Short Poems

Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look'd on thee, I lost mine eyes.

See here an easy feast that knows no wound,
That under hunger's teeth will needs be sound;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread,
What would ye more? Here food itself is fed.

Let it no longer be a forlorn hope
To wash an Ethiope;
He's wash'd, his gloomy skin a peaceful shade,
For his white soul is made;
And now, I doubt not, the Eternal Dove

The world is large, when its weary leagues two loving hearts divide;
But the world is small, when your enemy is loose on the other side.

Thy father all from thee, by his last will,
Gave to the poor ; thou hast good title still.

The petals of the vagina unfold
like Christofer Columbus
taking off his shoes.

Is there anything more beautiful
than the bow of a ship
touching a new world?

Entre les rangées d'arbres de l'avenue des Gobelins
Une statue de marbre me conduit par la main
Aujourd'hui c'est dimanche les cinémas sont pleins
Les oiseaux dans les branches regardent les humains
Et la statue m'embrasse mais personne ne nous voit
Sauf un enfant aveugle qui nous montre du doigt.

Alt, som Tidens Gnister slukkes ud
For udødelige Blik herneden,
Funkle klarere dem ned fra Gud
Underfulde Glimt af Evigheden.

Her ligger under grønne Tillie
C. Winther, meget mod sin Villie!

after the Maltese of Immanuel Mifsud

In the electronic age, every nutcase
With a notebook is writing a masterpiece.
They spend their nights locked up in chat rooms
And emerge with red eyes and love poems.