Monday, September 30, 2019

The Year Ahead / L'année à venir / El año que viene

May the year ahead be
sweet as honey,
earthy as apples,
and full of peace.

Que l'année à venir soit
aussi doux que le miel,
terreux comme des pommes,
et plein de paix.

Que el año que viene sea
dulce como la miel,
terroso como manzanas,
y lleno de paz






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

I Still Drink Ma-te Every Day / Je bois encore mate tous les jours / Todavía tomo mate todos los días

I still drink ma-te every day,
but Uruguay has gone away.
If my homeland comes unglued,
I shall want my white and blue.

Je bois encore mate tous les jours,
mais l'Uruguay est parti.
Si ma patrie devient décollée,
Je voudrai mon blanc et bleu.

Todavía tomo mate todos los días,
pero el Uruguay ya se fue.
Si mi tierra natal se despegue,
Voy a querer mi blanco y azul.







Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Sunday, September 29, 2019

There Is a Library of Spirits / Il y a une bibliothèque d'esprits

There is a library of spirits
that can be accessed at need
or when strongly desired.
They (we) are connected
by filaments of love,
which cannot be broken.

Il y a une bibliothèque d'esprits
qui peut être consulté au besoin
ou quand fortement désiré.
Ils sont (nous sommes) connectés
par des filaments d'amour,
qui ne peuvent pas être brisés.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Saturday, September 28, 2019

68,000 Visits from Six Continents / 68 000 visites de six continents

Today we are passing the milestone of 68,000 visits to this poetry blog. When I started the blog, almost three years ago, I would have expected perhaps one-tenth of the response that we are seeing. Those who believe that people do not read poetry are clearly wrong. The visits have come from more than a hundred countries, representing every continent except Antarctica. Perhaps we'll get that one too, if there is a poetry-lover among the handful of scientists stationed there.

Some of you will have noticed that many of my poems are now accompanied by French translations. I've done this for two reasons: 1) The entries in this blog are being carried by a blog-of-blogs in France (Chou Genou Caillou), and it seems right to facilitate understanding for those readers; and 2) I've come to realize that French is one of the best translation vehicles for my poetry, due to the many Old French words imported into English after 1066 and added to the Latin-based vocabulary that was already there.

If you came for the poetry, I hope you'll stay for a little prose, and what I hope is some excellent photography.

As always, thank you for your continued interest and enthusiasm. Merci. Wadó ꮹꮩ.


The photograph below was taken today, a few days after my seventy-seventh birthday.


Nous franchissons aujourd'hui le cap des 68 000 visites sur ce blog de poésie. Quand j'ai commencé le blog, il y a presque trois ans, je m'attendais peut-être à un dixième de la réponse à laquelle nous assistons. Ceux qui croient que les gens ne lisent pas de poésie ont clairement tort. Les visites sont venues de plus d'une centaine de pays, représentant tous les continents sauf l'Antarctique. Nous aurons peut-être aussi celui-là, s'il y a un amoureux de la poésie parmi la poignée de scientifiques en poste ici.

Certains d'entre vous auront remarqué que beaucoup de mes poèmes sont maintenant accompagnés de traductions françaises. Je l'ai fait pour deux raisons: 1) Les articles de ce blog sont publiés par un blog de blogs en France (Chou Genou Caillou) et il semble juste de faciliter la compréhension de ces lecteurs. et 2) je me suis rendu compte que le français est l'un des meilleurs outils de traduction de ma poésie, en raison des nombreux mots d'ancien français importés en anglais après 1066 et ajoutés au vocabulaire latin existant.

Si vous êtes venus pour la poésie, j'espère que vous resterez pour un peu de prose, et j'espère  d'excellente photographie.

Comme toujours, merci de votre intérêt et de votre enthousiasme continus. Merci. Wadó ꮹꮩ.


La photographie ci-dessous a été prise aujourd'hui, quelques jours après mon soixante-dix-septième anniversaire.







Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

I Cannot Be Distanced from Life / Je ne peux pas être éloigné de la vie

I cannot be distanced from life
when I embrace it,
nor ever insulated
from its vibrancy.
Textiles form a barrier
where skin does not.

Je ne peux pas être éloigné de la vie
quand je l'embrasse,
ni jamais isolé
de son dynamisme.
Les textiles forment une barrière
où la peau ne le fait pas.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Friday, September 27, 2019

He Contains All Symbols / Il contient tous les symboles / ᎠᏨᏯᎢ ᎢᎦᎢ-ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᏗᎬᏟᏐᏍᏙᏗᏁ

He contains all symbols,
he contains all signs,
he talks in tongues
from other times.

