Yes, many great poets point out the realities of life. Some poets like Vayalar Ramavarma is one of my favorite.

Dear Lijo, could you share please, some little piece translated into English poetry of Vayalar Ramavarma ?

Dear Patrick, of course I agree with your interpretation of the influence of poetry, please share too, some of your favorite poems.

Dear Ahed, marvelously said.

Dear Ahed, oh yes, it is metabolite of science. Poetry is a subtle whisper and good nourishment for academics too.

I like reading and listening to poems. They ifeed our souls and inspire our spirits.

Dear All, please share your favorite pieces of poetry. I found accidentally a year ago, one of my present favorite poets, young American Tyler Knott Gregson who writes rather short forms.

Dear Shafig, these two are breath taking poems of Ahmed Chawki, so emotional (especially the love one). Thank you.

Dear Aftab, thank you for your poem. I like your sense of seeing things and your poetic sensitivity. You said beautifully, and I agree - poets are romantic and poetry indeed keeps us younger and makes us alive. I would add poets can see what others miss.

"Into my heart´s memory

I slipped a coin

That time cannot take

Nor thief purloin.

Oh better than the minting

Of a gold-crowned king

Is the safe-kept memory

Of a lovely thing."

-- Sara Teasdale.

This is my attitude towards poetry: it´s mine, and nobody can take it away from me (although like Abdalla, I could probably write a better one myself than the one I quoted here). In subsequent postings, I´ll share some of my favorite verse.

Dear Nelson, Thank you. I like the pulse and mysterious constructions of lines, of poem you shared.

Dear Beata,

Thank you for your fine question.

Poetry matters so much in my life, that from 1969 to 2005 I always made a practice of teaching it to university students. Finally, in February 2014, I published a book, "Lorca in Tune with Falla," on Federico García Lorca (1898-1936), one of the poets I most frequented, and the special connections between his verse and the music of his friend, the composer Manuel de Falla (1876-1946).

Beata, it does matter in my life. Nowadays I still enjoy reading poetry although seldom. When I was in the elementary level, I used to write poems ( tula in Filipino) for our school organ named The Flame. In high school I wrote 3 poems. I still enjoy reading Joyce Kilmer's Trees. Writing poems to me is as enjoyable as writing a research report. Ed

Dear Beata, I could not live without poetry. (In fact, several poems of mine have been published in various anthologies here and there).

I enjoy poetry in various languages - as many of us do, in fact.

One of my favorites poets in English is Sylvia Plath. A share with you her poem "Female Author" (four stanzas):

"All day she plays at chess with the bones of the world:

Favored (while suddenly the rains begin

Beyond the window) she lies on cushions curled

And nibbles an occasional bonbon of sin.

Prim, pink breasted, feminine, she nurses

Chocolate fancies in roe-papered rooms

Where polished highboys whisper creaking curses

And hothouse shed immoral blooms.

The garnets on her fingers twinkle quick

and blood reflects across the manuscript;

She muses on the odor, sweet and sick,

Of festering gardenias in a crypt,

And lost in subtle metaphor, retreats

From gray child faces crying in the streets"

Dear Carlos,

A beautiful poem by Plath, one of my favorite poets too! Could you share one of your own poems with us, or at least tell us how to locate them? If you are Colombian, then you must do credit to the memory of your countryman José Asunción Silva, whose "Nocturno" (Una noche) can obsess any reader.

Dear @Nelson, thank you I'll take look at your book.

Dear @Eddie, thank you for contribution, writing poetry is special gift in my opinion. I'm not so surprised, that scientists from RG, who share their comments on this topic, are writing own poems too, as Ahed, Aftab, Abdalla, Nelson and Carlos and you.

Dear @Carlos, well said. Living without poetry read or listened would be surely poorer.

Thank you for poem of S. Plath, I like her too.

