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Fungus. A Heap of Poems
Parvez Kumar
Этот необычный сборник стихов на английском языке создан молодым поэтом из Индии.
В Индии Парвез Кумар получил степень магистра по английскому языку и британской литературе (Guru Nanak Dev University, 2011), а в России преподаёт английский язык и пишет стихи о том, что его волнует: о любви, о природе, о современном обществе и его нравах, о поиске Бога, о Родине…
Стихи написаны простым английским языком, который понятен любому человеку.
Это вторая книга автора в жанре поэзии.
В сборнике найдут для себя интересное все, кто когда-то изучал английский язык или изучает сейчас. А также просто любители современной поэзии!
Иллюстрации со скульптурами, дополненными яркими анахронизмами, созданы в соавторстве с Надеждой Бугаёвой – автором романа со стихами «Сказка о царевиче-птице и однорукой царевне».
Parvez Kumar
Fungus. A Heap of Poems
NATURE CRIES
Nature cries and cries aloud,
For naught I’ve done to make her proud.
My selfish prayer can’t reach His[1 - The word ‘his’ with capital letter H is used for God in the context] ears;
I can’t suborn Him with my tears.
Cheer up you kids with father’s rum;
All life of his, he saved a drum!
My kid did want a dog or cat;
But I just brought him an iPad. —
The peace of mind is hard to seek;
The world is sick and people freak.
Parvez Kumar
AS GLITTERING STARS IN THE SKY
As glittering stars in the sky and golden leaves
Float over my head when I walk under trees,
Your respect flows in my mind.
As a betrayed and wounded chest bleeds,
And I don’t feel firm ground under my feet,
Such are your eyes when you cry.
As a young train runs passionately on rails,
Your incredible love moves in my veins
Such are warm feelings of thine[2 - Thine – yours (in old English)].
As a diehard patriot, I want to be proud
And worship the ground you’re walking on now
Before I, somehow, die.
Parvez Kumar
SMELL
I smell a smell;
It’s foul like hell;
It’s rich and dry;
It makes me cry.
The smell is strong;
Been there for long.
The smell of scam;
I ate with ham.
The smell of lies,
I told my wife;
The smell of crimes,
I do sometimes.—
The smell of foe;
The smell of woe;
The smell’s unfair;
The smell is rare.
No midnight fun;
No fire, no gun!
All are gone,
But the smell is on. —
Bespoke is suit,
Bespoke are shoes,
With Bovet[3 - Bovet – a Swiss brand of the most expensive watches in the world] watch,
Expensive scotch!
I doubt myself;
Any scent can’t help.
Macabre! Deep!
The smell’s in me.
Parvez Kumar
SEEKING YOU
Seeking You[4 - The world ‘You’ with capital letter Y is used for God in the context]
Where You’re not,
Naming You
Who You’re not,
Claiming you,
Whose You’re not,
Is human nature
To get a savior.
Shielding You
From each other;
Using You
Con each other;
Adoring You
Like a lover,
Is very selfish
And very kiddish.
Parvez Kumar
WE’RE CURSED TO THINK
We’re cursed to think about death,
To count the time that’s left.
My brain will stink,
I use to think.
My stuff for lust
Will smell the worst.
My putrid smell
Will scare like hell.
My tongue, my lips,
My arms, my hips
Will feed the worms,
Underground confirms.
Or fire will burn
I dearly earn:
My flesh, my blood,
My hair, my head.