Il contient tous les symboles,
il contient tous les signes,
il parle en langues
d'autres temps.

atsvyai igai-gesvase nigadv digvtlisosdodine,
atsvyai igai-gesvase nigadv gowelodine,
atsvyai kanegvase gawonihisgidi hawina
soi igohidi nidvlenvda.

ᎠᏨᏯᎢ ᎢᎦᎢ-ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᏗᎬᏟᏐᏍᏙᏗᏁ,
ᎠᏨᏯᎢ ᎢᎦᎢ-ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎪᏪᎶᏗᏁ,
ᎠᏨᏯᎢ ᎧᏁᎬᎠᏎ ᎦᏬᏂᎯᏍᎩᏗ ᎭᏫᎾ
ᏐᎢ ᎢᎪᎯᏗ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ.

הוא מכיל את כל הסמלים,
הוא מכיל את כל הסימנים,
הוא מדבר בלשונות
מזמנים אחרים.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.




He Greets Us from Another Space / Il nous salue d'un autre espace

He greets us from another space
and from another time.
The message he brings is he himself,
with neither symbol nor sign.

Il nous salue d'un autre espace
et d'un autre temps.
Le message qu'il apporte est lui-même,
sans symbole ni signe.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Thursday, September 26, 2019

The Human Condition, Illuminated / La condition humaine illuminée







Image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

I Heard a Raven in the Wood / J'ai entendu un corbeau dans le bois

Another poem in the style of my grandmother:

I heard a raven in the wood
and knew at once the day would be good.
Though the world be full of grief and strife,
there still is hope where there is life.


Un autre poème à la manière de ma grand-mère:

J'ai entendu un corbeau dans le bois
et savais aussitôt que la journée serait bonne.
Bien que le monde soit rempli de chagrin et de querelles,
il y a toujours de l'espoir là où il y a de la vie.




Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

My Boots Are Down at the Heels / Mes bottes traînent la savate

This little poem is dedicated to the memory of my maternal grandmother, Nora "Nano" Dunne Hanes, a talented poet of Whitegate, Co. Cork, Nogales, AZ, and San Diego, CA. I don't know where it came from, but it is, perhaps, more her style than mine.


My boots are down at the heels,
you may know how it feels.
At least there is no hole
in what is left of my soul.

Mes bottes traînent la savate,
vous savez peut-être ce que ça fait.
Du moins il n'y a pas de trou
dans ce qui reste de mon âme.


Ce petit poème est dédié à la mémoire de ma grand-mère maternelle, Nora "Nano" Dunne Hanes, poète talentueuse de Whitegate, comté de Cork, Nogales, Arizona et San Diego, Californie. Je ne sais pas d'où ça vient, mais c'est peut-être plus son style que le mien.





Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

He Is of All Countries / Il est de tous les pays

He is of all countries,
all tribes,
all colors,
and all beliefs.
Three-quarters of
a century
have erased the differences.
He is now most at home
in the uniform
of all.

Il est de tous les pays,
toutes les tribus,
toutes les couleurs,
et toutes les croyances.
Les trois quarts
d'un siècle
ont effacé les différences.
Il est maintenant le plus à l'aise
en l'uniforme
de tous.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

I Do Not Wait for a Memorial Volume / Je n'attends pas un volume commémoratif

I do not wait for a memorial volume,
or a collection in my ninetieth year.
I give it straight to the people,
to those who look for it,
without price.
It will sear like the sun,
it will freeze like ice,
but it will not be silent.

Je n'attends pas un volume commémoratif,
ou une collection dans ma quatre-vingt-dixième année.
Je le donne directement aux gens,
à ceux qui le cherchent,
sans prix.
Il va brûler comme le soleil,
il gèlera comme de la glace,
mais ce ne sera pas silencieux.






Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler. Photo: Fergus McCarthy, Midleton, Co. Cork, Ireland.

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

What Mean These Ways of Speaking? / Que signifient ces manières de parler?

What mean these ways of speaking?
The songs of empire are not for me.
I greet the sunrise and the sunset
alike, unclothed, and free.

My fate is the fate of the earth,
and yours it will also be.