I share link to English translations of poetry and poem of my Polish favorite poet - Halina Poswiatowska, She was writing of love, death, simple everyday events, in very ephemeral manner http://www.oldpoetry.com/Halina_Poswiatowska_poems

"In my barbaric tongue"

in my barbaric tongue

flowers are called flowers

and about air I say air

and stepping on the pavement bricks

with my heels I tap in

brick brick brick

and I say stone so softly

as if stone were velvet

and I bury my face in your neck

as if a cat's warm fur grew there

and I love

my barbaric tongue

and say: I love

Dear Nelson, I found English translation of "Nocturno" by Jose Asuncion Silva. I agree, with you.

"Nocturn"

One night, one night all filled with murmurings, with perfumes and the music of wings;

One night, when the fantastic fireflies (glowworms) glimmered in the warm and nuptial shadows,

slowly at my side, hugged close against me, mute and pale,

as if a premonition of infinite bitterness

stirred your fibers to their most secret depths,

you walked along the flowery path that crosses the plain;

and the full moon flashed its white light from the deep and infinite blue heavens;

and your shadow so fine and languid, and my shadow, projected by the rays of the moon on the sad sands of the path were joined;

and they were one, and they were one, and they were one single long shadow, and they were a single long shadow, and the were a single long shadow.

Tonight alone, my soul filled with the infinite bitterness and agony of your death,

separated from you by time, distance, and the tomb,

by the infinite blackness where our voice can never reach,

was walking mute and alone along the path...

One could hear the barking of the dogs at the moon, the pale moon, and the chirring of the frogs...

I felt cold. It was the cold of your cheeks, your brow and your adored hands in your room

upon the snowey whiteness of the mortuary sheets.

It was the cold of the sepulcur, the ice of death, the cold of nothingness.

And my shadow projected by the rays of the mon, walked alone, walked alone, walked alone across the solitary steppe;

and your shadow slender and agile, fine and languid,

as on that warm night of the dead springtime,

as on that night filled with murmurings, with perfumes and the music of wings;

came near and walked with it, came near and walked with it, came near and walked with it...

Oh, the shadows that are linked!

Oh the shadows of the bodies that are joined with the shadows of the souls!

Oh the shadows that are searching on the nights of sorrow and of tears!"

Link to original version http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsAV4ccipNU

Thanks, Beata, for sharing "One Night" in English. This is one poem, I fear, for which you need to hear the music of the original (as with all poetry). The poet is playing with the dark vowel sounds of the Spanish u and o resonated against the nasals m and n. Such play gives the poem an almost obsessive sound. Also the typographical disposition of the words on the page contribute to the obsessiveness. It´s a total poem, far ahead of its own time.

Dear Nelson, I think that even in English translation, this amazing mourning poem sounds obsessive. I never thought of the death as so obsessive state of poetic mind until now. However I know well, poems of Polish poet Jan Kochanowski (XVI), who wrote many touching threnodies after the death of his little daughter Urszula.

Of course poetry has a way of bringing the facts of life very refreshingly. Khayyam (A.D. 1044-1123) is best known to us today for his poetry in Urdu language. Translated into English

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise

To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;

One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;

The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

http://www.acole.com/novels/timuras/khayyam.html

Dear Kamal, Thank you very much for sharing concept of Protest Poetry, emphasizing the other important role of poetry. I just started to watch interesting video you attached.

Dear Patrick,

Without a doubt, religious poetry is some of the deepest and most beautiful. I never tire of rereading the Psalms-- and not only the songs of praise, but also those bordering on despair... "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?," etc. Just think of the importance of that question in the history of world religion.

Dear Kamal, you are right Ahmed Fouad Negm was a special poet, very simple with expression of words but powerful, as a poet of revolution in Egypt. Documentary movie showed me, that even every single word he spoke, was in poetic way. I adore such way of speaking. I noticed many warm words while he spoke, like caring father, about his daughter - perceived by him as a gentle lady, not military woman. I adore recorded his own style of welcoming the day, when he said many good mornings and "good morning God", looking through the window. Besides, in his poems I found many medical accents. He said he had many poems to write and I believe, he had. His poetry is, as he said, "waking up" poetry. Thank you. I'm really impressed.

Dear Patrick, Nelson is surely much better poetry teacher, than I. I have to say, that your way of speaking is close to poetry. I feel it and see it, you do not need a teacher. Please Patrick share your religious poems too, if you like.

