Saturday, December 7, 2013

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Tiger.





Louis Shalako









You may wonder why I walk this way

You may ask why I sit this way

How come you never walk a straight path?

You may ask

Why are you so quiet?

You ask

Where did you learn to listen that way?

And why are your eyes so strange?

You may well ask

I am a tiger

A lean and hungry tiger

A wet, cold tiger

A lonely tiger

One with no home range

A tiger has no friends

Only enemies and prey

I’m a very tired tiger

Yet I cannot sleep

My ears will hear the wind in the trees

And in the darkest hour of night

I will arise and move on again

I am a tiger

Sometimes it’s hard being a tiger

Sometimes I want to weep, but don’t

‘Cause I’m a tiger

I guess that saying I’m a tiger is to say

I’m always hungry, always alert

Always watching

Listening and smelling

Waiting

For you.


  


Park Bench.















Louis Shalako




公園のベンチルイ b. シャラコによって

公園のベンチに座っています。

本当に多くを行う

座っているし、しばらくの間と思う考えた

その時はあなたを見た

私がロビンをさっと

助けることができなかったが、笑顔

私たちの目も、本当にロック

すべての中の互いに

葉に落ちて来たと

すべて私の耳の周り

私の心に再びスピン始めた

すべての年を通じて

私を思い出すことを知っています。

あなたを覚えて

それはもう一度会えて良かった

ブルーを感じていた原因

あなたの夫が探している私を見た

彼は私の目にとまったとき

彼はのような奇妙な探していた

私は本当にわからない理由

あなたの両方が私の過去行った

単語を言わなかった

ちょうど私の自身のビジネスを気に

鳥を見て

何も言ったまたは完了するには

あなた大丈夫だを見ることができます。

すべてのそれらの狂気の感情

本当に決して去っていきました

今では私は古い得ています。

それは大きな間違いだった

私は決して実際に償うことができます。

それは単にあまりにも遅

思い出をありがとう

彼らはすべての私は本当に

あなたはまだ若いと美しい

私はちょうど酔った古い酔いどれ

それが私の愛するもう一つのチャンスがあった

それを行うにすべての再度

私は正直わからない、私の小さな一

場合は、1 つのものを変更できます。

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Original
Sitting on a park bench
Sitting on a park bench

Not really much to do      

Thought I’d sit and think awhile

And that’s when I saw you

Robin skittered by me

Couldn’t help but smile

Our eyes well and truly locked

On each other all the while

And as the leaves came falling down

All around my ears

My mind began to spin again

Back through all the years

I know that you remember me

And I remember you

It’s good to see you once again

‘Cause I was feeling blue

Your husband saw me looking

And when he caught my eye

He was looking kind of strangely

I really don’t know why

As you both went past me

You never said a word

Just minding my own business

And looking at the birds

Nothing to be said or done

I can see that you’re okay

All those crazy feelings

Never really went away

Now that I am getting old

It was a big mistake

I never really can atone

It’s simply way too late

Thank you for the memories

They’re all I’ve really got

You’re still young and beautiful

I’m just a drunken old sot

But it I had another chance my dear

To do it all again

I honestly don’t know, my little one

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Original
Sitting on a park bench
If I could change a single thing.




Unterseeboot

Agusto Ferrer-Dalmau (Wiki.)




















Louis Shalako














The icy green Atlantic

Foams over the hull

The fore-and-aft cable

Disappears

Periscope now useless

As we go below

I flip up the handles

Retract our only eye

Faster than the boat

My guts are sinking

To the men I cannot show

My courage is a lie

All of us will die

A thousand times this trip

And we’ve killed a thousand men

Although it sounds rather flip—

We must do our duty

Stupid as it seems

To obey the whims of our superiors

And to go to our deaths—

In submarines.




Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Change Is Good.

Stephen Ho, martial arts kick, from image by NickP. (Wiki.)













by Louis Shalako




People have a lot more freedom these days

The only problem is,

We’re going to use it

It’s no longer possible

For you to drag us down

Down to some tribunal of the elders

You cannot brand us

And burn us at the stake

You think everything should be carved in stone

Nothing is carved in stone: not even this.

Things must never change?

You say change is bad

I say change is good

Let it be clearly understood:

We know you will try to stop things

And try to slow them down

We’re just doing what is right

Living free, thinking for ourselves

Laughing at all of your trophies, up there on their golden shelf

We live wild, by the forks of the river

This is our home

This is not your tree

Take away your chainsaw

Your sirens and your gallows

And go home, to live in your house of glass

This thing that has come between us—

Oh how it rattles your chain—

It is these things that bind you

They are yours, for you cherish them so.