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The Dignity of Peace |
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Sergio Leon, Oaxaca, Mexico
No hallo la paz
se me ha perdido.
La busco en tus calles,
en tus caras,
pero no la encuentro
un amnesia continua
un mundo rapido
me separa, la verdad dentro.
La paz soy yo
tu, nosotros, todo
*
I can't find peace
I have lost it.
I look for it in your streets,
in your faces,
but I can't find it
a continuous amnesia
a fast world
separates me, the truth within
Peace is me
you, us, everything |
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La Pace |
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Alberto Teodori, Rome, Italy
Quando l'orizzonte si disperde tra cielo e mare
penso a tutte le cose belle che riflettono il cielo sereno,
è come avere l'azzurro in tasca
per quando il grigiore invernale ci assale.
Se potessimo scavalcare le nubi
troveremmo per sempre il sole.
Basta un po' d'azzurro in tasca e
cerchiamo di non barattare i nostri spiccioli di cielo
con qualche occasione di sconto.
Teniamo sempre in riserva il nostro azzurro in tasca,
ci potrebbe essere utile sempre.
Inseriamo nella nostra tasca oltre l'azzurro del mare e del cielo
l'arcobaleno e sicuri avremo per sempre la pace.
**
At that point where, in the horizon, sea fades into the sky
I think about all those beautiful thinks reflecting the best of life.
Like having the blue sky in your pocket
For when the grey winter will surprise us suddenly.
If we can ride the clouds and go beyond them, we will always find a blue sky.
Just a little bit in the pocket.
Let’s try to save it, don’t give it away for some illusion of a better affair.
Let’s save our blue sky in the pocket, it can be used always and everywhere.
If we take the blue of the sky, the blue of the sea and a little bit of rainbow in the pocket.
We will be sure to have peace forever. |
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Piece Flower |
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Diane Siegal, Los Angeles
In the middle of the flower-
in the heart of it,
folded petals arch their
soft, pliant, fragrant selves to
be beautiful in
the expansion of something,
together and unfolding
One thing, living and unique
touching the others, living and unique
and becoming something, so perfect,
so transient, that
the world stands in wonder of it. |
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Planted Olive Trees |
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Anonymous, Bethlehem
A saying attributed to the Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish, goes
"If the olive trees knew the hands that planted them,
their oil would have become tears ..."
to which i add...
But the trees do know
and they have tried to tell us
alas, our own tears
have mixed with the dust
from the destruction of the land
into thick mud that masks our vision
and blinds us now,
we're unable to see or be seen
one day...
when the dust settles
and the rain washes us clean
the story of the olive tree will emerge
and we'll see it clearly as clear as the green
of the leaf of the olive tree |
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