Dear Nageswara, thank you nicely for sharing your poet and link to your favorite poetry.

Beata, what you said is true. You don´t have to be taught to speak poetry. In fact, sometimes being taught interferes with natural poetry.

Dear Ahed, yes indeed. There are many original and beautiful contributions to this topic I learned a lot of good things. Poetry really gives wings to fly.

Dear Beata, I love Poswiatowska. By andlarge, she is one of my favorite poets. (I have read many poems from hers in Spanish, French and English, for I am poor and naked concerning Polish).

Dear Nelson, I did not include any reference in Spanish here, out of respect for those friends who cannot read in Spanish. This afternoon I'll dare include a poem of mine. And I agree with you regarding Silva's fine taste: a fantastic poet, indeed!

Dear Carlos, I'm surprised and impressed you know Poswiatowska, I adore her poems. In Polish her poetry sounds more acoustic, as our language Polish is perceived as whispers sometimes.

Thank you very much dear Beata. Poswiatowska is one of the greatest poetesses of all times.

Now, I have a doubt to pay to Nelson. Dear Nelson this is one of my poems (published in Argentina). It is called: Hay verdades

Peores que puñales árabes

o navajas de malandros

hay verdades

que atraviesan el cuerpo

y el alma

y se clavan en la memoria

No estamos preparados

(nunca lo estamos)

ni las esperamos

Llegan de frente

no desde un lado

o de arriba

gratuitas como el aire

Asaltan la inocencia

y la espontaneidad

y nos hacen maduros

a la fuerza

Una ráfaga de luz

atraviesa el numen

el corazón o el intelecto

y se clava

honda

haciéndonos comprender

la esperanza

desde adentro

El juego de la vida y de la muerte

arcano sempiterno

Cyrano de Bergerac, Czech translation by Jaroslav Vrchlický. From the beginning to the end.

Dear Beata,

I like poetry, combined with musical accompaniment. I want to share with you my most favorite example on the link http://vk.com/video9427596_167380281

Boris Pasternak, "Snow is falling"

Snow is falling, falling down.

The geraniums are trying

To befriend the sparkles flying

Past the window’s woven bound.

Snow is falling, all’s in action,

Smitten, taking off the ground:

The black stairs, the intersection, -

All is being lost and found.

Snow is falling, falling down,

Yet it isn’t snowflakes floating:

In a torn and worn old coating

Sky’s descending to the ground,

As if, from the attic door,

Sky were coming down the stairs,

Hiding, sneaking, unawares,

Like the weirdo up one floor.

For our life won’t wait around.

Blink – and Christmas time is near,

But a few brief days – and here,

The New Year will come to town.

Snow is falling, dense as lace.

Keeping up, if fast or slow,

Marking the exact same pace,

Be it laziness or race,

Time itself, perhaps, can go.

Or the years may go around

Steadily as snow comes down,

Or as poem lyrics flow.

Snow is falling, falling down,

Falling down, and all’s confounded:

The pedestrian’s snowy gown,

Houseplants’ looking out astounded,

All is being lost and found.

***

Снег идет, снег идет.

К белым звездочкам в буране

Тянутся цветы герани

За оконный переплет.

Снег идет, и все в смятеньи,

Bсе пускается в полет,

Черной лестницы ступени,

Перекрестка поворот.

Снег идет, снег идет,

Словно падают не хлопья,

А в заплатанном салопе

Сходит наземь небосвод.

Словно с видом чудака,

С верхней лестничной площадки,

Крадучись, играя в прятки,

Сходит небо с чердака.

Потому что жизнь не ждет.

Не оглянешься и святки.

Только промежуток краткий,

Смотришь, там и новый год.

Снег идет, густой-густой.

В ногу с ним, стопами теми,

В том же темпе, с ленью той

Или с той же быстротой,

Может быть, проходит время?

Может быть, за годом год

Следуют, как снег идет,

Или как слова в поэме?

Снег идет, снег идет,

Снег идет, и все в смятеньи:

Убеленный пешеход,

Удивленные растенья,

Перекрестка поворот.