Que signifient ces manières de parler?
Les chansons de l'empire ne sont pas pour moi.
Je salue le lever et le coucher du soleil
pareil, sans vêtements et libre.

Mon destin est le destin de la terre,
et sera le vôtre aussi.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Monday, September 23, 2019

Autumnal Equinox / Équinoxe d'automne

Autumnal equinox,
first day of fall,
Bilbo's birthday,
and mine as well.
Cool, Florida morning:
at breakfast,
I almost needed
clothes.

Équinoxe d'automne,
premier jour d'automne,
L'anniversaire de Bilbo,
et le mien aussi.
Frais, Floride matin:
au petit déjeuner,
j'avais presque besoin
de vêtements.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

Where Are You Going, Old Man? / Où vas-tu, mon vieux?

Where are you going, old man,
from where have you come?
You are trailing light and shadow,
and your race is nearly run.
You have come from the bright lights
of a darkened city,
to bring to us the news
of the end
of your world.

Où vas-tu, mon vieux,
d'où viens-tu?
Vous traînez la lumière et l'ombre,
et votre course est presque courue.
Vous venez des lumières
d'une ville assombrie,
nous apporter les nouvelles
de la fin
de votre monde.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Friday, September 20, 2019

Seventy-seven Summers / Soixante-dix-sept étés

Seventy-seven summers have warmed him,
seventy-seven autumns have invigorated him,
seventy-seven winters have put caution
in his step, and seventy-seven springs
have made him always young.

Soixante-dix-sept étés l'ont réchauffé,
soixante-dix-sept automnes l'ont revigoré,
soixante-dix-sept hivers ont mis en garde
son pas, et soixante-dix-sept printemps
l'ont fait toujours jeune.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

kaneisdidi ulanigvgv vhnai / Words of Power / Mots de pouvoir

ᎤᏬᏚ ᎠᎴ ᏚᏳᎪᏛ,
ᏚᏳᎫᏛ ᎠᎴ ᎠᏓᏙᎵᏍᏗ:
ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎦᏟᏐᏓᏎ
ᎨᏳᏁ, ᎠᎴ ᎡᏆ-ᎠᏓᏅᏙᏁ,
ᎯᎠ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎢᏳᏍᏗᏗ
Ꮎ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ,
ᎠᎴ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎠᏲᎯᏍᏙᏎ
ᎠᎵᎮᎵᏥᏓᏍᏗᏁ.

Beauty and truth,
justice and mercy:
if you add love,
and the Great Spirit,
these are all the things
we want, and they
will bring happiness.

Beauté et vérité,
justice et miséricorde:
si vous ajoutez l'amour,
et le Grand Esprit,
ce sont toutes les choses
que nous voulons et ils
apporteront le bonheur.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler ꮨᏺꭽꮅ.

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

His Strength Is in his Nakedness / Sa force est dans sa nudité

His strength is in his nakedness,
beauty and truth are his shields,
justice and mercy his jewelry,
and the Spirit is his delight.

Sa force est dans sa nudité,
la beauté et la vérité sont ses boucliers,
justice et pitié ses bijoux,
et l'Esprit est sa joie.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Looking Forward and Looking Back / Regardant en avant et regardant en arrière

Looking forward and looking back,
he scouts through time and space:
leaving nothing behind,
he searches for a new-found place.

Regardant en avant et regardant en arrière,
il explore le temps et l'espace:
ne laissant rien derrière,
il cherche un nouveau lieu.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Amayelidi / ꭰꮉᏸꮅꮧ / îles / Islands / +translations

ᏂᎦᏛ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎭᏎ ᎠᎹᏰᎵᏗ ᎾᎿ, ᎠᏎᏃ ᎢᎦᏛ ᎠᎹᏰᎵ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏔᏂᏗ ᏏᏅ ᏐᎢ. ᎡᏆ-ᎡᎶᎯ ᎾᏍᏋ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᎹᏰᎵ. ᏂᎦᏛ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎠᎵᏍᏓᏴᏗ ᎠᎴ ᏐᎢ ᎢᏳᏍᏗᏗ Ꮎ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᏚᎳᏓᏎ ᏅᎳᏎ ᎠᎭᏂ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ, ᎠᎴ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏲᏨᎯ ᎡᏙᏓᏎ ᎠᎭᏂ. ᎯᎠ ᎭᎾᏂ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎣᏪᏅᏒ. ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᏎ ᎠᏁᎸᏙᏗ ᎠᏍᏆᏂᎪᏙᏗ ᎾᏍᎩᏁ ᎤᏓᏅᎦᎸᏓ ᎠᎴ ᎠᏓᏍᏕᎸᏗ ᎾᏍᎩᏁ.

