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Channel: Verse – THE QUIET LETTER
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Verse – Fabrice Poussin

He, The Palimpsest   Layer upon layer, he walks as if never clothed; fighting a bitter cold day of high Texas August, seemingly tracked in a city desert of millions. To scream a cry for help or shed a...

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Verse – Fabrice Poussin

Reflection   Standing in front of the floor looking glass, alone, eyes open that see not a shape, not a line, not a smile. She left long ago, for it was late in her young life and she must experience...

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Verse – Fabrice Poussin

Wind of a Gentle Soul   He spoke to me again this night in the moving waves above, taking droplets of a refreshing dew to so many blank sheets, writing his memories on the veins, lines of his life to...

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Verse – Constantine P. Cavafy

Ithaca   Translated from Greek by George Valassopoulo   When you start on the way to Ithaca, wish that the way be long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Laestrygones and the Cyclopes and angry...

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Verse – Constantine P. Cavafy

On Hearing of Love   Translated from Greek by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard   On hearing about powerful love, respond, be moved like an aesthete. Only, fortunate as you’ve been, remember how much your...

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Prose – Verghese Kurien

Managing Socioeconomic Change: The Role of Professionals   speech   lndian Institute of Management Dr. Vikram Sarabhai Memorial Lecture - Ahmedabad March 7, 1978     SOMEWHERE IN THE great beyond,...

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Prose – Walter Benjamin

The Storyteller : Reflections on the Works of Nikolai Leskov   Essay     I Familiar though his name may be to us, the storyteller in his living immediacy is by no means a present force. He has already...

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Verse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta

J. Alfred Prufrock's Letter to His Brown cousin   The blue sea and white foam mix as Picasso’s color palette, but it has different veins. At noon, I rolled my flannel trousers in three folds, then...

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Verse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta

Winter in Frankfurt   is a diphthong. There is a loud silence in the void of white snow that leaps over toward smaller towns. There, I recite Beethoven, with print outs of his letters to an Immortal...

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Verse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta

Postmodernist   I. It was closer to dusk. The sun had gone and everything was undone, came into its original form. They walked like apparitions and shed their pre-occupations. There were billboards all...

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