As a tribute to you, Carlos, I will translate your hard-hitting poem:

There Are Truths

Worse than Arabian daggers

Or knives of rapscallions

There are truths´

That pass through body

And soul

And stick in the memory.

We are not forewarned

(And we never are)

Nor do we expect them

They come at us directly

Not from one side

Or from above,

Free as the air.

They assault innocence

And spontaneity

And make us grow up

By force.

A gust of light

Passes through the numen

the heart or the mind

and nails us deeply

making us understand

hope

from the inside

The game of life and death

Eternal arcane

Dear Nelson, I am deeply moved by your generosity and translation! It is a pity we can only up-vote once. Truly, sincerely, I would vote you many, many times!

Thank you so much, indeed! Not to mention the beautiful translation. I owe you one, dear friend.

Dear Carlos,

Thank you for your generosity in sharing your unforgettably deep poem. The least I could do was translate it.

Dear @Gennady, thank you for link of Chopin's nocturne with beautiful poem of Boris Pasternak. While reading this one by Boris Pasternak, I'm thinking of his "Dr Zhivago" and absolutely fabulous winter, showed also in visual narrative - in the movie. There was also unforgettable music by Maurice Jarre (for ex. "Lara's theme")..

Dear @Carlos and Dear @Nelson, thank you for your great contribution as sharing your own poem Carlos and for making translation, Nelson, so we English speaking can admire it too.

14 February 2006. For Paola.

We do not remember all the moments

they were there.

We can not believe

that something will happen.

But, if you give us courage.

We look over.

A thousand flowers worthy of being watched,

smell, touch and with a little 'of violence

brought with us.

Almost certainly wither.

And maybe we do not remember

tenderness.

But other springs, and we in them.

Nice@Maurizio!

Dear All,

Poetry is art! Without art life cannot be what it should be! Poems can be compared with music but music impacts us maybe more directly.

I am glad so many people give evidence of poetry, of art!

I repeat again this means that there is still hope for this commercialised world of nihilism!

Thank you!

Dear All,

Here you can read the eternal desire of a poet in the verse of Endre Ady translated by myself:

Szeretném, ha szeretnének

Sem utódja, sem boldog őse,

Sem rokona, sem ismerőse

Nem vagyok senkinek,

Nem vagyok senkinek

Vagyok: mint minden ember: fenség,

Észak-fok, titok, idegenség,

Lidérces, messze fény

Lidérces, messze fény

De, jaj, nem tudok így maradni,

Szeretném magam megmutatni

Hogy látva lássanak,

Hogy látva lássanak

Ezért minden: önkínzás, ének:

Szeretném, hogyha szeretnének,

S lennék valakié

Lennék valakié

I would like to be loved

Either happy ancestor or descendent,

Either relative or acquaintance,

I am of nobody

I am of nobody

I am as each of the people: majesty,

The North pole, strangeness, secrecy,

Nightmarish, distant light,

Nightmarish, distant light

But, oh, I cannot stay like that,

I would like to show myself,

To be seen really,

To be seen really

That is why all: self-pain, song:

I would like to be loved,

And I would belong to somebody

I would belong to somebody

Dear friends, we live in the age of information and knowledge as it has been generally called ("information society", "knowledge society"). And yet, one thing is clear At leats to the participants of this forum): poetry can make a difference, too.

The fate of mankind might depend on beter and more knowledge - technology, science, reearch, etc. However, the fate of mankind is not possible without poetry.

Let us all remember that at the botttom of everything, wisdom seems to talk to us in the language of poetry.

Dear All thank you for yesterday and today contribution.

Dear @Maurizio, thank you for tenderness in speaking of love in poem For Paola.

Dear @Andras, I agree with you, poetry is needed on RG, and many of scientists enjoy it or even write poems. Thank you for your translated nice love poem.

Dear @Carlos, I agree with your conclusions completely. I also think than language of poetry is excellent way to express us , as human beings. Thank you.

András,

What a sad, lonely poem! Its nakedness and disconsolate expression form its beauty. Thank you for translating it.

