BEWKETU SEYOUM POEM PDF

Ethiopia is one such country and the featured poems here by Bewketu Seyoum, reflect many of these changes and the search for a more positive future. So in the poem Bewketu directs his ire at fat cats throughout the world. The door to freedom who have lived in chains are suddenly called to freedom, the door of their cell thrown open and the guards sent home, they will not feel truly free unless they break through the wall. Sadly, although there have been certain improvements in rates of mortality and education, political and human rights are still very bad in Ethiopia; there is little in the way of press freedom, and the country still ranks as one of the poorest in the world. The cover of In Search of Fat has a drawing by Bewketu of a person with their hands up, with a large catapult tied to each wrist. It is a great image and is so resonant to the situation in Ferguson, USA, where the protesters hold their hands up , as Michael Brown is reported to have done when fatally shot by police.

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Ethiopia is one such country and the featured poems here by Bewketu Seyoum, reflect many of these changes and the search for a more positive future. So in the poem Bewketu directs his ire at fat cats throughout the world. The door to freedom who have lived in chains are suddenly called to freedom, the door of their cell thrown open and the guards sent home, they will not feel truly free unless they break through the wall. Sadly, although there have been certain improvements in rates of mortality and education, political and human rights are still very bad in Ethiopia; there is little in the way of press freedom, and the country still ranks as one of the poorest in the world.

The cover of In Search of Fat has a drawing by Bewketu of a person with their hands up, with a large catapult tied to each wrist. It is a great image and is so resonant to the situation in Ferguson, USA, where the protesters hold their hands up , as Michael Brown is reported to have done when fatally shot by police.

Here is Bewketu performing his poems in Manchester, England with translation. Bewketu Seyoum is a popular young Ethiopian poet and writer he is also a comedian from Makusa in Gojjam, north-west of Addis Ababa. He has published three collections of Amharic poetry, two novels, and two CDs of humorous stories. In Search of Fat is translated by Chris Beckett , for whom I am very grateful for suggesting Bewketu to be included on the site.

I hope to include many more translated poems on the site. But you should take a look at Modern Poetry in Translation magazine, edited by the poet and playwright Sasha Dugdale.

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Momentum Lives in the Foothills here, the mountains sit heavy while their children buzz under, around and in between them ambitious, soles in cycles feet snug in cement-dusted leather we build and the air smells of movement of hope-soaked bodies and chemical dirt we watch creaking teeth smash concrete unaffected operators; friends at their feet they move through creatures missing shirking heads and quick limbs Childhood was Mud-Play and Dirty Fingernails I was born to a woman whose hands are washed with ritual balancing act home grown versus raised afar, cleansing finales this, always with translucent crowns on blushing fingertips I thought her magic lay in age— in mine, the earthworms slipped beneath the dirt unsexed and unbothered simply hydrated to form and the heart-red soil had to follow suit under muted hose and desperate hands Agar I remember a yellow scarf fashioned every which way and beautiful bones that peaked at the cheeks. She was pieces of you strolling tall, slender and curved but you were with me as she cocooned and rolled and stretched. Always in a flowered dress, always drenched in fate you sit, a lakeside lullaby a picture of youth then, and forever and forever I gnaw on whether you knew near the end but with age as authority, we lived in darkness why expect more in death? My anger lives in layers un-abandoned, if only for my sake. Sixteen years and his rambles announce his arrival. His steps still sure on our still rubbled paths, parted quick of boisterous kids who run to whisper behind the skirts of busy women or the makeshift seats of idle men.

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Arashitaxe My proposal puts forward a way to resolve the situation. A Poem Refracted through Three Languages. Those that persist as beggars must be removed from the country and stopped from finding homes in neighboring countries better a country that forfeits some of her own citizens rather than one filled with dishonest unlicensed beggars. The door opened and there was a lady inside. Then he came back to the dumpster and resumed his search.

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