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sonnets

Seven translations of Maffeo Barberini’s ‘Sonetto XXXII’ (Qui m’assido pensoso in questo sasso) by Eric T Racher

1.
Stone is tone sat, shone sibboleth, antic serve antique
observe quiescence essence deliquescence whence
as just majesty or jest, Rome. Adjust fallen sigh stupor
brain aspic apical outward placid not much. Acid
esteem unsated teeming, for that although also, can
vain humane vanity admired humanity mired option
self enraged and assuage, turn. Bound unto found
object object prime self lowered mind loured petite.
Alms of psalm, sole incarnadine, hoary before turn
whore not then prey custom, give. Penitent pen it
in prayer custom unsaid repent end to end, soul.
Wretched ashen etched in deceit do, dawn stir fall
rare jewel out impending whom, who; fault line twine
twin fault win turn in time or afterthought fit flee.

2.
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mmmmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnn
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ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
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uuuuuuuuvvvvvvvz,,,,,,,,,,,,...’’’’’’’

3.
Quim, ass, seed—open! So-so inquest, O, sass! O!
Idyll antic car, O Maat! Err! A mere O.
Llamaest, a cad. Hoot. (& he’s sus.) Peer, O!
Ape wrestled a stupor. None, mofo. I’ll pass. O,
none sat Z, O deepen czar-anchor. Kayla’s so.
Lovin’ it. Ah! Delu, man. Fast! Tome mirror.
Idyll me, O van, edging me. Cum! Ah, dear!—O!
A purely-meant, a villagette, a bus—O!
All maudy, prick, I miss ’im. Be! Ankh? Eel? Cree? Nay.
Ski? Evil costume? Dick? Whey? Casey? Dan?—O!
Imp-ray? Dolls? Sense? O, perp & tears. Seal? Fee? Nay.
Me sir! O, key! Trouble Cain. Tallin gone, no?
Ra? Dough? Eh? Kettle more eerie. Insult confit. Nay.
See raw Vega, deaf alley—foo! Golden, no?

4.
lexicon = [ ‘abbasso’, ‘adiro’, ‘alma’, ‘al’, ‘ammiro’, ‘ancorché’, ‘antica’, ‘assido’, ‘a’, ‘caduta’, ‘che’, ‘chi’, ‘confine’, ‘costume’, ‘crine’, ‘danno’, ‘danno’, ‘da’, ‘deh’, ‘dell’’, ‘del’, ‘de’’, ‘di’, ‘e’, ‘è’, ‘falli’, ‘fasto’, ‘fine’, ‘fugga’, ‘il’, ‘imbianchi’, ‘inganno’, ‘in’, ‘lasso’, ‘la’, ‘maestà’, ‘meco’, ‘mente’, ‘mio’, ‘miro’, ‘misero’, ‘mi’, ‘morire’, ‘muovo’, ‘m’’, ‘ne’, ‘non’, ‘oggetto’, ‘passo’, ‘pensar’, ‘pensoso’, ‘pentirsi’, ‘per’, ‘preda’, ‘preso’, ‘pria’, ‘pur’, ‘quei’, ‘questo’, ‘qui’, ‘rado’, ‘ravvegga’, ‘roma’, ‘sasso’, ‘sazio’, ‘schiva’, ‘senso’, ‘si’, ‘sospiro’, ‘stupor’, ‘sul’, ‘s’’, ‘tal’, ‘terra’, ‘trabocca’, ‘uman’, ‘vaneggiar’, ‘vanità’, ‘vil’ ]

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5.
All pensive on this rock I sit
and watch an empire gone to shit—
cracked columns, bricks & broken blocks,
like cat turds in a litterbox.
My weary mind can only see
the pomp of human vanity,
and though I find it rather crass,
I too’m a vain and pompous ass.
I beg you, soul—it’s getting late—
do not be like the profligate,
whose life on worldly pleasure’s spent,
deferring when he should repent,
for when death’s door such blind men gain
they rarely rue and flee the pain.

6.
From: Satya Nadella
Sent: Tuesday, July 03, 2024 5:33 AM
To: Microsoft – All Employees; All MS Store Employees FTE
Subject: Reflection on the Impermanence of Success

Team,

I find myself contemplating the fleeting nature of worldly pursuits. While we strive for success and recognition, it is important to remember that these achievements are ultimately transient. History is replete with examples of empires that have crumbled, leaving behind only remnants of their former glory.

