - Ben Priddy Photography

Text of the poem:

Winter Swans

The clouds had given their all -
two days of rain and then a break
in which we walked,
the waterlogged earth
gulping for breath at our feet
as we skirted the lake, silent and apart,
until the swans came and stopped us
with a show of tipping in unison.
As if rolling weights down their bodies to their heads 

they halved themselves in the dark water,
icebergs of white feather, paused before returning again 

like boats righting in rough weather.
'They mate for life' you said as they left,
porcelain over the stilling water. I didn't reply
but as we moved on through the afternoon light, 

slow-stepping in the lake's shingle and sand,
I noticed our hands, that had, somehow,
swum the distance between us
and folded, one over the other,
like a pair of wings settling after flight. 

About the poet:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Owen_Sheers

https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zxtxmnb/revision/8

5. Assembly Line: "I Worked In A Chinese Missile Factory When I Was 16" - Lijia Zhang

In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Lijia Zhang about ‘Assembly Line’ by Shu Ting

Chinese ‘Misty’ poet Shu Ting

Image source link

Text of the poem in Chinese:

流水线 舒婷

在时间的流水线里
夜晚和夜晚紧紧相挨
我们从工厂的流水线撤下
又以流水线的队伍回家来
在我们头顶
星星的流水线拉过天穹
在我们身旁
小树在流水线上发呆

星星一定疲倦了
几千年过去
它们的旅行从不更改
小树都病了
烟尘和单调使它们
失去了线条和色彩
一切我都感觉到了
凭着一种共同的节拍

但是奇怪
我惟独不能感觉到
我自己的存在
仿佛丛树与星群
或者由于习惯
对自己已成的定局
再没有力量关怀

1980.1-2

Translation of the poem:

Assembly Line

On the assembly line of Time

Nights huddle together

We come down from the factory assembly lines

-And join the assembly line going home

Overhead

An assembly line of stars trails across the sky

By our side

A young tree looks dazed on its assembly line

The stars must be tired

Thousands of years have passed

Their journey never changes

The young trees are ill

Dust and monotony deprive them

Of grain and colour

I can feel it all

Because we beat to the same rhythm

But strangely

The only thing I do not feel

Is my own existence

As though the woods and stars

Maybe out of habit

Maybe out of sorrow

No longer have the strength to care

About a destiny they cannot alter.

In 4 Renditions 1987

https://www.cuhk.edu.hk/rct/pdf/e_outputs/b2728/v27&28p253.pdf

About the poet:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shu_Ting

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1992-02-02-bk-1769-story.html

http://poem.tuweng.com/1970/shuzuo/2594.html

https://www.cuhk.edu.hk/rct/renditions/e_outputs.html

https://www.cuhk.edu.hk/rct/pdf/e_outputs/b2728/v27&28p253.pdf

About the reader Lijia Zhang:

Wikipedia

Socialism is Great by Lijia Zhang

Lotus by Lijia Zhang

4. Soneto de fidelidade: We Must Enjoy Everything While It Lasts - Eduardo

Brazilian poet Vinicius de Moraes

By Ricardo Alfieri - Revista Gente y la actualidad. Año 5 numero 241. 5/03/1970. Buenos Aires, Argentina., Public Domain

Text of the poem in Portuguese:

SONETO DE FIDELIDADE

São Paulo , 1946 

De tudo, ao meu amor serei atento
Antes, e com tal zelo, e sempre, e tanto
Que mesmo em face do maior encanto
Dele se encante mais meu pensamento.

Quero vivê-lo em cada vão momento
E em louvor hei de espalhar meu canto
E rir meu riso e derramar meu pranto
Ao seu pesar ou seu contentamento.

E assim, quando mais tarde me procure
Quem sabe a morte, angústia de quem vive
Quem sabe a solidão, fim de quem ama

Eu possa me dizer do amor (que tive):
Que não seja imortal, posto que é chama
Mas que seja infinito enquanto dure.
 

Estoril, outubro de 1939

Source

Translation of the poem:

Sonnet of Fidelity

Above all, to my love I'll be attentive
First and always, with care and so much
That even when facing the greatest enchantment
By love be more enchanted my thoughts.

