The Poetry of Liu Xiaobo 2

Longing to Escape

for my wife

abandon the imagined martyrs
I long to lie at your feet, besides
being tied to death this is
my one duty
when the heart’s mirror-
clear, an enduring happiness

your toes will not break
a cat closes in behind
you, I want to shoo him away
as he turns his head, extends
a sharp claw toward me
deep within his blue eyes
there seems to be a prison
if I blindly step out
of with even the slightest
step I’d turn into a fish.

Published in Pen American Centre
Pen Drawing by Amitabh Mitra

the poetry of doctor/poet Agostinho Neto

There on the horizon
the fire
and the dark silhouettes of the imbondeiro trees
with their arms raised 1 in the air the green smell of burnt palm trees


On the road
the line of Bailundo porters
groaning under their loads of crueira


In the room
the sweet sweet-eyed mulatress retouching her face with rouge and rice-powder the woman under her many clothes moving her hips on the bed the sleepless man thinking of buying knives and forks to eat with at a table




On the sky the reflections
of the fire
and the silhouettes of the blacks at the drums with their arms raised in the air the warm tune of marimbas


On the road the porters
in the room the mulatress
in the bed the sleepless man


The burning coals consuming consuming with fire the warm country of the horizons.


Agostinho Neto , Medical Doctor and a Poet, he was the first President of Angola.

Pastel Drawing by Amitabh Mitra

The Poetry of Liu Xiaobo 1

A Small Rat in Prison

for Little Xia

a small rat passes through the iron bars
paces back and forth on the window ledge
the peeling walls are watching him
the blood-filled mosquitoes are watching him
he even draws the moon from the sky, silver
shadow casts down
beauty, as if in flight.

a very gentryman the rat tonight
doesn’t eat nor drink nor grind his teeth
as he stares with his sly bright eyes
strolling in the moonlight.

5. 26. 1999

Published by Pen American Centre
Watercolor Drawing by Amitabh Mitra