The pursuit of material wealth and fleeting pleasures can often distract us from what truly matters. It is essential to cultivate a sense of perspective and to prioritize enduring values over ephemeral ones.

As we navigate the complexities of life, let us strive to live with purpose and meaning. May we find solace in the pursuit of knowledge, compassion, and the betterment of ourselves and our communities.

Sincerely,
Satya

7.
Escape the Flames: Your Roman Sanctuary Awaits

Imagine yourself, seated upon a stone terrace, overlooking the timeless beauty of Rome. The ancient city unfolds before you, a tapestry of history woven into the very fabric of the earth. Lost in thought, you witness the ruins of Rome, her fallen majesty, and linger in a stupor most profound. But this is no melancholic reverie. This is the beginning of your new life, a life free from the pomp of human vanity and the beguiling claims of the mundane.

Here, in our exclusive condominium, you can finally shun the ways of the man who only aims at worldly bliss. Repenting on death’s day is a fate you can avoid. Come, my soul, before your hair turns grey, and embrace a life of tranquility and sophistication.

Our meticulously restored residences offer a haven of peace and luxury, nestled amidst the heart of Rome’s vibrant history. Rare it is, when held in death’s fell sway, to see one's own mistake, and flee the flames. But here, you can escape the flames of worldly distractions and embrace the true treasures of life.

Don’t let your dreams run aground on base things. Come, discover your own Roman sanctuary. Contact us today to learn more about our exclusive condominium offerings.

Eric T Racher lives in Riga, Latvia. His poetry, essays and fiction
have appeared in Socrates on the Beach, minor literature[s], Exacting Clam,
Your Impossible Voice, Literary Imagination, Keep Planning, ballast & elsewhere. 
Bluesky @ericracher.bsky.social

Womannotated – Holding Pond

October 7, 2020

Holding Pond


Kristin Garth

Gills desiccating, you glide through his house,

hair towel dried, Oxford shirt, slouched, secured 

with belt made oversized dress — yours doused

in his tank, under duress. Damp, demure

while you saunter down bifurcated stairs,

some guests the servants were unaware, out

his front door then driveway, street. Unprepared —

Continue reading “Womannotated – Holding Pond”

Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare

November 1, 2020

Texting Shakespeare

On the side of a road atop a stump

you seem cinched in by sunshine while you are 

slumped over a cellphone screen, bare goosebumped 

décolleté.  You ignore the people, cars.

You have something to say.  Instrumental 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare”

Womannotated – Dead Sea

Dead Sea 

Saunter through snapdragons, the cobblestone path

inside his house, into a bath prepared 

with Dead Sea salts by a sociopath— 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Dead Sea”

Womannotated – Underwater Sonnets

September 12th, 2020

Continue reading “Womannotated – Underwater Sonnets”

Womannotated – Crow Castle

August 9th, 2020

Crow Castle

Each maiden slumbers in her childhood bed.

Crow collects a lock from each, twines a nest

with garden twigs, hair ribbons azure, red—

sufficient room for one without a guest. Continue reading “Womannotated – Crow Castle”

Womannotated – Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory

July 26th, 2020

Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory

After a reveal of cotton candy sheep being
shorn for confectionery purposes in the
Burton Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film:
Willy Wonka – “I’d rather not talk about this one.”

You peer a possible pasture in a
pink corridor.  Perhaps peeking proves it?
Perchance a perpendicular door plays
with peripheral vision, pomegranate
sheep producing shorn candy floss piles pruned
to palatable heaps?  Panicked to peep
Continue reading “Womannotated – Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory”

Womannotated – Hot Chocolate!

Two Golden Tickets sonnets (my Charlie and The Chocolate Factory homage book of poems) from the Hot Chocolate section which involves chocolatier love triangles, femme fatale industrial spies, strip clubs and licorice .

Sugar Daddy’s

A strip club in which Arthur Slugworth, chocolatier competitor of Willy Wonka, meets the woman who will become his secretary and industrial spy and future lover of Willy Wonka.

American Candy Expo meets in
Chicago each year. Arthur Slugworth’s jet
consistently appears before show begins
day early to play. Bittersweet secrets
over his butterscotch schnapps confessed
to the ponytailed stripper; her peach ring
pop, bubblegum thong, sweet visage suggests
she is a shell you could tell anything Continue reading “Womannotated – Hot Chocolate!”

Introducing ‘womannotated’ – a new monthly poetry column from Kristin Garth – every Friday – starting today

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