Dear Nelson,

Thanks for your lines. Endre Ady is one of our greatest poets. No, I risk to say, he is our greatest poet.

Dear Nelson,

I have found an English translation of this poem which has not translated during half an hour. Unfortunately, I have not found the name of the translator.

Longing For Love

Neither the issue nor the sire,

neither fulfilment nor desire

am I for anyone,

am I for anyone.

I am as all men, the sunless sea,

the alien thule, mystery,

a fleeing wisp of light,

a fleeing wisp of light.

But I must look for friends and brothers;

I want to show myself to others

that seeing they will see,

that seeing they will see.

For this my lyric masochism;

I long to close the gaping schism,

and thus belong somewhere,

and thus belong somewhere.

Btw, do you know poetry based on Cimrman's sound constant? If poetry is needed in RG, Cimrman's sound constant offers easy way how to start it even for those who are less skilled in language usage (as I am). Application of this constant into learning process is greenfield not even exploited by Cimrman (rhytmical, and thus more easier memorable forms).

Colombian poet José Asunción Silva said what Aftab recited better: tell me if you like this poem, Aftab. The English translation is mine, with apologies:

Estrellas que entre lo sombrio/ Stars which in the shadows

Estrellas que entre lo sombrío,/ Stars which in the shadows

de lo ignorado y de lo inmenso,/ Of the unknown and the immense

asemejáis en el vacío, / Resemble in the void

jirones pálidos de incienso, / Pale wisps of incense.

nebulosas que ardéis tan lejos/ Nebuli that burn so faraway

en el infinito que aterra / In the infinite that gives fright

que sólo alcanzan los reflejos / That there only reach the earth

de vuestra luz hasta la tierra, / Reflections of your light.

astros que en abismos ignotos/ Stars that in unknown abysses

derramáis resplandores vagos,/ Shed your vaguest glimmers.

constelaciones que en remotos / Constellations that in remote

tiempos adoraron los Magos, / Times were adored by wisemen.

millones de mundos lejanos,/ Millions of distant worlds,

flores de fantástico broche, / Flowers of a brooch so bright,

islas claras en los oceanos, / Clear islands in the oceans

sin fin, ni fondo de la noche, / Without end or bottom of the night.

¡estrellas, luces pensativas! / Stars, pensive lights!

¡estrellas, pupilas inciertas! / Stars, uncertain eyes!

¿Por qué os calláis si estáis vivas / Why so silent if alive,

y por que alumbráis si estáis muertas?... / Why if dead do you give light?

Lee todo en: Estrellas que entre lo sombrío - Poemas de José Asunción Silva http://www.poemas-del-alma.com/jose-asuncion-silva-estrellas-que-entre-lo-sombrio.htm#ixzz2zeY8pvo0

Dear Nelson, you already know this (hence I must apologize): your culture about Spanish and Latin-American culture is awesome. I've noticed this along the various forums we both happen to participate in TG. Chapeau!

Thanks, Carlos. I only know a little of the good poetry written in the Spanish language (including the poem you wrote).

A beautiful statement, Pat.

Some of the most relevant Cuban poets:

José Martí, Cintio Vitier, Nicolás Guillén, Carilda Oliver Labra, José Lezama Lima, Dulce María Loynaz, Julián del Casal, Félix B. Caignet.

Dear All, thank you for fabulous contribution.

Dear @Andras, thank you again for the poem.

Dear @Nelson, I feel mystery and eternity in poem you translated. Thank you.nicely.

Dear @Pat, thank you for your beautiful metaphors and the poem. Yes, I agree with you "poetry is lik glass of water". Allows us to immerse our mouth in our thirsty of beauty, love and harmony, souls. Poetry matters, and you are right - for better understanding self and the world around.

Dear @Rolando thank you very much for inspiring comment. It is good to know new names of poets.

I would like to share today poem of one of my favorite poets Edward Estlin Cummings, an American poet. Enjoy this "Somwhere I have never been travelled" beautifully recited by Mark Coleman.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66fUNBpk4ls

Dear Nelson,

I liked the original poem and your translation as well. Both expressed the distinctive poetic atmosphere. Thanks. It was interesting to see that the determining adjectives and nouns of both languages are the same – at least in this particular case.

