En Fin: original French poem and English translation by Ezra Katz

En Fin

S’il ne me restait que quelques jours à vivre
J’irais au sommet d’une montagne
Je mangerais tous les chocolats dans le magasin
Mes jours seraient précieux
Et je ne voudrais pas les gaspiller
Je parlerais à une personne intéressante
Regarderais tous les belles images du monde
Ecouterais tous les sons d’une ville
Je conduirais aux extrémités de la terre
Et à l’arrière
Je ferais tout ce que
Quelqu’un voudrait faire
Mais
En fin
Rien ne ramènerait les jours
Que j’aurai perdus avec vous

***

In the End

If I only had a few days to live
I would climb to the top of a mountain
I would eat all of the chocolates in the store
My days would be precious
And I would not waste them
I would talk to an interesting person
See all the beautiful sights of the world
Listen to all the sounds of a city
I would drive to the ends of the Earth
And back
I would do everything that
Anyone would ever want to do
But
In the end
Nothing would bring back the days
That I would loose with you

Which is the Better Line For Father’s Day?

In an interview with this blog some time ago, poet Jean Valentine wrote that she was debating two versions of a line:

I’m always, my young fathers, out in the air,/
loving you.

or (one line without a break): I’m always, my young fathers, out in the air. Loving you.

Which do you prefer?

***

Father’s Shirt by Natalie Goldberg

Stop Me Before I Read Again: Don’t Descend into Hell with Dan Brown’s Inferno

This is a bad book. It violates genre by unleashing an “epidemic” on humankind–that is, the hero totally fails in his mission. That said, I read every word, but my excuse is that I was stranded in LAX.
So–three good things about the book
1. Nice descriptions of art
2. Appreciation of Dante
3. Fast paced
Negative things
1. The plot makes almost no sense
2.The ending is a ridiculous futuristic impossibility
3. The protagonist gets less sympathetic with each book
Oh, and people have implausible diseases, implausible crushes, and implausible identity flipflops.
Don’t bother.

Devil's Hollow Shoe Tree Photos

Reblogged from Elizabeth Melton Parsons:

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Yesterday morning I visited one of my favorite blogs (The Top Ten of Anything and Everything) and was surprised to find a post on shoe tossing. You really need to check out this blog. He has some of the most weird, crazy, yummy and downright beautiful photos on there. You'll love it. Back to the shoe tossing. We have our own local shoe tree and I'd planned to visit to get some pictures.

Read more… 371 more words

Can't resist reblogging a few more shoe trees!

Story of my Life and a Shoe Tree

Reblogged from Always wandering, Never lost:

I have a story about my morning that basically explains my entire life.I go to the University of Minnesota and I will be graduating on Sunday. Two days from now.

We have this tradition on campus where when you graduate, you get to throw a pair of shoes on to the shoe tree. The omen is that if you miss you fail your finals.

Read more… 200 more words

Shoe Tree

Along America’s “Loneliest Highway” (Route 50 across Nevada) a shoe tree was vandalized. But a new one sprung up to take its place.

ROADSIDE AMERICA has this to say:
Shoe Trees may be the greatest embodiment of the American Spirit you can find on the highway (free of admission charge, anyway). While cultural anthropologists trumpet the aggregated populist statement of the gum wall or the gob rock, we believe Shoe Trees soar to greater heights.

A shoe tree starts with one dreamer, tossing his or her footwear-of-old high into the sky, to catch on an out-of-reach branch. It usually end there, unseen and neglected by others. But on rare occasions, that first pair of shoes triggers a shoe tossing cascade.

Santa Fe Japanese Internment Camp, 1942-1946 by Frank Higgins

Santa Fe Japanese Internment Camp, 1942-1946

deceived by searchlights,
birds wake and start their singing
atop the barbed wire

to settle a bet
the guards ask an inmate priest
what ‘Santa Fe’ means

near the barbed wire fence
cactus that was only thorns
now starts to flower

beneath guard towers,
the poetry club members
read haiku, softly

from the radio
the emperor’s surrender:
knees formally set

Do they mock or teach?
Dandelions on the grave
know no bitterness

***
Here is an archival photograph of the poetry group at the Santa Fe Japanese Internment Camp. Its source is the excellent http://santafeinternmentcamp.blogspot.com/2012_08_01_archive.html

You can read haiku from the internment camps here and more poetry about this historic site here.