[A spectacular reading by A.Z. Foreman of this beautiful poem written by Kálmán Kalocsay in Esperanto can be found here. Mr. Foreman's blog entry for this poem can be found here. Please visit and introduce yourselves and enjoy his many other fine translations and readings here.]
Somernokto By Kálmán Kalocsay
La nokto de somero flustre Ekzumas per kantet' sekreta, La nokto lulas brust-ĉe-bruste Nin sur insul' de Margareta.
Ĉi kie staris iam klostro De palaj mutaj monakinoj, Kaj kie nun amkaŝa bosko Pagane kreskas sur ruinoj,
La nokt' incensas nin per mento, Rezedo, malvo kaj narciso, Kaj unktas nin per sakramento De amo: nefinebla kiso.
Kiel jubile ĉiuj griloj Per sia ĉirpo frenezumas! Inter la herboj la lampiroj Diskrete, sole por si, lumas.
Kiel grandega strasa tulo Nin kovras la ĉiela arko, Kaj lante kun ni la insulo Eknaĝas kiel nupta barko.
still, my excised anima, chronic nostalgia in flute-song, not knowing where you've been,
insipid within, missing part of a soul as if venter and atria have long gone sterile—
dross-dammed heart-spring, made wadi-dry by a life's pursuit of root & moirae;
you — my core, heartache my love
here & now — this diminishing umbra;
refrain fades out, harmonics begin, mora bounds
[This version is primarily thanks to my super talented friend, Shell, whose own work you can read and enjoy here ... do stop by over there and introduce yourself ... Shell, my heartfelt thanks to you, for this edition, it's far superior than the other ... you are indeed a fine poet (but this is not news to me) ... I'm fortunate to have you as friend ... Now, get back to work and write! ... ha:].
genuine doubt oscillates pitch perfect fishtails amidst certainty and wraith reticent foremost, by dawn unrestrained faith outside obligatory Fata Morgana displaced flame hesitant but certain of affliction's intermittent aura to one extent or another incessant torment— almost reliably by now love.
heat-death is possible for us as you know it is fairly commonplace but entirely another matter for stars and celestial space. entropy for us is just: melting ice; whereas, speculation there, if vacuum decays; becomes almost-dead, abruptly revives— sometimes.
you are emerald blue: your words torrent, power profound, propel waves apparent as they crest even before they spontaneously break upon distant shores. the very fact that you are is in and of itself testament to forces i can hardly fathom, (no, not the divines, benevolent or wise beyond wise, nor ones who hold sway over the guise of lines and rhyme) yet drive my desire to rearrange posts i hold fast: restack axiom over mantra, restore the disorders caused by magnetic pulses you periodically discharge. i cannot square how mere happenstance, or strain of alchemy i am presently ignorant of, ultimately sculpts your form: protracts flawless ripples which radiate from your core; harmonious shuddering even when not provoked by phases of our oscillating Moon; ardent scion of celestial verses we lovingly call our own.