Dear Patricia,

Thanks for your verse. Unfortunately, old boys and girls throw away not only their toys but even future opportunities of their life because they cannot recognise the right way.

Rolando, of all the poets that you named, the Cuban martyr José Martí is my favorite. Although I love the verses devoted to his baby son, Ismaelillo, the exotic music of "In the strange bazaar" from "Versos sencillos" (Simple Verses) obsesses me on sleepless nights like tonight, but I can´t tell you why: maybe it´s because it deals, as András says, with opportunities tossed carelessly away.

EN EL EXTRAÑO BAZAR... (In the Strange Bazaar)

En el extraño bazar/ In the strange bazaar

Del amor, junto a la mar,/ Of love beside the sea,

La perla triste y sin par/ The sad and peerless pearl

Le tocó por suerte a Agar./ Became Hagar´s legacy.

Agar, de tanto tenerla/ Hagar, from so much holding

Al pecho, de tanto verla/ And seeing that fine pearl,

Agar, llegó a aborrecerla:/ Abhorred it, pounded it

Majó, tiró al mar la perla. And seaward did it hurl.

Y cuando Agar, venenosa/ And when Hagar, envenomed

De inútil furia, y llorosa,/ By rage and teary-eyed,

Pidió al mar la perla hermosa,/ Begged the sea for the pretty pearl,

Dijo la mar borrascosa:/ Stormy, the sea replied,

"¿Qué hiciste, torpe, qué hiciste/ "What did you do, clumsy girl,

De la perla que tuviste?/ When that pearl was all yours?

La majaste, me la diste:/ You pounded it and hurled it:

Yo guardo la perla triste"./ Its mine forever more."

Dear Nelson, dark and beautiful feelings are there. Thank you.

Dear Beata, my translation did not do it justice. It has an obsessive rhyme scheme, aaaa, bbbb, cccc, dddd. This makes it even darker and more mysterious. Martí´s wife left him, and he may be complaining that she spurned his love. But it doesn´t matter what the pearl symbolizes, because the poem is so enigmatic.

Dear Nelson, oh yes, mysterious and dark in form too. Thank you once again for the translation.

José Julián Martí Pérez (January 28, 1853 – May 19, 1895) is a Cuban national hero and an important figure in Latin American literature. In his short life he was a poet, an essayist, a journalist, a revolutionary philosopher, atranslator, a professor, a publisher, and a political theorist. He was also a part of the Cuban Freemasons. Through his writings and political activity, he became a symbol for Cuba's bid for independence against Spain in the 19th century, and is referred to as the "Apostle of Cuban Independence.

Born in Havana, Martí began his political activism at an early age. He would travel extensively in Spain, Latin America, and the United States, raising awareness and support for the cause of Cuban independence.

Martí is considered one of the great turn-of-the-century Latin American intellectuals. His written works consist of a series of poems, essays, letters, lectures, a novel, and even a children's magazine. He wrote for numerous Latin American and American newspapers; he also founded a number of newspapers himself. His newspaper Patria was a key instrument in his campaign for Cuban independence. After his death, one of his poems from the book, "Versos Sencillos" (Simple Verses) was adapted to the song "Guantanamera", which has become the definitive patriotic song of Cuba.

Martí’s writings reflected his own views both socially and politically. “Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca” is one of his poems that emphasize his views in hopes of betterment for society:

I cultivate a white rose

In July as in January

For the sincere friend

Who gives me his hand frankly

And for the cruel person who tears

out the heart with which I live,

I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns:

I cultivate a white rose

Rolando, Martí is indeed a great poet of international stature. The Spanish philosopher/poet Miguel de Unamuno (1864-1936) modeled his most beloved novelistic character, the non-believing priest Manuel Bueno, after Martí himself, as reflected in Martí´s private correspondence, which I examined in Unamuno´s personal library in Salamanca (Spain).

