FRIENDS’ RESPONSES TO TWO IMAGES THROUGH POETRY ON SOCIAL MEDIA SEPTEMBER 2017
21 POEMS INSPIRED BY TWO IMAGES
Poems inspired by images Gabi Witthaus and I asked our Facebook friends to contribute poetry in any language to accompany two images from the series entitled ‘Hope, Trees and Little Boats’. This was in the spirit of a project 'Journeys in Translation' coordinated by Ambrose Musiyiwa and Emma Lee. We were humbled by the contributions in English, Spanish, Ladino, English, Hebrew, Greek, Hungarian, German and Chinese from Shelley Tracey, Michele Witthaus, Brenda Padilla, Ambrose Musiyiwa, Gabi Witthaus and Κατερινα Ανδρουλακη, Corinne Fernley, Paul Rudman, Arvind Bhatt, Mark Solomon, Beccy Benedict, Michele Benn, Edward Hayes, Szilvia Ponyiczski, Sophia Beswick, Johanna Wirt Calvo and Mengjie Jiang. It seemed a shame to let them float in the ether of social media, so here they are for you to keep, enjoy and be inspired by. Most of the poetry was quick and spontaneous, and few of us have had the chance to amend and refine, but it feels right. I hope you enjoy this collection of 21 heartfelt poems. Only two of the works have been previously published elsewhere. Thank you all. Let’s keep creating! George Sfougaras September 2017
Save the Books, by George Sfougaras. Ink on paper 2016.
Sailing for Aeons sailing for aeons tide strikes against us metallic black rhythms time scything a wildness we keep getting further away from the truth turn back, turn back, leaning into the past a ballast of words floating back to the shore
Shelley Tracey (South Africa and the UK)
journeying we threw things that were heavy overboard they sank we stayed afloat we lived they turned into creatures of the sea and stayed below the surface when we reached dry land they turned into creatures of shadow and followed us everywhere
Ambrose Musiyiwa (Zimbabwe and UK) ‘journeying’ is from "Over Land, Over Sea: Poems for those seeking refuge" (Five Leaves Publications, 2015) p.54
Ojalá la bondad persista
Let kindness persist
Los miró largamente antes de despedirse. Se marchaban, sin ella. Sintió sus fuerzas consumirse Como una llama que se extingue trayendo consigo una noche eterna.
She looked at them longingly before saying goodbye. They were leaving, without her. She felt her strength abandon her, like a flame that dies, bringing an eternal night.
Se había prometido ser fuerte. Si tan sólo fuera tan fácil. En cierta forma prefería la muerte. Pero seguía viva. Debía vencer en su lucha interna.
She had promised to be strong. If only it were so easy. In a way she preferred death. But she was still alive. She had to win this internal struggle.
Su tristeza se derramó a raudales. Empezó con una lágrima solitaria Que dejó un camino lleno de sales. Fue acompañada por otras, ¡tantas! Le nublaron la vista.
Her sadness flowed like a river, starting with a lonely tear, which created a salty path. It was followed by others, so many! Her sight was blurry.
Se fueron en la pequeña balsa, navegando hacia un futuro incierto, sin recursos pero con una esperanza. Y ella, sola, quedó pensando: Ojalá la bondad persista.
So they left in the little boat, sailing towards an uncertain future. They had no resources but they did have hope. And she, alone, wished: Let kindness persist.
Brenda Padilla (Mexico and UK)
Brenda Padilla English adaptation
The Journey
On land, on sea We row the boat Of dreams On our journey to Oblivion.
Edward Hayes (UK)
Οτι πιο πολύτιμο
What is of value
Με απόγνωση στα μάτια Με τον φόβο στην καρδιά Πήραμε το δρόμο της φυγής Επιλογή δεν υπήρχε άλλη
Desperation in our eyes With no choice in our minds And afraid of not coming back We are leaving ...
