ours poetica
Sumita Chakraborty reads "Windows"
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Uploaded: | 2020-03-25 |
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Sumita Chakraborty reads her poem "Windows".
Sumita-
https://www.sumitachakraborty.com/
https://twitter.com/chakrabsumita
Brought to you by Complexly, The Poetry Foundation, and poet Paige Lewis. Learn more: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/
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Sumita-
https://www.sumitachakraborty.com/
https://twitter.com/chakrabsumita
Brought to you by Complexly, The Poetry Foundation, and poet Paige Lewis. Learn more: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/
11 issues of Poetry, subscribe today for $20: https://poetrymagazine.org/OursPoetica
Follow us elsewhere for the full Ours Poetica experience:
twitter.com/ourspoeticashow
instagram.com/ourspoeticashow
facebook.com/ourspoeticashow
#poetry #ourspoetica
My name is Sumita Chakraborty and I'm reading a poem called "Windows". I wrote this poem after the death of my sister in 2014 and it's with little disconnected fragments of some translations of some of (?~0:14) French poetry.
Windows
how much loss
gains suddenly an emphasiss
and brilliant sadness
far from that which lives and turns
languages
of our vain comings and goings wilt and gnaw
beat them, punish
them for having said and always said
tear out, finally, our spells
one life pours and grows impatient
for another life
and the lovers, look on them there,
immobile and frail
pinned like the butterflies
for the beauty of their wings
too great in the outdoors
like the lyre, you should be
rendered a constellation
like the scales or the lyre
an almost-name of the ages' absences
should I defend myself
am I not intact
one who loves is never beautiful
tender-strained
all hazards are abolished
at the middle of ove
with a little bit of space around it
where we are the masters
changeable like the sea
ice, sudden, where our face is mirrored
traversed
taste of freedom compromised
by the presence of fate
for whom would I wait
with this heart all full which loss completes
will I be found when the night abounds
given over to you, inexhaustible
climb! turn far and away
doubt
that you can give the excess which arrests me
the sky, immense example
of depth and height
make of the air a round arena
effort circumscribes
our life enormous
stretched toward the night
what
escaped
set out in type on the page
a little
image
vague
like the greyhounds
arranging their legs
the sense of our rites
waits
intent
who rushes, who tilts, who remains
after the abandonment of the night
starry avaricious
all the grand unbroken numbers
that the night will multiply
new celestial youth
the matutinal sky
buckles close
under the guise of tenderness
time uses his jacket
inconsolable space
turned me into wind,
placed me in the river
leaves fled...
I had drunk
all of my abyss
one must not tire
and eat with one's eyes
vision watered
profusely a garden of images
each bird whose flight crosses
my expanse
nothing but looking sees like life to me
nothing but looking seems like life
while the prunes ripen
o my eyes, eaters of roses
you will drink the moon
I consent
and I consent force
o force
does not frighten me anymore, because it cradles me
in the morning, small wild
become almost a mouth
all worn and bloodless
Be, stars, the rhymes
found at the ends of end
say enough
Windows
how much loss
gains suddenly an emphasiss
and brilliant sadness
far from that which lives and turns
languages
of our vain comings and goings wilt and gnaw
beat them, punish
them for having said and always said
tear out, finally, our spells
one life pours and grows impatient
for another life
and the lovers, look on them there,
immobile and frail
pinned like the butterflies
for the beauty of their wings
too great in the outdoors
like the lyre, you should be
rendered a constellation
like the scales or the lyre
an almost-name of the ages' absences
should I defend myself
am I not intact
one who loves is never beautiful
tender-strained
all hazards are abolished
at the middle of ove
with a little bit of space around it
where we are the masters
changeable like the sea
ice, sudden, where our face is mirrored
traversed
taste of freedom compromised
by the presence of fate
for whom would I wait
with this heart all full which loss completes
will I be found when the night abounds
given over to you, inexhaustible
climb! turn far and away
doubt
that you can give the excess which arrests me
the sky, immense example
of depth and height
make of the air a round arena
effort circumscribes
our life enormous
stretched toward the night
what
escaped
set out in type on the page
a little
image
vague
like the greyhounds
arranging their legs
the sense of our rites
waits
intent
who rushes, who tilts, who remains
after the abandonment of the night
starry avaricious
all the grand unbroken numbers
that the night will multiply
new celestial youth
the matutinal sky
buckles close
under the guise of tenderness
time uses his jacket
inconsolable space
turned me into wind,
placed me in the river
leaves fled...
I had drunk
all of my abyss
one must not tire
and eat with one's eyes
vision watered
profusely a garden of images
each bird whose flight crosses
my expanse
nothing but looking sees like life to me
nothing but looking seems like life
while the prunes ripen
o my eyes, eaters of roses
you will drink the moon
I consent
and I consent force
o force
does not frighten me anymore, because it cradles me
in the morning, small wild
become almost a mouth
all worn and bloodless
Be, stars, the rhymes
found at the ends of end
say enough