Poetry

Maori: The Creation

2019-08-10T12:21:56+02:00

From conception came growth.
From the growth, thriving.
From thriving, exuberant thought.
From the thoughts, memory.
From the memory, desires.

* *

The word became fruitful
bathed in a pale glow
creating the night:
a good night, a long night,
the lowest night, the highest night,
a dense night that can be felt,
a touchable night,
an unseen night:
The night that lasts,
the night ending in death.

* * *

Out of nothing came creation.
Out of nowhere came thriving.
There is an abundance out of nothing.
The exuberant power, the living breath
carried with emptiness
created the firmament of heaven above us.

The air that floats above the earth,
a large vault above us, a gaping space
brought to us by the dawn.

Then the moon came up.
The air was carried by the bright sky.
Then the sun came up.
They are cast high as the main eyes of the sky.
Then the sky became light.
Early dawn, early morning.
Noon: a daily flame from heaven.

The Māori are the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand. Māori originated with settlers from eastern Polynesia, who arrived in New Zealand in several waves of canoe voyages somewhere between 1320 and 1350.

Tonga: A Social Poem

2019-08-10T12:08:54+02:00

We sat chatting about Vavau Tua Lik;
Then the women spoke to us:
"Let's go look for Lik, to watch the sunset;
Let's listen to the birds chirp and the dove coo.
Let's pick flowers on the slope of Matato.
Let's take a swim in the sea and in fresh water
Of Wov Akasa, and let us smell the scented oil.
Let's knit wreaths and wrap our flowers
Which we picked at Matato."
We stand on the slope of Matato, motionless, staring down
Where the deep sea is visible.
And as our soul floats, from the tall toa trees, from the plain of the interior
A strong wind is coming to us.
My soul expands as I watch the waves in the deep,
How foolishly they try to break through the solid rocks!
Oh, how lucky we are to be here instead of Mu!
It's evening - let's go to the village!
Hearing! The voices of the singer are heard.
Are they preparing to play, to celebrate the night at Tene's grave?
Let's go there!
But shouldn't we think about our earlier life,
When the war had not yet split our country ?!
Come on! War is something terrible!
See: The country is devastated and many people have been cruelly killed.
The chiefs were left without huts, no longer sneaking around,
To their mistresses, in the moonlight.
Enough thinking! It's just a wish! Our country is at war!
Fiji has invaded our country Tonga:
Now we have to make war.
Let's leave the sad thoughts; tomorrow we may be dead!
Let's dress Hikulu now, put her on Tapa's head,
We decorate our forehead with wreaths of Jiala,
We hang white Huns flowers around the door to highlight
Our skin dark from the sun.
Hear the people cry!
The dance ends, and they share the rite from our ceremony.
Let's go home tomorrow!
Men want us - they beg us to give them
Our wreaths of flowers;
Flattering us, telling us:
"Beautiful women from Lik,
Their skin is lovely with sunshine,
Their scent is like the flowerbed of Mataloko and Veihu.
I long to go to Lik: tomorrow, tomorrow, let's go there already!"

Tonga, officially the Kingdom of Tonga, is a Polynesian sovereign state and archipelago comprising 169 islands, of which 36 are inhabited.

Apache: Poems of Masked Indians

2019-08-10T11:57:47+02:00

When the earth came into being
when the sky arose
when my songs first sounded
the holy mountain stood before me revived.
In the center of the sky, a revived boy
goes down four roads at once.
My mountain became a part of me: revived in front of me.
Players emerged: revived in front of me.

When the sun goes down into the plain of the earth
where the Meskal Mountains lay their heads out
into the rays of the rising sun
A spruce appeared: here it is next to me.

At the very center of the sky, a holy boy revives his steps
in all four directions.
The four-colored light goes down revived four times
This place is called the Black Point of Life
This place is called the Blue Point of Life
This place is called the Yellow Point of Life
This place is called the White Point of Life
all these places have heard of me
black dancers dance in all four points
The sun is moving down towards the earth.

The living sky is smeared with black
The living sky is smeared with blue
The living sky is smeared with yellow
The living sky is smeared with white
Young spruces stand like girls waiting for their game on the path of life.
From the very beginning of my songs, they have been made of black words.
When Earth was created
When the sky arose
The land merged with the end
The sky merged with the end
Black dancer, black thunder,
as they came nearer to each other
all evil things have vanished
Lightning from a black storm hit the evil four times
And hit me four times, too.

The Apache are a group of culturally related Native American tribes in the Southwestern United States, which include the Chiricahua, Jicarilla, Lipan, Mescalero, Salinero, Plains and Western Apache. Distant cousins of the Apache are the Navajo, with which they share the Southern Athabaskan languages. There are Apache communities in Oklahoma, Texas, and reservations in Arizona and New Mexico. Apache people have moved throughout the United States and elsewhere, including urban centers. The Apache Nations are politically autonomous, speak several different languages and have distinct cultures.

California Indians: Three Shaman Poems

2019-08-10T11:42:31+02:00

I'm sitting by the door
making moccasins
and I don’t mean anything,
the sun was half-sunken
at the end of the plain.