We all live on islands, but some islands are bigger than others. The earth is an island, too. All our food and other things we need come from here, and our trash stays here. This is our only home. We must try to keep it clean and protect it.

Nous vivons tous sur des îles, mais certaines sont plus grandes que d'autres. La terre est aussi une île. Toute notre nourriture et les autres choses dont nous avons besoin viennent d'ici, et nos déchets restent ici. Ceci est notre seule maison. Nous devons essayer de le garder propre et de le protéger.

Todos vivimos en islas, pero algunas islas son más grandes que otras. La tierra también es una isla. Toda nuestra comida y otras cosas que necesitamos provienen de aquí, y nuestra basura se queda aquí. Este es nuestro único hogar. Debemos tratar de mantenerlo limpio y protegerlo.

我们都生活在岛屿上,但有些岛屿比其他岛屿更大。 地球也是一个岛屿。 我们所需的所有食物和其他东西都来自这里,我们的垃圾留在这里。 这是我们唯一的家。 我们必须尽量保持清洁并保护它。

हम सभी द्वीपों पर रहते हैं, लेकिन कुछ द्वीप दूसरों की तुलना में बड़े हैं। पृथ्वी भी एक द्वीप है। हमारे सभी भोजन और अन्य चीजें जो हमें यहां से आती हैं, और हमारा कचरा यहां रहता है। यह हमारा एकमात्र घर है। हमें इसे स्वच्छ रखने और इसकी रक्षा करने की कोशिश करनी चाहिए।

كلنا نعيش في جزر ، لكن بعض الجزر أكبر من غيرها. الأرض جزيرة أيضًا. جميع طعامنا والأشياء الأخرى التي نحتاجها تأتي من هنا ، وتبقى القمامة لدينا هنا. هذا هو بيتنا الوحيد. يجب أن نحاول الحفاظ عليه نظيفًا وحمايته.

כולנו חיים על איים, אך איים מסוימים גדולים מאחרים. גם האדמה היא אי. מכאן כל האוכל ודברים אחרים שאנו זקוקים להם, והאשפה שלנו נשארת כאן. זה הבית היחיד שלנו. עלינו לנסות לשמור עליו נקי ולהגן עליו.

Ni ĉiuj loĝas sur insuloj, sed iuj insuloj estas pli grandaj ol aliaj. Ankaŭ la tero estas insulo. Ĉiuj niaj manĝaĵoj kaj aliaj aĵoj, kiujn ni bezonas, venas de ĉi tie, kaj nia rubo restas ĉi tie. Ĉi tiu estas nia sola hejmo. Ni devas provi konservi ĝin pura kaj protekti ĝin.






I hereby place this simple little text into the public domain, along with its accompanying image. Please feel free to translate it into your own language, and to use it freely.

Monday, September 16, 2019

Faces Unbidden / Des visages non invités

Faces unbidden spring from the shadows,
what message have they to tell?
Come they from a long-lost heaven,
or fróm some ánguished hell?

Des visages non invités surgissent de l'ombre,
quel message ont-ils à dire?
Est-ce qu'ils viennent d'un paradis longtemps perdu,
ou d'un enfer angoissé?






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Playing "House" with Ginny (Memoir)

When I was six, I was given cowboy boots for my birthday. I had a strong interest in cowboy boots, and in everything else cowboy. I admired the new boots greatly. Apparently one of the neighbor girls, Ginny Bailey, also admired them. So much so, in fact, that she seduced me into playing "house" with her in the Cornell family's playhouse, a playhouse no longer used for its original purpose, since the Cornell girls were now all young adults.

I don't know how it is now, but in those days without electronic devices, little boys usually played "war," or "bombs over Tokyo," or attached toy soldiers to handkerchief parachutes and tossed them into the air. Little girls, on the other hand, played with dolls or, especially if they could snag a boy to play it with them, played "house."

Now, playing "house" frequently tended to have sexual overtones. In fact, it was often similar to playing "doctor," which I believe I had also played, when "war" was not available.