Παρα μόνο να περισωσουμε είχαμε. Πήρα την οικογένεια Και τα βιβλία μου
They told us, we had one last chance What is of value must be saved So here in the boat My family and books sail
Πήραμε τις αναμνήσεις και φύγαμε Για μια γη άγνωστη Με την ελπίδα να μας αγκαλιάσει Έτσι κι αλλιώς. .. Γυρισμός ίσως να μην υπάρξει.
Κατερίνα Ανδρουλάκη (Greece)
Our memories remain As we go to a place unknown With the hope to stay safe Loved and feeling blessed that we're alive With our home in our minds Never to return. Katerina Androulaki English adaptation
We will not sink Lurching, we become one with the dizzying, swirling sea Embraced by the wind that tastes of salt, And a strange bitterness. Our perceptions heightened by the eerie moonlight As the land of our last port recedes, Our destination still who knows how many hours or days out of sight. Negative spaces: life inverted, normality suspended. Gouged from our home town Daraa, Where we used to dance, carefree, on the rooftop of our house. We saved a few books Inspiration from other worlds, other lives, other times. The smugglers and their “agents” didn’t care for them. But tonight, in our world, our life, our time, This is our story. Families traumatically reconfigured by murderous, money-grabbing militias. Strangers turned intimate fellow survivors. For their sake, we will not sink. And for the sake of those who started the journey but did not get this far, We will not sink. And for our loved ones left behind, We will not sink. Gabi Witthaus (South Africa and UK). Inspired by stories from Doaa Al Zamel (https://www.una.org.uk/book-extract-hope-more-powerful-sea) and Hussein (http://stories.unhcr.org/husseins-story-greece-p4885.html)
The Books We carried too much weight The boat listed in complaint But a choice of fire or water is no choice at all So Grandpa brought his books. He clutched them, twine-bound, to his chest The stories of his youth Of odysseys and elegies And wisdom of the prophets. Under cover of night, we slid ashore Then there were more – Hands, feet, scrabbling For space as we cast off. A shout went up: Too much weight! Eyes caught Grandpa’s load, Fearful hands grabbed And it was gone. Waves washed over the pile The words sank as we watched. When there was nothing left We turned into the wind. I tugged his sleeve. “Grandpa?” He raised his head reluctantly. “Will you tell me a story?” He sighed, then he began. And as he spoke, I understood That fire and water are not the only choices. When we landed, we carried our books ashore As light as the air and as heavy as the sea. Michele Witthaus (South Africa and UK)
A poem in response to an Oxfam image from a refugee camp. The poem and the photo have been exhibited together in a travelling exhibition ‘WATERLINES’.
1) To give a presence to Invisibles, a camera must work a magic, capturing and shaping shadows. Landless ghosts with unborn futures, buried pasts. 2) Element of distance. From Burundi’s chaos in a wooden boat, Lake Tanganyika’s span. In the Nyarugusu refugee camp, Beatrice treads the same path day by day, backwards and forwards to the pump. Smear of wasted water over rusty soil. 3) We used to speak of threads that stretched but never tore, songlines, storylines, trajectories of hope. Turn language inside out, strip it down to rags, words in thief’s clothing, strung across the desert in disjointed lines. Desperate journeys. Lineage of absence, loss, despair. Shelley Tracey (South Africa and UK)
‘Hope’ Digital print from a pen and ink original by George Sfougaras. Winner Small Print International.
Tree Boat Rootless cosmopolitans They used to say Mysteriously growing Without soil Taking advantage of every breeze To move to a new land They did not know Our roots fed on water Mayim Chayyim – Waters of Life Fresh with holy wisdom Salty with our tears Thick ink-dark sea Spirit-wind moving On the face of the waters Stirring the branches Of Etz Chayyim – Tree of Life Sailing the scent of paradise Into our latest exile Mark Solomon (UK)
Little wooden boat of Hope
Little wooden boat of Hope Adrift at sea, adrift for me I hold you in my heart and mind And in your image, I seem to find A breath I didn’t know I had A dream I thought I could not hold And yet within you, I find my strength My roots, my balance, my blossom, my death But death, is not mine yet to seek Life’s new meanings, feelings, dealings Dalliance the moon lit sky Reflected deep beyond the surface Ripples of hope for glory and purpose The waves role high and the view is nigh But you tell me to hang on, HANG ON, For land will be there in the end Just breathe and let the change transcend.