I'm talking to the lake.
I tell everyone in the lake.
I'm not a human being.

I'm the hawk of Pis'vis,
I am me.
I thought it was me
but I'm just a head.
I'm a crying head in the desert.

A snake on a wall stretched out in the sun,
slip into your hole
and tell the rain to appear:
my heart dries in my chest.

Ravens on a branch of dry wood,
fly to mother sun,
Old-Spider-in-the-sky
and tell her my heart
is slowly icing among the ribs.

The indigenous peoples of California (known as Native Californians) are the indigenous inhabitants who have lived or currently live in the geographic area within the current boundaries of California before and after the arrival of Europeans. With over forty groups seeking to be federally recognized tribes, California has the second largest Native American population in the United States.

Passamaquoddy Indians: Stars

2019-08-10T11:36:15+02:00

Because we are stars. Because we sing.

Because we sing with light.

Because we are birds that give birth to flames.

Because we spread our wings all over the sky.

Our light is our voice.

We are cutting the path for the soul

on its way to death.

Because the three of us in the tribe are hunters.

These three love bears.

Because it was never time

in which these three did not hunt.

Because we look at the hills with contempt.

This song is a star song.

The Passamaquoddy (Peskotomuhkati or Pestomuhkati in the Passamaquoddy language) are an American Indian/First Nations people who live in northeastern North America, primarily in Maine, United States, and New Brunswick, Canada.

Eskimos: Hunger

2019-08-10T11:26:00+02:00

You, stranger, you who see us only happy and carefree
If only you knew the horrors we often had to endure
you would understand our love for eating, singing and dancing.
There is none of us
who has not experienced a winter of bad hunting
when many were starving.
We are never surprised to hear
that someone died of starvation - we're used to it.
They should not be blamed: The disease comes,
or bad weather destroys the hunt,
Like when a blizzard buries air holes.

I once saw a wise old man hang himself
because he was starving
and he preferred to choose his own way of dying.
But before he died, he filled his mouth with seal bones
to make sure he would have plenty of meat
in the land of the dead.

Once during the winter famine
a woman gave birth to a child
as people lay around her dying of starvation.

What could that baby want from living here on earth?
And how could she possibly live when her mother was starved?
So the mother strangled her and put her out in the frost.
And later she ate her, just to stay alive.

Then one seal was caught and the famine came to an end,
and the mother survived.
But was left paralyzed
because she ate her own blood and her own flesh.

This is what can happen to people.
We went through it all ourselves
and we know what can happen to all people,
so we don't blame them.

And how can anyone who is fat and healthy
understand the frenzy of hunger?

All we know is: we love life so much.

Eskimo or Eskimos are the indigenous peoples who have traditionally inhabited the northern circumpolar region from eastern Siberia (Russia) to Alaska (of the United States), Canada, and Greenland.

Eskimo Poem: Heaven and Hell

2019-08-10T09:53:07+02:00

When we finally die,
we know so little about what happens later.
But people who dream
They often see the dead as they appear
as they were in life.
And that is why we believe that life does not end here on earth.

We have heard of three places where people go after death:
There is a Heavenly Earth, a blessed place
where there is no sadness and fear.
There were the brave who went there
and they came back to tell us about it:
They see people with shovels, happy people
people of laughter and pleasure.
What we see from there are stars like
windows on houses in the villages of the dead
in Heavenly Earth.

There are other underworlds of the dead:
a little deeper there is an area similar to the terrestrial one
with the difference that we are starving on earth
while they are living in abundance there.
Kraip pastures with innumerable herds
and endless plains
with juicy berries tasty to eat.

Everything down there
is happiness and pleasure for the dead.
But there is another place, the land of Jada,
just below the surface of the land we are stepping on.
That's where all the lazy, all the feeble hunters go
and all women who reject tattooing
not wanting to worry about beauty at all.
For life, they were lifeless
and so now after death they squat
heads bent, gloomy and quiet,
hungry and docile
for they have consumed their lives.
Only when a butterfly flies past them
then they lift their heads
(as a birdling opens its uselessly weak beak hunting a mosquito).
If they do get their hands on the butterflies, they will catch a dust bubble
that pops out of their dry throats.

Eskimo Poem: The Invisible Men

2019-08-09T23:06:56+02:00

There is a tribe of invisible men
who move around us like shadows - have you felt them?
They have bodies like ours and live just like us,
using the same kind of weapons and tools
You can see their tracks in the snow sometimes
and even their igloos
but never the invisible men themselves.
They cannot be seen except when they die
for then they become visible.

It once happened that a human woman
married one of the invisible men.
He was a good husband in every way:
He went out hunting and brought her food
and they could talk together like any other couple.
But the wife could not bear the thought
That she did not know wha tthe man she married looked like.
One day when they were both at home
she was so overcome with curiosity to see him
that she stabbed with a knife where she knew he was sitting,
And her desire was fulfilled
Before her eyes a handsome young man fell to the floor.
But he was cold and dead, and too late
she realized what she had done,
and sobber her heart out.

