PSALM 10 (11)

I take refuge in the Lord.
How can you tell me to
fly to the mountains
like a bird?
For behold, sinners bend
the bow and put the arrow
to the string to shoot
the upright in heart
by dark of night.

When the foundations are overturned,
what can a just person do?

The Lord is in his holy temple;
the Lord--his throne is
in the heavens.
His eyes are watching,
his eyelids examine
the sons of men.

The Lord examines the
just and the unjust;
they who love iniquity
hate their own soul.

He will rain blazing coals
and sulphur upon them,
a scorching wind
shall be the portion
of their cup.

For the Lord is just,
and he loves justice.
The upright will see
his face.

Translation © 2015 by Donald C. Traxler

PSALM 9b (10)

Why, O Lord,
do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself
in times of trouble?
While the impious are arrogant,
the poor man is set on fire;
let them be caught in
the schemes
that they devise.

For the sinner glories
in his lust,
and the greedy,
congratulating himself,
blasphemes the Lord.
The impious says,
in prideful mind,
"He will not judge,
there is no God."

His ways prosper
at all times,
your judgments
are far from his mind.
He scorns all
who oppose him.
In his heart he says,
"I will not be moved.
I will not be unhappy
through all the generations."
His mouth is full of
curses, fraud, and deceit,
under his tongue are
grief and injustice.

He sits in ambush with the rich,
in secret places
to murder the innocent;
his eyes spy out the pauper.
He lurks in secret
like a lion in his cave.
He lurks that he may
seize the poor,
that he may seize the poor
by dragging them into
into his net.

He stoops, he crouches,
and the poor fall
to his violence.
He says in his heart,
"God has forgotten,
he turns away his face,
and sees nothing."
Rise up, O Lord God,
lift up your hand,
do not forget
the needy.

Why has the wicked man
scorned God?
He says in his heart,
"He will not pass judgment."
But you do see.,
you take note of strife
and fury to take them
in hand.
The poor have entrusted
themselves to you,
you are the helper
of the orphan!

Crush the power of the sinner
and the wicked:
you will call their evil
to account, so that
when you seek it,
you will find it no more.

The Lord is king forever and ever,
the nations will perish
from his land.
You have heard the wish
of the needy, O Lord,
you have strengthened their
heart and inclined your ear,
to do justice for the orphan
and the oppressed,
so that earthly man
may tyrannize no more.

Translation © 2015 by Donald C. Traxler

PSALM 11 (12)

Save me, O Lord,
for the devout are few
and faithfulness has gone
from the sons of men.

They speak untruths
to each other, with
flattering lips
and duplicitous hearts.

May God remove all
deceitful lips and
boasting tongues,
those who say:
"By our tongues we are strong,
our lips are with us,
who can be our master?"

"Because of the plundering of the poor
and the moans of the needy,
I will rise up," says the Lord,
"and save them."

The words of the Lord
are sincere,
they are tested silver,
separated from the earth
and washed seven times.
You, O Lord, will guard us,
you will protect us
from this generation on
and forever.

The wicked prowl on every side
as baseness is exalted
among the sons of men.

Translation © 2015 by Donald C. Traxler

April 18 2006

It was the one hundredth anniversary
of the great San Francisco
earthquake and fire
(I always thought that
you did that on purpose),
Mom, when you
left us.
You ensured that I
would never forget
the date, and I
never did.
So now eleven years have passed
since that day--it could be
eleven days, or eleven minutes,
time cannot compute
our loss.

About Portunhol

One of the languages I write and post in is Portunhol, a border language that is usually considered to be a dialect of Portuguese. I find it interesting that little Portugal is the source of twice as many visits to this poetry blog as giant Brazil, and has been doing it a lot longer. I ascribe this to the small amount of respect accorded to Portunhol, both in Brazil and in the neighboring Spanish-speaking countries. Although it seldom gets written, I think it is a fine and poetic language, and I am trying to turn my version of it, Portunhol Surenho, into a literary language. There are about a hundred examples in the blog.

I Would Say Goodnight

I would say goodnight, sisters and brothers, but concepts such as "day" and "night," "today," and "tomorrow" seem parochial and artificial, like the national borders and time zones drawn on maps and globes. The past is a stick with which they drive us, and the future is a dangling carrot. All we really have, all we have ever had, is the earth and the "now." We need to do better with the "now," we need to do it together, and we need to do it *now*.

Hoper's Rap

I am the hoper,
the interloper,

don't fit the mold,
if truth be told,

'cause in the long range
I'll struggle for change

both night and day
'til I find a way

for you and me
to be free,

to be free.