SOME CHEERFUL POEM

Coming back from a walk

I drink hot coffee,

seek some cheerful poem

to quickly translate

for my mind to get

lost into, to

wander away

from the autumn landscape

02.11.2026

FROM THE DISTANCE OF THE DESK

What the mind thought

to be a patch of clear sky

emerging

from the distance

of the desk,

was,

moving

to the window,

not blue sky

between

torn clouds,

only darker clouds;

illusion 

of the world

opening 

into something

more 

than this.

02.11.2026

SOME PRIMAL CHARACTER FLAW

Reading Herman Hesse

makes me unfailingly

melancholy,

it's always too late

when the mind wanders

through his pages,

no matter the fate

of his characters,

you know it was for you;

somehow, free will

absent or incapacitated

by some primal flaw.

02.11.2026

POEM WRITTEN WHILE WAITING FOR THE PHONE TO CHARGE

Noticed each device

had ran out of power,

the mobile phone

not been plugged properly

into the charger,

when I intended to take a walk

recording a short video,

taking photographs,

as the landscape beckoned,

the humid mid-day air

on the edge of rain,

heavy mist on the distant,

silent ridge

looming like regrets

of mistakes made

turning into absenses.

02.11.2026

ON THE UNITED NATIONS GENERAL ASSEMBLY VOTE ON THE UNITED STATES BLOCKADE OF CUBA

The Baltic countries and Ukraine

go endlessly around crying,

demanding, pleading more

and more support for themselves,

while kicking other nations

to please their tormentors;

now it was Cuba

they were ready to sacrifice

to please the United States

while the USA

and its ruling Fascist billionaires

cavorted with Russia.

There's a lesson here

they might never learn

before it's too late.

02.11.2026

AUTUMN HOURS

I have been lost on the winding

paths of poetry, going around

among the withered undergrowth,

the bare autumnal trees,

the russet colours

of loss and decay,

and now my hands are tired

and cold

and my back aches

as I sit before a screen

filled with the words

of dead

poets long one with the earth

as the daylight grows brighter

beyond my windows.

02.11.2026

ON THE FIRST MORNING OF NOVEMBER

I will make more coffee
and translate Shakespeare

and start thinking
of taking a long walk
to the cemetery,
to the beach,
across the gray
hours of the first
November day.

01.11.2026

SWAINE AND STRONG

Was going to translate 

a poem by Leonard Strong,

but those who take credit 

for what others wrote

deserve nothing

but a few mocking lines.

28.10.2026

AUTUMN AT THE GATES OF WINTER STANDS

Night into pale morning thins,

autumn at the open gates of winter

stands; wind sways the bare

branches, whisper

carried in the chill breeze

coming coming coming.

The harvest of the summer months

lies wet and withered on the ground.

One such morning soon

will find the land briefly white,

snowflakes fallen in the dark;

this dawn mere 

brown puddles reflecting

the clouds that hid the cold stars

and hide the cold Sun,

and the chill wind

bare branches swaying

still whispers

coming coming coming

as pale morning

dim day becomes.

28.10.2026

NOW THE MORNING DAWNS DIM

After the thunder

roared and lightning struck

all evening and night

it rained

and now the morning

dawns dim

under milku clouds

hiding the sunlight

shining above

in the blue girdling ocean.

17.08.-27.10.2026

TIR-NA-NOG

What but momentary

escape

can art offer

a brief exile

from our lives

in this stricken world?

Oisin on the side

of Niamh

until the girdle breaks

and we hit the beloved

ground

and all our years return.

27.10.2026

ON A LATE OCTOBER NIGHT, TWO HOURS BEFORE SUNRISE

Last hours

of darkness

soon trees

will start

emerge black

against darkest

blue

&

then casting

away its dark

robes the gray

dawn, shivering.

27.10.2026

THE SWAN ON DARK AUTUMN WATERS

The swan

comes

gliding

on cold

autumn waters,

o Leda

beware not.

What is the worst

a swan

can do

a man

has yet to do?

That king

that lies

drunken

on your

bed, his

rough touch,

and his

quick

grunting

that brought

his mortal

spawn

forth

from your

womb,

o Leda -

what is

the touch

of a plumed

swan

compared to that?

The swan

comes gliding

on dark autumn waters -

o Leda,

stay

among the dying reeds,

the world

of men

has faded away.

20.10.2026

IN LATE AUTUMN

Colder nights

after 

shorter days

of fading

       gold,

sharp blue,

the snow

still

   unfallen

the autumn

spreads

across

     the remains

of the withered

            year.

Unburied

the summer lies

             dead

in scattered leaves.