When the invisible men heard about this murder
they came out of their igloos to take revenge.
Their bows were seen moving through the air
and the bow strings stretching as they aimed their arrows.
The humans stood there helplessly
for they had no idea what to do or how to fight
because they could not see their assailants.
But the invisible men had a code of honor
that forbade them to attack opponents
who could not defend themselves
so they did not let their arrows fly,
and nothing happened; there was no battle after all
and everyone went back to their ordinary lives.

Eskimo or Eskimos are the indigenous peoples who have traditionally inhabited the northern circumpolar region from eastern Siberia (Russia) to Alaska (of the United States), Canada, and Greenland.

Tibet: A Proclamation

2019-08-09T22:48:34+02:00

A man born of a flower in space
a man riding a stallion born by a barren mare
holding the reins of the turtle's hair
using a rabbit-tail knife
strikes his enemies

a man who speaks without lips
and sees without eyes
a man who hears without ears
and runs without legs

the sun and moon play
and they blow into the trumpets
the child touches the wheel of the law
and topples it

The Tibetan people are an ethnic group native to Tibet. Their current population is estimated to be around 6.5 million. In addition to living in Tibet Autonomous Region, significant numbers of Tibetans live in other parts of China, as well as in India, Nepal, Bhutan and the western world.

Santal People: Miscarriage

2019-08-09T22:39:02+02:00

Like a bone
looked the first-born child
the white ants ate it
oh my love, don't cry
don't grieve
the two of us are here
and the white ants ate it

You go through the village
I'll walk through the garden
we will take the child away
to the right is a crooked tree
to the left is a stump
oh my love
we will bury it between them.

The Santal, or Santhal, are an ethnic group native to India, Bangladesh, Nepal and Bhutan in South Asia. The Santals mostly speak Santali, an Austroasiatic language and that is the most widely-spoken of the Munda languages.

Western Mongolia: A Poem

2019-08-09T22:29:24+02:00

I have a shade of thick fir-trees
at the foot of the high mountains.
The summer of distant plains,
come back to us one day!

I have a shade of scented pines
at the base of mute peaks.
The sun of the distant plains,
come back to us one day!

I have a shade of silver jaspers
past glistening clear streams.
Grasses and mosses of the far plains,
come back to us one day!

Lapland: A Herd of Reindeer

2019-08-09T22:22:42+02:00

A herd of reindeer in the Varanger Peninsula
runs over rocks and stone heights.
Beautiful beasts claw their hooves
on the tops of the rocks.

The big white reindeer shines
at the top of Mount Emitoaive
near Anjoku.
He proudly wears his huge horns.

LaplandLapland or Sápmi is an ethno-cultural region stretching over northern Fennoscandia (parts of Sweden, Finland, Norway, and Russia).

Greetings to the Chief of an Akan State

2019-08-09T22:12:14+02:00

Greetings to the chief of an Akan state on the occasion of the new year

The year has come round.
I have come to greet you,
To shower blessings on you.
Live long, live long, live long,
Live to a good old age.

The drummer of the talking drums says,
He showers his blessings on you.
Live long, live long, live long,
Live to a good old age.

The God of old says,
He showers his blessings on you.
Live to a good old age, chief,

The Earth Amponyinamoa says,
She showers her blessings on you.
Live to a good old age.
Live long, live long, live long,
Live to a good old age.

May years be added to your years.

Akan people are a meta-ethnicity residing in the southern regions of the former Gold Coast region, in what is today the nation of Ghana.

The poem was first written down by Carl Einstein, (26 April 1885 – 5 July 1940), born Karl Einstein, was an influential German Jewish writer, art historian, anarchist and critic.

Angola: How to Test a Friend

2019-08-09T22:03:26+02:00

To make sure your friend is a true friend,
you have to go with him,
to travel with him night and day,
travel with him near and far.

Or you have to part with him,
to leave and leave him in your house.
If then he shows himself worthy of trust
then you can really trust
his friendship.

Zanzibar: A Poor Man's Poem

2019-08-09T21:54:42+02:00

Give me a chair
and let me sit among you
as I celebrate poverty
and scarcity.

The face of the poor
remains wrinkled
because of hunger and thirst
in his stomach.

The poor man cannot eat
with the rich man
when eating fish
he eats his head.

Go and call the one
who has no bread
to come and eat crumbs
and thorns from bowls.

The poor is a nobody
since he owns nothing.
Although of noble birth
no honor is shown to him.

The poor is a snake -
his brothers avoid him
because of the misery that poverty
brings with it.

But still, when the poor gets sick,
his relatives are prompted
to do him some good;

But when the rich man gets sick,
if he wants to light a lamp,
he must ask a slave.

Yoruba People: Shango

2019-08-09T21:06:03+02:00

Shango is a death that kills money with a big stick
A lying man dies in his home
Shango hits a fool
The liar runs away as soon as Shango's nose frowns
I'm scared of Shango even when he's not attacking
But when war shines in his eye
His enemies and devotees all flee together
Fire in the eye, fire in the mouth, fire on the roof
A leopard who killed a goat and bathed in her blood
A man who died at a market and woke up in a house.

Shango is a deity in the pantheon of the Yoruba people.