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Tȟašúŋke Witkó

Crazy Horse hold no speech

and did not know the word lie

He was murdered by blue coats in an ambush,

when he had already laid down his arms

was murdered by a society

that raved about equality and the right to success

No one knows where he is buried

(Bruno K. Öijer: Och Natten Viskade Annabel Lee)

 

Thoughts, meanings and experiences of a spatiotemporal traveler who has been on the road since 1970s: Starting with student movements, challenging Shah of Iran’s regime, then fighting against Khomeini’s Islamism and sailing or swimming with the proletarian political milieu against the objective reality of the current …

On Living

This earth will grow cold,

a star among stars

and one of the smallest,

a gilded mote on blue velvet–

I mean this, our great earth.

This earth will grow cold one day,

not like a block of ice

or a dead cloud even

but like an empty walnut it will roll along

in pitch-black space . . .

You must grieve for this right now

–you have to feel this sorrow now–

for the world must be loved this much

if you’re going to say “I lived” …

(Poems of Nazim Hikmet: Translated from Turkish by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk)

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