Anyway, Ginny persuaded me to go into the disused playhouse with her, which was a very private place. Ginny laid back on some kind of bench or something, and, without further ado, pulled down her panties and showed me her still-unfurred little treasure. I was sure that all this was happening because she admired my cowboy boots. Then she said "cackle my duper."

I knew what Ginny meant by "duper," though I had never heard the word before, because she pointed to it. But I was flummoxed by "cackle." I thought it might be something like "tickle," but I was pretty sure that it must have something to do with my new cowboy boots.

I decided to wing it. Slowly and ceremoniously, I lifted my right foot, and gently placed the instep of my new boot on her duper.

Strangely, this seemed to satisfy her for the moment. At that point, I think I told Ginny that I had to go.

I think Ginny must have actually liked me, apart from the boots, because in succeeding years she asked, more than once, to dance with her. She always wanted to dance the "Virginia Reel," which had, no doubt, been named after her.

I have no idea whether Ginny is still on the planet. If she is, and happens to read this, I hope she gets a chuckle out of it. I have nothing but respect for her.





Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Saturday, September 14, 2019

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night / Bonjour matin / après-midi / soir / nuit





Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, whatever it is where you are, and greetings from sunny Florida. By now you know who I am: poet, translator, photographer, naturist, feminist, lover of language and languages, and, sometimes, curmudgeon. I wear whatever hat is needed at the time, and not much else. I am 76 years old (soon to be 77), married (for 40 years, to the same woman) and retired. I was one of the Hippies of the Summer of Love (1967) in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district. I am 4% Native American (Cherokee), 25% Jewish, mostly European, and 100% human. I care about many things, including spirituality and social justice.

With a background like that, you are bound to get diverse content in this blog. The blog has existed since October 2016, so it is almost three years old. In that time the entries in the blog have had more than 67,000 visits, from almost every country in the world. The communication, though is almost entirely one-way. I write to please myself, according to my interests and whatever is on my mind at the time. I would love, though, to have input from my readers. If you have suggestions, criticisms, or whatever, you can send them to me via email (exolinguist at gmail dot com). Or, simply write a comment directly in any blog entry. Thanks.

Bonjour matin / après-midi / soir / nuit, ce qu'il soit où vous vous trouvez et salutations de la Floride ensoleillée. Vous déja savez qui je suis: poète, traducteur, photographe, naturiste, féministe, amoureux de la langue et des langues et, parfois, curmudgeon (bourru). Je porte le chapeau dont on a besoin à l'époque et pas grand chose d'autre. J'ai 76 ans (bientôt 77 ans), marié (depuis 40 ans avec la même femme) et à la retraite. J'étais l'un des hippies de l'été de l'amour (1967) dans le district de Haight-Ashbury à San Francisco. Je suis 4% d'Amérindiens (Cherokee), 25% de Juifs, principalement européens et 100% humains. Je tiens à beaucoup de choses, y compris la spiritualité et la justice sociale.

Avec un tel contexte, vous aurez forcément accès à un contenu diversifié sur ce blog. Le blog existe depuis octobre 2016, il a donc presque trois ans. Durant cette période, les entrées du blog ont reçu plus de 67 000 visites, en provenance de presque tous les pays du monde. La communication, cependant, est presque entièrement à sens unique. J'écris pour me faire plaisir, en fonction de mes intérêts et de tout ce qui me préoccupe à l'époque. J'aimerais cependant avoir l'avis de mes lecteurs. Si vous avez des suggestions, des critiques ou autre chose, vous pouvez me les envoyer par courrier électronique (exolinguist at gmail dot com). Ou simplement, écrivez un commentaire directement dans une entrée de blog. Merci.



Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

The Map of Desire / La carte du désir

The map of desire is long and lean,
it follows us like a robot machine.
The sun rises and sets on its peaks and valleys,
never reaching into its lonely alleys.
Give it enough to keep it alive,
and allow the soul within to thrive.

La carte du désir est longue et maigre,
cela nous suit comme une machine robotisée.
Le soleil se lève et se couche sur ses pics et ses vallées,
ne jamais atteindre ses ruelles solitaires.
Donnez-le assez pour le garder en vie,
et permettez à l'âme intérieure de prospérer.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Friday, September 13, 2019

Thoughts on the "Hail Mary" (Ave Maria)

Some of you know that at night I keep a notebook beside my bed. I record in it snippets of dreams and other things that come to me. Twice recently, words from the "Hail Mary" prayer have come to me in that way. Now, I would like it to be clear that, although I was raised Catholic, I do not practice that religion or any other. I am, though, a respecter of all religions, to the extent that they deserve it. I should also confess that, after high school, I spent two and a half months in a Jesuit novitiate, where we recited the Rosary, including the Hail Mary, in Latin, every day. Sometimes we barely had time to squeeze it in, so we had to say those Latin words very fast.