Beccy Benedict (UK)
Das weisse Meer ist eingeschlafen, Es schläft mir jedes Weh und Ach. Vergessen hab' ich Ziel und Hafen, Vergessen Furcht und Lob und Strafen: Jetzt flieg ich jedem Vogel nach....[..] Idylle aus Messina ... Friedrich Nietzsche The White Sea is asleep, It all hurts me, and it hurts. I forgot my destination and port. Forget fear and praise and penalties: Now I fly every bird to....[..] idyll from Messina... Friedrich Nietzsche
Sent by Johanna Wirt Calvo (Switzerland)
The Hermit The hermit wanted to meet God. A tiny stone shelter, alone. Praying for his wish, enduring solitude. He read and reread his one book. Stories of God were a comfort. Years passed. He waited. All alone. Then one night a great storm arose. White streaks cut the sky, rumbles shook his bones. The hermit rushed to the ocean. At long last, he was to meet God. The sea wanted no visitor. It reared and foamed and threw itself over the hermit, in his little boat. But the hermit would not give in. He knew it was now or never. Again he tried. And then again until exhaustion filled his soul. But his arms rowed on, ‘till they served no more. The hermit lay down in the boat. Maybe God was not in the storm. Holding tight to the tree he felled once to shape as a boat, he felt gratitude for the world he left behind, grateful for this life that held him, grateful for the life that it held. At last the wind relented and the sea relaxed and calmed itself. The hermit stood and looked back at the shore, the lights of the village beyond, and knew that his search was complete. The wind took his tears. God was in the world. That’s where the hermit would find Him.
Paul Rudman (UK)
Uprooted from Sefarad Ancient Spanish Exiles uprooted from Sefarad the family tree sails in search of new land leaves of Ladino slip between the lips of lovers tu es yakishikli tu es hermoza handsome, beautiful words whispered by winds dispersed across continents roots delve deep in an ocean of memories drinking in sounds half-remembered yo no havlo Ladino….olvidado i don’t speak Ladino…forgotten riding waves of fear with faith Hebrew rolls off the tongue “kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tsar m’od v’ha-ikar, lo l’fached klal all the world is a very narrow bridge the main thing is not to be afraid” seas calmed by prayer and hope, the boat reaches new shores, the tree settles for a while germinating seeds of a new dream, new branches, new leaves of language Michele Benn (UK)
The Tree
The little tree found itself completely alone, From many to just one The brittle wind made its leaves tinkle A beautiful, lonely sound Echoing across the empty space It pulled its saddened roots from the ground and rustled to the troubled waters edge As it approached another little tree came into view, drawing it into the boat waiting near A reflection, a friend, a brave shadow to face the journey with. Each leaf a sail, we must prevail, each leaf a sail we must prevail... Sophia Anastasia Alice Beswick (Greece and UK)
Once upon a time Once upon a time in a dream, I was a little tree and So wanted to be free! So I made a wooden boat All the cosmos to wander. But my God you made it tough With wind that lashes hard With bad fortunes and angry seas, I felt unsafe and incomplete. I had hope and I thought I could manage in the boat But I was only a little tree Who wanted to be free‌ Then I saw that life begins When you make it through your sins If you fight and strive and still You are present and believe. Katerina Androulaki (Greece)
Hope
Ah yavrum, my baby, my beloved; she saves the sweet words for the children She is angry with him. Cehenneme git! Go to hell! Why did you not save us? He stares down at his hands, yipranmış eller, His worn hands
They would work another soil, another land, same job, same sweat; but the grapes would never be as sweet for him. Acı üzüm, bitter grapes.He had little to say on this, his words were kept for the olive trees and the sacks of raisins on his cart, Piled high like bodies
He did not live to see old age. Onun kaderi değildi, it was not his destiny, δεν ήταν γραμμένο, it was not written. It was his death sentence this ağrı this pain, these bitter tears, acı gözyaşları, τα πικρά δάκρυα for his hastily Abandoned home
Η νέα πατρίδα ήταν όμορφη, the new homeland was beautiful. But his eyes were fixed on the past. Η γιαγιά φορούσε μαύρα, Büyükanne Siyah giydi, grandmother wore the black clothes of a widow but the 6 children thrived somehow, tanrıya şükür, Δόξα τω θεώ, thank God. New languages have taken over Our dreams now
But we remember the sweetness of the old ones, Όταν πονάμε όταν προσευχόμαστε, όταν αγαπάμε...when we hurt, when we pray, when we love, When we hope.