I would be remiss if I did not quote from the poetry of Unamuno himself, whom my thesis director Juan López-Morillas deemed the greatest twentieth-century Spanish poet. Here are the first ten lines of an untitled ballad showing Unamuno´s obsession with individual immortality, with life after death: "With memories of hopes/ And hopes of memories/ We keep on killing life/ and giving life to these/ eternally neglected/ --forgotten?-- cares of dying.../ The future fled again,/ The past will come back flying,/ tomorrow and yesterday/ mix now and pass away."

Dear @Rolando and Dear @Nelson, thank you both for contribution. Metaphor of white rose is touching and somehow Christian, even spoken by revolutionist. Maybe this is paradox, needing deeper reflection ? Dear @Nelson, your verses full of dark emotions are nicely obsessive. This word is often present in your understandings of things, or maybe I'm wrong ? I think this adjective is appropriate for poetic minds speaking of and with passions. Maybe so meant obsessions are good topic for other discussions ?

What a delightful question!. Indeed poetry is important in my life. It is the music of language that transcends all emotions. Especially Arabic poetry, it is marvellous and touches the innermost layers of your soul. To get a feel of arabic poetry, May I recommend you read Khalil Gibran. He is widely available on the internet, and in English.

Dear Mohamed, thank you nicely, I'll find poet you recommend.

Dear Mohamed,

In my youth I courted women by giving them copies of Arab poetry: the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Apparently he appealed to their sensitivity.

Carilda Oliver Labra is a Cuban poet who was born in Matanzas in 1924.

Known as one of the most influential Cuban poets, her work has focused on love, the role of women in society, and herself. Oliver Labra has received numerous national and international prizes including the National Poetry Prize (1950), National Literature Award (1997) and the José de Vasconcelos International Prize (2002). Me desordeno, amor, me desordeno might be her most famous poem. Other works such as Discurso de Eva ("Eve's Discourse") also show a profound literary technique. Her debut collection in 1943, Lyric Prelude (Preludio lirico) immediately established her as an important poetic voice. At the South of My Throat made her famous: the coveted National Prize for poetry came to her in 1950 as a result of the popular and notorious book, At the South of My Throat (Al sur de mi garganta) 1949. In honor of the tri-centennial of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz in a contest sponsored by The Latin American Society in Washington D.C., in 1950, she had also received the national Cuban First Prize for her poems. Her work was highly praised by Gabriela Mistral, the Chilean poet and first Latin American woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1945. In 1958, Labra published Feverish memory (Memoria de la fiebre) which added to her notoriety as a blatantly erotic woman. The book concerned a theme which has dominated her poetry, which of lost love, as it was written after the unfortunate and untimely death of her second husband.

Again I am grateful to you, Rolando, for educating us on fine Cuban poetry.

There is, indeed, a fact: where as science - as we know it - is essentially a western phenomenon, poetry is a universal feature.

Let me please push the argument a bit farther: all great scientist are somehow included in the greatest poetry. However, all great poets - and poetesses - are not included in the history of science or philosophy. The most fundamental concepts of science are included somehow in poetry, too.

In very basic set theory terms, this means that poetry is a larger (and in my view deeper) set than sheer science and philosophy.

Would you agree with that? In case some of us don't I can provide several examples.

Dear Nelson,

I have translated the José Martí verse too:

In the bizarre market

In the bizarre market

of love, by the sea,

A sad and matchless pearl

got by chance to a girl.

The girl proudly kept it,

at first merrily saw it

then abhorred and upset;

the pearl flew in the sea’s depth.

And when the girl, so mad

In useless fury and so sad,

Asked the sea for the pearl meekly,

The fiery sea replied wildly:

"What did you do, gawky girl?

Do you want again the pearl?

You hurt and gave it to me,

You never ever will it see!"

Unfortunately, the Saint Jose Marti', the Good.pdf cannot be opened!

Dear András,

Your translation is preferable to mine, which is too steeped in literary references and less spontaneous. I felt that Martí´s poem referred to the biblical Hagar (Agar in Spanish), but by removing her name, you make her more universal. Congratulations to Beata Borowska-Beszta for her fine question, because she generates not only consideration of poetry in our lives as mere readings, but also as multiple possible translations.