Be that as it may, I do not think that I have said either a Rosary or a Hail Mary in the last 57 years. I do not know why the words would come to me in a dream, or what it could mean, if anything. But I am a respecter of dreams and other things that come to us in the sleep state, so I did a little research.

Only the first part of the Hail Mary/Ave Maria prayer has a scriptural basis. That basis is in Lk I:28 and Lk I:42. In my edition of the Vulgate, we have these words:

have gratia plena  Dominus tecum
benedicta tu in mulieribus . . .
et benedictus fructus ventris tui

In English: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is (or be) with you.
Blessed are you among women . . .
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

After this come the Magnificat, a beautiful passage that is, for the most part, a mosaic of lines from the Psalms. I will have more to say about that beautiful passage on another occasion.

What I have quoted above is the scriptural basis for the "Hail Mary" prayer. The prayer, unlike Luke's Gospel, includes the names of Mary and Jesus.

But since the sixteenth century the "Hail Mary" has had a second part, which is the following sentence:

sancta maria mater Dei ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae

English: Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

This "second part" of the "Hail Mary" prayer does not have a scriptural basis. I find it interesting that, while I was saying those words in Latin in the novitiate, I always thought of the "second part" as somehow separate. As it turns out, there is no evidence for the added sentence before at least 1514. Some attribute the added words to Peter Canisius, a Dutch Jesuit who lived from 1521 to 1597, but this is not certain.

Even in the seminary, certain things about the "second part" of the prayer bothered me. First, the phrase "mother of God" did not sit very well with me. I now know that Jesus (Rabbi Yeshua) never claimed to be God. No Jew would. It would be the worst form of blasphemy. Secondly, to have Mary praying for us, interceding for us with the (male, of course) Deity, robs her of any power of her own. There are few women of prominence in the New Testament, and to demote and diminish one of them after 1500 years seems to me a crime against her and against all women.

Thirdly, to think of us humans primarily as sinners strikes me as medieval and bad psychology. The idea of Original Sin, which colored all Christian thinking in the Middle Ages, was popularized by Augustine of Hippo in about 400 CE. Such negative thinking about humans becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I am, rather, a partisan of Matthew Fox's concept of Original Blessing, believing that it will lead us to better results.

In 1960, when I was reciting those Latin words and feeling twinges of discomfort about the "second part," I was not yet consciously a feminist. But I have consciously been one for almost forty-five years, and I will not accept the subtly nefarious actions of the Patriarchy just because the title "Saint" is affixed to the names of the perpetrators. If this makes me a heretic, then so be it.






Text © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

If You Wish to Know Me / Si vous voulez me connaître / ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ

If you wish to know me,
you must know me
without clothes--
that is the real me,
universal and free,
and without pretensions.

Si vous voulez me connaître,
vous devez me connaître
sans vêtement--
c'est le vrai moi,
universel et libre,
et sans prétentions.

iyuno nihi aduladase unvti ayv,
nihi ase unvti ayv dinuwo nutloyasdvna--
na gesvase udohiyu ayv,
igvwanadalegi ale adudalesda,
ale atselvdodi nutloyasdvna.

ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ,
ᏂᎯ ᎠᏎ ᎤᏅᏘ ᎠᏴ ᏗᏄᏬ ᏄᏠᏯᏍᏛᎾ--
Ꮎ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏙᎯᏳ ᎠᏴ,
ᎢᎬᏩᎾᏓᎴᎩ ᎠᎴ ᎠᏚᏓᎴᏍᏓ,
ᎠᎴ ᎠᏤᎸᏙᏗ ᏄᏠᏯᏍᏛᎾ.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler ꮨᏺꭽꮅ.

An Explanation / Une explication

Why am I naked in so many of my photographs? Am I an exhibitionist? No, not at all. This is me, and this is the way I live. I am a naturist, and my house, my sunroom, and my backyard, which is complete with privacy forest, are my little naturist empire. I don't have to go anywhere else. I live in Florida, where the temperature does not require clothes. This is how I'm the healthiest and the happiest. That's it; end of story.