George Sfougaras (Greece and UK)
Boat smallest candle tender flame arch of hope buoyant light on fluent seas feathering Shelley Tracey (South Africa and UK)
Threads Threads, frail veins, this tiny vessel of hope. Our roots, strong against the storm. Corinne Fernley (South Africa and Cyprus)
Hope I wandered lonely As a boat, brimful of 'asha'; Tossed by the wind and choppy sea, But my spirit, my 'asmita Burning brightly, Pushed me to shores unseen By Destiny Across the sea of disunity. Arvind Bhatt (Uganda and UK)
【希望, 盛开在绝望中的花朵】
Hope，blooms in a desperate flower
这是一个美丽的传说
希望, 盛开在绝望中的花朵
A fearless laurel tree cannot grasp its fate as it Sets foot on a worn boat full of lament. Setting off from a land without love, Looking forward to the other side of the warmth Storm bound it struggles upstream Trying to store the sun into every one of its tiny leaves. The curved body glides, Through the shape of the wind Even through the storm the laurel does not neglect to Laugh and sing. A trekking bird sits on the branches of its foliage. Residual star sparse, laurel to cover the cold night On the next day, the early dawn, The bird gratefully carries a fruit in her beak The seeds of the tree, sprout thousands of miles away Blooming out of the tranquil flowers Hope, blooms in desperation.
Mengjie Jiang (China and UK)
Mengjie Jiang, English adaptation
一颗月桂树 无畏无法把握的命运 踏上一条破旧满载着哀叹的小船 期盼着远离没有爱的尘世 到达温暖的彼岸 暴风中它力争上游 努力将阳光吸吮进每一片绿叶 弯曲的身体, 留下了风的形状 即使经历狂风暴雨，也欢笑地吟唱 一只跋涉的鸟停落枝头栖息 残星稀落，月桂掩去了极冷的夜色 再日，晨曦初照，鸟儿衔着果实 树的种子, 在千里之外萌芽 绽放出了惊讶世俗的花
Életem hajóján
On the boat of my life
Életem hajóján
On the boat of my life
Sodor az ár.
A flood is taking me away.
Tükörképem oszlik,
My reflection is cloudy.
Vagy az csak sár?
It might be just the mud.
Erőm tovaszállt,
My strength is fading away
A fagy rám talált,
The Frost found me,
Hajam kibomlik,
My hair gets messy
Éltet a halál.
I gain strength from death.
Szilvia Ponyiczki (Hungary and UK)
Szilvia Ponyiczki English adaptation
Thank you for being a part of this. September 2017
Copyright rests with the individual authors. We welcome the use of these works for educational purposes, with appropriate attribution. Email focusonidentity@gmail.com with any questions regarding this collection of works. Email amusiyiwa@googlemail.com for information about the ‘Journeys in Translation’ project and if you wish to use the poem ‘journeying’.