Pale Cast

Day 21 NaPoWriMo 2020

(Photo by Aashish Vaidya)

Pale Cast

The subconscious mind intends

A potent, but merciful, rosy scene

 

Nearby, the desk portrait decays in blue light,

My soul freezes at every lore That Man concocts

And my face goes raw.

 

The camera captures my chiseled face in forest

But my last photograph doesn’t flatter

even in profile.

 

Now tuned into pandemonium bereft of data

 

misguidance makes even the sun ebb

In a pale cast.

 

Cast normalcy

aside and doubts linger.

 

Notes:  Day 21 of NaPoWriMo 2020.  Today’s prompt:

“….asks you to make use of today’s resource. Find a poem in a language that you don’t know, and perform a “homophonic translation” on it. What does that mean? Well, it means to try to translate the poem simply based on how it sounds. You may not wind up with a credible poem at the end, but this can be a fun way to step outside of your own mind for a bit, and develop a poem that speaks in a distinctive voice. As an example, here are the first four lines of a poem by the Norwegian poet Gro Dahle….”

I picked a poem Underneath Me in Romanian by Domnica Drumea.  Here’s the original:

sub mine se întinde

o pată mare şi roşie

nu mai pot trăi decât cu lichide

mirosul frigiderelor pline cu mâncare

îmi face rău

închisă în camera fără ferestre

mă las fotografiată din faţă

şi din profil

tu n-ai iubit pe nimeni niciodată

mă ghidez după sunete ca un orb

îmi păzesc castronul

castronul meu gol

şi lingura mea docilă

 

Here’s my first translation which was pretty jumbled up:

What the mind intends

a potent mercy rosy

near my portrait decay blue light chide

My soul frigid every lore feline cue man cares

In my face raw

In chisel face in camera in far forest

My last photography didn’t flatter

Is the profile

 

Tune in, albeit pandemonimum a bit per no men niche data

misguidance dupes the sun at its ebb

In my past cast null

Cast null my goal

See linger my do silly

 

Here’s the actual translation by Anca Barbulescu:

underneath me

a big red stain spreads

I can only live with liquids

the smell of fridges full of food

makes me sick

locked in the windowless room

I let myself be photographed from the front

and from the side

you never loved anyone

I guide myself by sound like a blind man

I guard my bowl

my empty bowl

and my docile spoon

 

It seems, Maureen’s (Thorson) gone back to 2013 NaPoWriMo prompts for many of the inspiration for 2020 prompts.  So if you’ve made it this far, here’s my 2013 NaPoWriMo poem on the same prompt.  I looks like I picked Gro Dahle’s poem in 2013.  In re-reading the poem, I think I like how it turned out.

Complexly Simple: Oregon Strawberries

Day 18 NaPoWriMo 2020

(Photo by Aashish Vaidya)

Complexly Simple: Oregon Strawberries

On the vine in cool nights, sipping in morning dew
soaking in warm rays of late spring sun,
unhurriedly taking its time to grow,
hiding under dense foliage, the pickers
on proposal pose, pluck four or five at a time,
before carefully placing them in buckets.
 
From there within a day, a quick journey to the store
And in my hands – the tiny, deep red, pieces of goodness.
Plucking the cap and promptly popping in my mouth,
irresistible pieces of fruity, sugary goodness,
the delicious, perfect slices of heaven
quickly melts, promptly releasing a cocktail of
dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins.
It can’t get more complex than this
It doesn’t get more simple than this.

 
Notes:  Day 18 of NaPoWriMo 2020.  Today’s prompt:

Our optional prompt for the day also honors the idea of Saturday (the Saturdays of the soul, perhaps?), by challenging you to write an ode to life’s small pleasures. Perhaps it’s the first sip of your morning coffee. Or finding some money in the pockets of an old jacket. Discovering a bird’s nest in a lilac bush or just looking up at the sky and watching the clouds go by.

Not much to say on this one – if you haven’t experienced Oregon strawberries, you haven’t lived a good life.  And that is not hyperbole.