Pourquoi suis-je nu dans un si grand nombre de mes photographies? Suis-je un exhibitionniste? Non, pas du tout. C'est moi et c'est comme ça que je vis. Je suis naturiste et ma maison, ma véranda et mon jardin, qui comprend une mini-forêt pour l'intimité, constituent mon petit empire naturiste. Je ne dois aller nulle part ailleurs. J'habite en Floride, où la température ne nécessite pas de vêtements. C'est comme ça que je suis le plus en santé et le plus heureux. C'est tout; fin de l'histoire.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

67,000 Visits, and a Dozen Roses

As I write this, we are on the cusp of 67,000 visits to this poetry blog. The strange title of this blog entry is a reference to Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses, a country song from the 1980s, made popular by singer Kathy Mattea. Roses are a symbolic way to show one's appreciation, and that's just what I want to do at this time.

This poetry blog has been in existence for a little less than three years, and I would call it a resounding success. We have had visitors from most countries of the world, and from every continent except Antartica. Maybe we'll get that one, too.

So what I really want to say right now is "thank you." Also merci, gracias, todah, dankon, etc. You have made the blog the success that it is.

Wadó. ꮹꮩ.






Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler. Photo credit: Fergus McCarthy, Midleton, Ireland.

Monday, September 9, 2019

Juxtaposition

The juxtaposition
of human and machine
gives rise to a harsh reality,
one full of contrasts
and extremes.
Will there be room
for justice and mercy?
Will there be room
for the knowing
of the heart?

La juxtaposition
de l'homme et de la machine
donne lieu à une dure réalité,
une plein de contrastes
et des extrêmes.
Y aura-t-il de la place
pour la justice et la miséricorde?
Y aura-t-il de la place
pour le savoir
du coeur?






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

Censorship Is Futile / La censure est futile.

"The only defense against bad books is good books." --John Milton

The only defense against bad photos is good photos. --Me.



"La seule défense contre les mauvais livres, ce sont les bons livres." --John Milton

La seule défense contre les mauvaises photos est de bonnes photos. --Moi.





Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

He Wears the Uniform of Eden / Il porte l'uniforme d'Eden

He wears the uniform of Eden
before its fall,
that is to say,
nothing at all.
He lives like this
both day and night:
His innocence is Carpocratian,
and Nature, his delight.

Il porte l'uniforme d'Eden
avant sa chute,
c'est-à-dire,
rien du tout.
Il vit comme ça
jour et nuit:
Son innocence est carpocrate,
et la nature, son ravissement.







Which version of the photograph do you prefer? / Quelle version de la photo préférez-vous?


Text and images © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.


Saturday, September 7, 2019

He Strides Out of Night / Il sort de la nuit

He strides out of night,
and into day:
all black and white,
and nothing of gray.
He carries a light
to guide his way.

The Hermit IX

Il sort de la nuit,
et entre en jour:
tout noir et blanc,
et rien de gris.
Il porte une lumière
pour guider son chemin.

L'ermite IX






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

I Looked at the Stars / J'ai regardé les étoiles

I looked at the stars
while my dog took a pee.
Cassiopeia is low,
but so are we.
I stood naked in the warm, Gulf breeze,
Polaris is beyond the trees.
A moth flew at my ear,
we're here,
we're here.

J'ai regardé les étoiles
pendant que mon chien a fait pipi.
Cassiopée est basse,
mais nous aussi.
Je me tenais nu dans la chaude brise du golfe,
Polaris est au-delà des arbres.
Un papillon vola à mon oreille,
nous sommes là
nous sommes là.






Text © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

Friday, September 6, 2019

This Body / Ce corps

This body has a history.
Born of skinny parents,
it was too slight for war.
Now, at three-quarters
of a century,
it is probably
at its best.
May the soul,
for which it is the vehicle,
be able to say
the same
before it rests.

Ce corps a une histoire.
Né de parents maigres,
c'était trop léger pour la guerre.
Maintenant, aux trois quarts
d'un siècle,
c'est probablement
à son meilleur.
Que l'âme,
pour laquelle c'est le véhicule,
soit capable de dire
le même
avant qu'il ne repose.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

He Has Seen

He has seen
the forests of the night,
Alexandria at its height,
civilized savages,
the Black Plague's ravages,
the rebirth of science and art,
and how it falls apart.

He has seen
people bought and sold,
massacres for gold,
and victims untold;
gods and goddesses alike,
a naked woman on a bike.