I want to live it through in each vain moment
And in its honor I'll spread my song
And laugh my laughter and cry my tears
When you are sad or when you are content.

And thus, when later comes looking for me
Who knows, the death, anxiety of the living,
Who knows, the loneliness, end of all lovers

I'll be able to say to myself of the love (I had):
Be not immortal, since it is flame
But be infinite while it lasts.

Source

About the poem:

https://allpoetry.com/sonnet-of-fidelity

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vinicius_de_Moraes

3. The Masque of Anarchy: The Ultimate Protest Song - Bryn

Percy Bysshe Shelley by Alfred Clint https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley

Text of the extract from The Masque of Anarchy:

Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war.

And if then the tyrants dare,
Let them ride among you there;
Slash, and stab, and maim and hew;
What they like, that let them do.

With folded arms and steady eyes,
And little fear, and less surprise,
Look upon them as they slay,
Till their rage has died away:

Then they will return with shame,
To the place from which they came,
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on their cheek:

Rise, like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number!
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you:
Ye are many—they are few!

Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1847). Shelley, Mrs. (ed.). The works of Percy Bysshe Shelley. pp. 231–235

About Shelley

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Masque_of_Anarchy

Corbyn reads Shelley

About Bryn

Bryn also produces his own podcast the latest of which is an interview with Mike Jackson the co-founder of Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners who was portrayed in the film Pride. Search for the Labour Left Podcast with your favourite provider or click here to watch it on YouTube.

2. La medida de mi madre: How We Always Found A Way To Love Each Other - Julia

Julia - The Elixir Poetry Podcast guest - Episode 2

Episode 2 Commentary by Tobias Elia

(Read ‘La medida de mi madre’ below)

The Measure of My Mother- Begoña Abad  

This week Helen is joined by Julia to discuss the poem, ‘La Medida de Mi Madre’, or  ‘The Measure of My Mother’ by the Spanish poet Begoña Abad. Taking the perspective of the author, the poem looks back at the relationship between her and her mother, particularly at growth, and how over the years she has grown taller than her now small mother. Julia identifies with the sentiments expressed in the poem - her own stepmother having been only 150cm is a fundamental reason why.

However, even for those whose parents exceed belly button height, the poem is still able to resonate.  The feeling as though you and your parents are no longer in balance with each other, the wrong fit,  misaligned, is something many of us will have experienced throughout our lives, usually most painful and acute in our teenage years. 

These growing pains last past adolescence and into adulthood, so it seems impossible to find a way to balance a life created for oneself and the one our parents created for us and inhabit themselves. The struggles row back and forth and subsequent compromises and re-compromises are underpinned by a mutual desire to stay part of each other’s lives, and are most eloquently summed up by Begoña Abad-  

Through the years  

We’ve stretched and stooped  

Seeking the perfect height  

Where our love fits just right

This perfectly encapsulates the difficulties in creating one's own life and rules whilst finding a way to peacefully and meaningfully allow our parents into it.

Find Tobias Elia on Instagram

Text of the poem in Spanish:

La medida de mi madre

No sé si lo he dicho:

mi madre es pequeña

y tiene que ponerse de puntillas

para besarme.

Hace años yo me empinaba,

supongo, para robarle un beso.

Nos hemos pasado la vida

estirándonos y agachándonos

para buscar la medida exacta

donde poder querernos. 

[Begoña Abad, La editorial Olifante publicó en 2008 el poemario La medida de mi madre]

Translation of the poem:

The Measure of my Mother

I may not have mentioned it before: 

my mother stands small, 

tiptoeing to kiss me. 

Years ago, I imagine, 

it was I who reached up, 

to snatch a kiss from her. 

Through the years, 

We’ve stretched and stooped

seeking the perfect height,

where our love fits just right.

About the poet:

https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Begoña_Abad

https://www.pikaramagazine.com/2012/07/begona-abad-de-la-parte-la-poeta-que-desea-no-desearportadoras-de-suenos/

Seis poemas de Begoña Abad: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmCYWJDxM7E

1. The Ruin: I Feel Less Lonely When I Read This Poem - Kate

Episode 1 Commentary by Tobias Elia

(Read ‘The Ruin’ below)

In this week’s episode, host and poet Helen Wing is joined by Kate to discuss her current favourite poem, ‘The Ruin’ - an ancient Anglo-Saxon piece of unknown origins.

