Poem
Aung Cheimt
Aung Cheimt Goes to the Cinema
I hearThe ballad
Inside the flower.
Heroes are those who dare cling
To life’s ennui.
I’ve picked up a toy from inside a book.
“Only edible crops should grow
On arable lands
On the earth,” they say.
In the garden
A corpse dissolves,
Still munching
A pack of salted peanuts.
People wear designer shirts timidly.
“SENSE?”
But does he himself have any sense?
A human
On a trishaw.
A human
In a rocket to the moon.
“To paint bovine portraiture
It’s necessary to live an animal life,”
Van Gogh says.
A cup of drinking water
I was privileged with.
How horrifying
“This happened . . .”
“This happened . . .”
5th January, Monday
(Sweet child)
I’ve been through a hundred trials.
Just like that in the life of impermanence
Devils of human existence
Passed by and paused
Glorifying my integrity.
On a rooftop
Under the moon
My soul sits like an aristocrat
While my body rests
In a dimly lit corner.
© Translation: 2011, ko ko thett
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: Arc, Todmorden, UK, 2012
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: Arc, Todmorden, UK, 2012
AUNG CHEIMT GOES TO THE CINEMA
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Poems of Aung Cheimt
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Aung Cheimt Goes to the Cinema
I hearThe ballad
Inside the flower.
Heroes are those who dare cling
To life’s ennui.
I’ve picked up a toy from inside a book.
“Only edible crops should grow
On arable lands
On the earth,” they say.
In the garden
A corpse dissolves,
Still munching
A pack of salted peanuts.
People wear designer shirts timidly.
“SENSE?”
But does he himself have any sense?
A human
On a trishaw.
A human
In a rocket to the moon.
“To paint bovine portraiture
It’s necessary to live an animal life,”
Van Gogh says.
A cup of drinking water
I was privileged with.
How horrifying
“This happened . . .”
“This happened . . .”
5th January, Monday
(Sweet child)
I’ve been through a hundred trials.
Just like that in the life of impermanence
Devils of human existence
Passed by and paused
Glorifying my integrity.
On a rooftop
Under the moon
My soul sits like an aristocrat
While my body rests
In a dimly lit corner.
© 2011, ko ko thett
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: 2012, Arc, Todmorden, UK
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: 2012, Arc, Todmorden, UK
Aung Cheimt Goes to the Cinema
I hearThe ballad
Inside the flower.
Heroes are those who dare cling
To life’s ennui.
I’ve picked up a toy from inside a book.
“Only edible crops should grow
On arable lands
On the earth,” they say.
In the garden
A corpse dissolves,
Still munching
A pack of salted peanuts.
People wear designer shirts timidly.
“SENSE?”
But does he himself have any sense?
A human
On a trishaw.
A human
In a rocket to the moon.
“To paint bovine portraiture
It’s necessary to live an animal life,”
Van Gogh says.
A cup of drinking water
I was privileged with.
How horrifying
“This happened . . .”
“This happened . . .”
5th January, Monday
(Sweet child)
I’ve been through a hundred trials.
Just like that in the life of impermanence
Devils of human existence
Passed by and paused
Glorifying my integrity.
On a rooftop
Under the moon
My soul sits like an aristocrat
While my body rests
In a dimly lit corner.
© 2011, ko ko thett
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: 2012, Arc, Todmorden, UK
From: Bones Will Crow: Fifteen Contemporary Burmese Poets
Publisher: 2012, Arc, Todmorden, UK
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