20.10.2026

ANCIENT GODS 3

A mortal male

saw in a female god

only the object

of his passing lust

not the power

that the form itself

granted over him

not how their

immortal eyes

saw in his

mortal flesh

all his years

and the decay

to come

a crying baby

youth in passing bloom

the swift years

in which he stands

before their immortal gaze

the coming death they know

and its unfleshing hand

the dust

that crumbles

inside a skull

the shade

that wails

mourning

in Hades

18.10.2026

ANCIENT GODS 2

Ancient female gods

never came to men

wearing a beastly guise

(like the male gods

came to beguile women)

they came in the form

men thought they could dominate

and thus were not afraid

(as much as Actaeon

could have told them otherwise).

18.10.2026

ANCIENT GODS 1

Don't wonder why the ancient gods

came to women as an ox or a swan

or a golden shower -

if they would have come

in the guise of men

the women would have known

to be afraid and would have run.

18.10.2026

QUESTIONS

Men are such

beasts

primeval

you wonder

why they

are not

extinct?

Or evolved

to their

bare usefulness

while

harmless

like

the males

of the triplewart

seadevil anglerfish?

15.-17.10.2026

AUTUMN SKY

Withered leaves

floating on dark waters

among the bare branches

on the autumn sky.

17.10.2026 

AUTUMN WIND

Autumn wind

dropped withered leaves

in the dark waters

of the puddles

to float among

the clouds.

17.10.2026 

FROM SUCH COLOURS

Patches of pale

            blue

between the undulating

hills of white

clouds

     yet

        here

on the ground

among the brown

land

and dark green

evergreens

still green

grass

    a gray

day

   emerging

into being

from such

        colours.

15.10.2026

TO THE RIGHTWINGERS

We lost
and you won

and smug
in your victory

celebrating
made a speech and a policy

you declared
that nothing good

is possible
that things can go only get worse

the rich richer
the poor poorer

you went
and opened the door

to let the nazis in
shook their hands

and told them
you have the same oligarch masters

that they could
take your place

and have it all
until the oceans sank the cities

and the deserts ate the farmlands
before the century ends

but should spare you
for you had served your common masters

so well
against us

11.10.2026

PROPAGANDA AND ITS VICTIMS

From reading Philip K. Dick's Ubik

in which nudity 

                          sells Zionism

in the form of a teenager

                                            from a kibbutz 

                                                                      in Topeka, Kansas,

(propaganda for Zionism 

hasn't changed 

                            in 57 years)

in midst of questions 

                                     about life, death

and reality

                   moving

                   to reading news

of the ongoing

                         genocide

                         by Israel

of how Zionism

                           has killed 15 people

in the last thirty-six hours

in Gaza

and one in West Bank,

victims

from 8-year-old

                            little girl,

                                                Shahd Abdul Razzaq al-Najjar,

                                                shot dead 

                                                                 by Israel's quadcopter drone,

to a burned youth,

                                 Ahmad Khamis Najaa,

remembered from a video,

in agony

                in the aftermath of a massacre

ten days earlier;

                             watching him then

I knew

            he would die

and hoped otherwise

                                      knowing he wouldn't.

10.10.2026

VENICE

I think I have translated a poem

feeling

     satisfied

for a job done

only to find out

I have translated a fragment

of a much longer poem

it works better

than a fragment of Sappho

on its own

has the fullness

of a poem

even when it's just

the torso of a marble

statue

     defaced.

09.10.2026

THE WITNESS TO THEIR IMMORTALITY

Every falling raindrop

tells me

Write a poem

about me

But I have

written a poem

already

about all of 

you

I answer

You have come

before

and you

will come again

from the clouds

and to the clouds

and again

from the clouds

You are permanent

I am the one

who is fleeting

in this world

Yet the raindrops

don't listen

they keep telling me

Write a poem

about me

That is why

you are here

09.10.2026

NAVI PILLAY WINS NOBEL PEACE PRIZE

Navi Pillay

former South African chair

of United Nations Independent Committee

which concluded Israel

has committed a genocide

in Palestine's Gaza Strip

was announced

Nobel Peace Prize winner

just hours after

Zack Polanski's defeat

in a by-election in the United Kingdonm

was blamed

on his Green Party's

opposition to the genocide

by Israel

in Palestine's Gaza Strip

opposition to genocide

by Israel

in Palestine's Gaza Strip

had been declared

"a niche issue"

by the "sensible moderates"

of the British commentariat

now reluctant

to mention genocide

Israel

and Navi Pillay

in the same article

09.10.2026

13:39

All the waken hours
of the autumn day
spent listening
to the sound of rain

and even asleep
the sound of raindrops
on leaf and pane
and mind.