The poem explores themes of loss, imagination, and nostalgia. Written during the dark ages of ancient Britain, the narrator explores the landscape after Rome had ceased its governance of England, taking with it its order and stability. A lonely Anglo-Saxon wanders through the now ruined city of (presumably) Bath, imagining the life, warmth and revelry that would have once flowed through the now quiet and deserted ruins.

Comparisons can be drawn between the world our Anglo Saxon poet inhabits, and our own. Scenes of destruction, abandonment and grief are familiar sights to us now, as is a reminiscence for a time before collapse and uncertainty. The uncertainties that the wanderer faces bring about a desire in them to seek refuge and comfort in the past- a fondness for it that comes more to resemble idealised nostalgia, rather than an accurate recollection. The passing of time and how we are all headed to our own ruin is something further discussed by Helen and Kate.

The time period of the poem is particularly pertinent. After the fall of Rome, Britain was transformed from an organised and advanced civilisation, to one plunged into chaos and disorder. The rise, collapse, and rise again of a nation can call into question our own ideas of progress. Is it linear? Are we always advancing as a society? Perhaps, like the wanderer in the ruins, we are currently in our own dark ages, in which order and reason seem increasingly hard to come by. And so we too can find ourselves looking to the past, to what we believe were the glory days.

However, as Kate Expresses, even if something is in ruin, it can still be reached and reconstructed through memory and connection with others.

The podcast finishes with a reading of the poem in its original Anglo-Saxon, a language which has in itself now become a ruin. The reading is beautifully guttural and it is fascinating to hear it be spoken in its originality, how it was intended to be heard by its original writer.

—————————————————————————————————————

This resource is licensed under Creative Commons BY-NC-SA

Text of the extract from The Ruin:

Beorht wæron burgræced, burnsele monige,
heah horngestreon, heresweg micel,
meodoheall monig mondreama full,
oþþæt þæt onwende wyrd seo swiþe. 
Crungon walo wide, cwoman woldagas,
swylt eall fornom secgrofra wera; 
wurdon hyra wigsteal westen staþolas,
brosnade burgsteall. Betend crungon 
hergas to hrusan. Forþon þas hofu dreorgiað,
ond þæs teaforgeapa tigelum sceadeð
hrostbeages hrof. Hryre wong gecrong 
gebrocen to beorgum, þær iu beorn monig 
glædmod ond goldbeorht gleoma gefrætwed,
wlonc ond wingal wighyrstum scan; 
seah on sinc, on sylfor, on searogimmas,
on ead, on æht, on eorcanstan, 
on þas beorhtan burg bradan rices.

Translation of the extract from The Ruin:

Bright were the castle buildings, 

many the bathing halls, 

high the abundance of gables, 

great the noise of the multitudes, 

many a mead hall full of festivities 

until fate, the mighty, changed that. 

Far and wide the slain perished.

Days of pestilence came. 

Death took all the brave men away. 

Their places of war became deserted places. 

The city decayed. 

The rebuilders perished. 

The armies to earth. 

And so these buildings grow desolate 

and this red curved roof parts 

from its tiles of the ceiling vault. 

The ruin has fallen to the ground, 

broken into mounds where at one time 

many a warrior, joyous and ornamented 

with bright gold splendour, 

proud  and flushed with wine, 

shone in war trappings, 

looked at treasure, at silver, at precious stones, 

at wealth, at prosperity, at jewellery 

in this bright castle of a broad kingdom.

About the poem:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USlTpdyfebE  The Ruin by Tegan Blackwood.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ruin

https://oldenglishpoetry.camden.rutgers.edu/the-ruin/

https://www.mylearning.org/stories/multicultural-york-the-anglosaxons-ad400866/117

https://archive.org/details/codexexoniensis_2404_librivox

Welcome to The Elixir Poetry Podcast!

On this page, you will find the poems that Helen’s guests read, including links to their background information as each episode airs. We look forward to hearing all your thoughts about the podcast when the first episode comes out soon!

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