He has known
the joy of love,
the power of a kiss,
but in all of history's range,
never a time more strange
than this,

than this.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

My Body Is a Channel of Communication / Mon corps est un canal de communication / ᎠᏆ ᎠᏰᎸ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎶᎯᏍᏗ ᏗᏛᎪᏔᏅ ᎥᎿᎢमेरा शरीर संचार का एक चैनल है। /

My body is a channel of communication.
I listen, day and night.

Mon corps est un canal de communication.
J'écoute, jour et nuit.

मेरा शरीर संचार का एक चैनल है।
मैं सुनता हूं, दिन और रात।

ᎠᏆ ᎠᏰᎸ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎶᎯᏍᏗ ᏗᏛᎪᏔᏅ ᎥᎿᎢ.
ᎠᏯ ᎭᏛᏓᏍᏓᏎ, ᎢᎦ ᎠᎴ ᏒᏃᏱ.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

Thursday, September 5, 2019

The Wind Blows Where It Will / Le vent souffle où il veut / हवा बहती है जहां यह होगा / ᎤᏃᎴ ᎠᎾᎩᏍᏓᏎ ᎭᏢ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ

The wind blows where it will,
the spirit is forever free.

Le vent souffle où il veut,
l'esprit est à jamais libre.

हवा बहती है जहां यह होगा,
आत्मा हमेशा के लिए स्वतंत्र है।

ᎤᏃᎴ ᎠᎾᎩᏍᏓᏎ ᎭᏢ ᎠᏚᎳᏓᏎ,
ᎠᏓᏅᏙ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎢᎪᎯᏛ ᎠᏚᏓᎴᏍᏓ.







Text, translations, and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler नग्न देवीदास

We Give the Breath / Nous donnons le souffle / हम सांस फेंकते हैं

We give the breath
to the lower fire.
The child born rises
to Sahasrar.

Nous donnons le souffle
au feu inférieur.
L'enfant né monte
à Sahasrar.

हम सांस फेंकते हैं
नीचे आग में।
जन्म लेने वाला बच्चा उठता है
सहस्रार तक।







Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler नग्न देवीदास


Wednesday, September 4, 2019

We Cast the Bija / हमने बीजा डाला

We cast the bija
into the yoni-fire
as a sacrifice
to all the gods,
to all life.
Swaha.

हमने बीजा डाला
योनी-अग्नि में
एक बलिदान के रूप में
सभी देवताओं के लिए,
सभी जीवन के लिए।
स्वाहा।







Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler नग्न देवीदास

Tuesday, September 3, 2019

All Mysteries / Tous les mystères

All mysteries have been unsealed,
now it is just the heart
that must be revealed.

Tous les mystères ont été descellés,
maintenant c'est juste le coeur
qui doit être révélé.






חכמה     בינה

דעת



Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.

Monday, September 2, 2019

The Dog Brought In a Leaf Today / Le chien a apporté une feuille aujourd'hui,

The dog brought in a leaf today,
I tried to capture its form,
and got my natural self.
Oh, well . . .
c'est la vie.
Je suis comme la feuille.

Le chien a apporté une feuille aujourd'hui,
J'ai essayé de capturer sa forme,
et obtenu mon moi naturel.
Eh, bien. . .
c'est la vie.
Je suis comme la feuille.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald C. Traxler.

The Part Is Not Greater (with translations)

The part is not greater than the whole,
but it is sometimes sufficient.

La partie n'est pas plus grande que le tout,
mais c'est parfois suffisante.

La parte no es mayor que el todo,
pero a veces es suficiente.

igadv tla ugodesdi sinv nigadv,
aseno gesvase yudahi yeliquu.

ᎢᎦᏛ Ꮭ ᎤᎪᏕᏍᏗ ᏏᏅ ᏂᎦᏛ,
ᎠᏎᏃ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏳᏓᎯ ᏰᎵᏊ.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler ꮨᏺꭽꮅ.


Sunday, September 1, 2019

What Do We Owe?

What do we owe to a past
that is full of massacres,
pogroms, and war?

What do we owe to a present
that is full of uncertainty,
risk, and strife?

What do we owe to a future
that is full of extinctions,
death, and life?

We owe them what they
have given to us,
no less, and nothing more:

survival, love, and life.


To your children
sing this song:
may you live
long, and long.






Text and image © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.