09.10.2026

AT 19:43

Night, already,

those short, 

         dark blue

summer nights

gone,

    a vast 

black quilt

         spread

over almost

         half the day

and no stars    

embroidered

in its

     cold

         fabric.

08.10.2026

LISTENING TO THE SOUND OF THE RAIN AT DARKNESS JUST BEFORE SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING ON A MID-AUTUMN NIGHT

Years fall into the

abyss

     as crumbling

ruins,

     time

the great

devourer

       eats

its own

      offspring,

ever hungry,

ever fertile,

ever hungry

until in the cold

cosmic distance

beyond the death

of the last

black hole

meaningless

it exists

unbegetting

until

quantum fluctuation

in the vacuum

rebirths

the Phoenix.

08.10.2026

GETTING BACK FROM A WALK AFTER SIX IN THE EVENING

Getting back from

my walk,

in thickening

rain,

    as the autumn

day

rushes

     towards the night,

I think of poems,

explore

      words,

yet can't forget

the guns

       speaking

with the voice

of the powerful

against

      the poetry

of beating

        human hearts.

08.10.2026

BUT BEFORE I RECHARGE MYSEF

It's getting very dark.

If I want

        to go

for a walk,

         I need

to go,

     now.

I gulp down

last of the still

hot coffee,

get up

      and head for

the door

as the fire alarm

in the ceiling

chirps

     like a bird

reminding

me

      it's time

to change 

the battery.

08.10.2026

POEM WRITTEN BETWEEN 17:06-17:10 O'CLOCK

Over an hour to sunset,

but the Sun

and its beams

hidden the whole day

by zealous clouds,

keeping its piercing

lances of light

for themselves

in the celestial

realm, it's

now gloomy

already, almost

like midnight

on Midsummer night.

08.10.2026

1989 AND ALL THAT

How foolish I was in 1989,

happy seeing

what was taking place

in eastern Europe,

thinking it freedom,

buying into

the "1989 is new 1789"

nonsense

when it was a royal

counter-revolution,

1814 not 1789,

disruption in the correct

flow of human history,

turning back the clock

to 1933,

except now

the Fascists

have few adversaries

among the nations,

all those liberals

declaring the victory

of their world order

in 1989

waving white flags,

welcoming

the Nazis

as rulers of humanity,

stamping

on their own

supposed

laws, values

and virtues

as they did

on ours

in 1989.

08.10.2026

ADMISSION

I have never read

a word

from Anne Carson

before today,

being

barely aware

of her existence,

so it's unfair

of me

towards the author

to think

the Nobel Committee

wanted to give

the Prize

again to a Canadian

as a show

of political support,

like to Sillanpää

in 1939,

yet didn't dare

to give

it to Margaret Atwood,

being afraid

it would be

too much

support,

angering

the Nazis

in the United States.

(Unfair,

yet I have

to shake this

thought

as a poem,

like a tree

its leaves

in autumn.)

08.10.2026

THE SOUND OF RAIN ON AN EARLY OCTOBER AFTERNOON

Just audible

the sound of rain

from beyond

the windows

but as I go

and gaze outside

at the withering

landscape

beyond the panes

seemingly

frozen in timeless

autumnal hour

I see no sign

of the rain

on the puddles

on the gravel road

too far

too see

raindrops

breaking their surface.

Yet the sound

tells me

what my eyes

fail to see,

and I see

in my mind

raindrops falling

on dark firs,

on still green

wet grass,

on fallen leaves

brown, red and yellow,

a landscape

inside me,

and the flesh

another pane

separating.

Three different landscapes

for two senses

and the mind,

and I inhabit

all of them,

briefly,

ephemerally,

less rooted

in them

than the trees,

more like the raindrops.

08.10.2026

OCTOBER WINDS

Winds, all day

winds blowing

from the morning light

onwards,

winds

across the hours of the day.

Winds and midday sunshine

and winds as shadows lenghtened,

winds and sunset,

and now

winds blowing

in the pitch black night.

06.10.2026

AUTUMN POND

On a green autumn pond

a little frog smiling

among fallen leaves.

05.10.2026

PASTICHE

The lone bird

that sings

in chill morning

sings

with a voice

half-remembered

from undated days

when such

mornings

evoked something

more than weight

of years.

05.10.2026

BEGINNING

Day dawns slowly,

devoid of sunbeams

pale gray in dim

October light

to misted horizon

in space and mind.

05.10.2026

AT 20:34 ON OCTOBER 4TH MMXXVI

Two hours ago

bright,

     almost cloudless

dark blue sky,

            mist

hanging

      on the fields

and orange

         leaves

on the birch

trees

    still waiting

for the wind

to cast 

them

in the clear

          air,

and now,

all

   sunk

into

    darkness.

04.10.2026