If you give me your email address, András, I will send you the article on Saint José Martí, the Good, which is on-line anyhow.

Dear Carlos, Pat, Andras and Nelson, thank you for contribution. I appreciate it and enjoy it too. Seems poetry is kind of important value of our lives.

Dear Nelson,

Thanks for your lines. I have studied Spanish as a student about 30 years ago. I can speak it but at a very elementary level though reading is much easier. Generally, I used to translate from French, German and English to Hungarian. I am very glad I have found you, a literary gentleman who is fond of belles-lettres. It is a rarity. I will send you my e-mail address soon.

As to the name Hagar, I changed it because of a technical reason: it is difficult to find a rhyme to it.

Dear András,

did you ever read poems of Gottfried Benn. If you forget the later political behaviour of him, his poetry is highly impressing. I only know them in the very imposing language of his early years and I love them.

Thank you very much Pat. Lovely personal story, indeed. Sort of life made as poetry.

Dear Pat, I'll do it in three steps. First, let me mention some of the poets that have written about science and scientists. Later on I shall mention some examples of their poems - stanzas, etc.

From antiquity to-date, we have, among many others: Lucretius, Manilius, Dante Alighieri, T. S. Eliot, Beaudelaire, Nezval, W. Auden, Enzenberg, R. Hoffman, A. Voznesenski, E. Cardenal, F. García Lorca.

Browsing their poems will bring us good poetry mixed with a sensible approach to science and knowledge.

Poetry relishes to my life. I can't specify any specific poem or specific poet as such but listening to poetry and that also from a poet, is a matter of great joy!

I have attained 2-3 such sessions and I found myself swimming in the river of their poetry.

Regards,

Nitish

Dear Carlos, Pat and Nitish, thank you very much for sharing your inspiring thoughts.

Dear Nitish beautifully said of river of poetry.

Friday evening, it is almost weekend. Maybe some of you are spending it in Paris ?

I would like to share a poem "In Paris with You" by James Fenton, an English poet.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpqIf4vwGhM

What to start with? Greeting!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BA70QVA2pw4

Dear Tomy, thank you for lovely song. Btw. I like a lot Jaromir Nohavica too, your Czech singing poet.

Dear Aftab,

Why scientist may be scared on RG ? I'm not scared at all.

Colleagues whose account were suspended, got warning messages from the RG staff. I knew this from Patrick Low.

I'm also curious why some accounts were suspended, but I suppose the backgruond is somehow close to discrimination of any sort, copyrights and epistemologies.

Answering your other question I would like to say, we do have research orientation (having different research paradigms and methodologies behind us).

If this is just chatting ? Sometimes yes, during leisure. But such chats can be much revealing too, similar as FTF chats with artists.

Think, Aftab: we researchers lived before we created accounts on RG and we will survive after we tire of it. Now, WHY Patrick´s and Lijo´s accounts were suspended lies beyond my comprehension. What transgression did they commit? To me, both projected an attitude of innocence and even naïvétè. Would it be worthwhile asking the question of the RG administrators even at the risk of the suspension of our own accounts? Probably.

Dear Nelson, You are right about RG and us. We lived before we'll live after. RG is like one of networks with some options. Btw. I wrote today to Patrick via LinkedIn, asking for his decision, if he wants any action from me to regain his account. I'm waiting.

Dear Beata,

I would have regretted missing the opportunity to meet you and enjoy your intelligence and sensitivity, and I would surely miss them if I were expelled from RG. But they were a blessing which I did not deserve when I first entered RG, and I would be no more deserving of them if my account were suddenly suspended.

Dear Nelson, you are right again highlighting humanistic and emotional aspect of our particiaption on RG. Of course we can speak enjoying our encounters and learn, as I from you. So it's true, what anthropologists say about rapport evolution in the field for ex. RG and emotional involvement of us participants in encounters and dialogues.

Dear Nelson thank you for constant inspirations, since Hesiod.

I just saw Patrick is active on LinkedIn, Debi is there too. Maybe his and Lijo's suspention were just temporary ?