Tr Vazirani Reetika
Biographic Data
| ID | 2897389 |
|---|---|
| NAME | Tr Vazirani Reetika |
| GIVEN NAMES | Tr Vazirani |
| FAMILY NAME | Reetika |
| SIGNATURE | REETIKA T V |
| VERIFIED | No |
| TOTAL WORKS | 13 |
| TOTAL CITATIONS | 2 |
| AUTHOR COUNT | 13 |
| EDITOR COUNT | 0 |
| FIRST PUBLICATION YEAR | 1995 |
| LATEST PUBLICATION YEAR | 1995 |
| H-INDEX | 1 |
Carnival
Carnival Paulo Colina (bio) Our mouths sewn, stitch by stitch, with thin transparent baitline thread a slime of spittle, spectacle, an allure. Shallow hooded figures pale from a fear understood but never explained, a parade, singing that samba has no color. And we brag of our freedom in samba songs, while, at our side, all the trembling shadows of all our generations fight to revive, in our distracted memory, the always open wound of our daily As…
Ejo-lorun
Ejo-lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) everything in her (the serpent over there, from the place of master didi) was from other eras the slow turn- ing around in the stratum of redman and blackman and straw and iron and the whiteman and cowries the glance far NEAR infinite her slippery singing with no syllables Ejo-Lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam tudo nela (a serpente do além de mestre didi) era de ou…
Ouro Preto: Interpretation Itinerary
Ouro Preto Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Upon contemplating the baroque of the churches and the glare of the gold, the visitor looking does not merge the building with the past: small hills so dark: and does not grasp the silence of a totem never seen. The baroque is not the depletion of the gold but the right of the raped body. Ouro Preto: interpretation itinerary Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazir…
Marina and the Word, Another Name
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Great Mother
Great Mother Ricardo Aleixo (bio) all the waters of the world are Hers. they flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees everything. sees everything again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. MamÃe Grande Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam todas as águ…
Pieces of a Woman
Pieces of a Woman Míriam Alves (bio) It is I in bed who embrace consume you with the ardor of sex. It is I tired, upset I throw myself in bed I bite my lips the flavor of absence I am that woman At night . . . I see myself bent over on the corners whipped by an absence I grow weak break into pieces. Woman I am this woman luffing like confetti in your hand Woman—shards of flesh drying in the back yard a prisoner in the house of amnesia Woman—revol…
Much to the Sea
Much to the Sea José Carlos Limeira (bio) for a black woman Like a navigator I uncovered the course of your body house and port where I dare stay without moorings or anything else calm dock, grotto of hidden fish, sweet wharf but when I, black pirate, launch in the waters of your pleasures I am bold lose maps, lighthouse eyes flash from which I navigate novembers, augusts miles, us lost and more lost like a compass, only desires and I suck you in…
This Is For You
This Is For You Éle Semog (bio) You who Still trade on the street, blow bad dope To get the courage To rail against the government; You still close deals in the city and You size up people By how black they act; You still close deals and You keep flattering the countryside, And the people of the countryside, The peasants—the country, the open fields, From within the four walls Of your private condo, With your magnificent courtesies That your fath…
Morning Prayer
Morning Prayer Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) for Núbia Pereira The day does not know your name and it could not. Many shrieks of rain still slumber in the trees. Whoever saw the sun can’t see the laughter of Zambi. Only the old ones look but they don’t speak or if they speak it’s in the language of silence. come mistress come mistress let’s make miracle The day is a burning night and Zambi is the mystery. ah mistress, ah mistress, The day do…
Induca, Maria do Rosario
Induca, Maria do Rosário Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Induca, where has life gone? The boy slips through the wall and disappears in the darkness of the room. Induca, I came late your eyes waited for me. Another boy slips through the wall with sugared wafers in his hand. Hey, Induca, where has life gone? I hope night falls patiently, I hope. You comment on the fear with a proverb. Induca, the boys slip back through the wall. The night belong…
I Am
I Am Oliveira Silveira (bio) I am the word the puddle for the thirst of the whole world and I have in my soul clear water and sky in the background. I already was an oar, I was the hoe and the brick; the railroad track, fieldwork, seed, grain. I already was the oppressive word, today I am the word enough. And this day I am going to reject the boss trampling such a thought. My song is the salty blade that turns against the foreman, saying that my …
Man to the Apocryphal Glow from Puya
Man to the Apocryphal Power of Rouge Part I of puya* Ronald Augusto (bio) zum zum zum I drink rum rum rum I score and I praise such ire here in the cane store in the sugar mills I castrate a stalk, one’s nothing * * * the tall black man like a palm tree chipping the scales off a sleep-walker replacing others outside he welcomes my hint of discouragement which is total peacefulness slacks and spare change and also inserted in a newspaper’s fold an…
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Pieces of a Woman
Pieces of a Woman Míriam Alves (bio) It is I in bed who embrace consume you with the ardor of sex. It is I tired, upset I throw myself in bed I bite my lips the flavor of absence I am that woman At night . . . I see myself bent over on the corners whipped by an absence I grow weak break into pieces. Woman I am this woman luffing like confetti in your hand Woman—shards of flesh drying in the back yard a prisoner in the house of amnesia Woman—revol…
Carnival
Carnival Paulo Colina (bio) Our mouths sewn, stitch by stitch, with thin transparent baitline thread a slime of spittle, spectacle, an allure. Shallow hooded figures pale from a fear understood but never explained, a parade, singing that samba has no color. And we brag of our freedom in samba songs, while, at our side, all the trembling shadows of all our generations fight to revive, in our distracted memory, the always open wound of our daily As…
Ejo-lorun
Ejo-lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) everything in her (the serpent over there, from the place of master didi) was from other eras the slow turn- ing around in the stratum of redman and blackman and straw and iron and the whiteman and cowries the glance far NEAR infinite her slippery singing with no syllables Ejo-Lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam tudo nela (a serpente do além de mestre didi) era de ou…
Ouro Preto: Interpretation Itinerary
Ouro Preto Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Upon contemplating the baroque of the churches and the glare of the gold, the visitor looking does not merge the building with the past: small hills so dark: and does not grasp the silence of a totem never seen. The baroque is not the depletion of the gold but the right of the raped body. Ouro Preto: interpretation itinerary Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazir…
Marina and the Word, Another Name
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Great Mother
Great Mother Ricardo Aleixo (bio) all the waters of the world are Hers. they flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees everything. sees everything again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. MamÃe Grande Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam todas as águ…
Pieces of a Woman
Pieces of a Woman Míriam Alves (bio) It is I in bed who embrace consume you with the ardor of sex. It is I tired, upset I throw myself in bed I bite my lips the flavor of absence I am that woman At night . . . I see myself bent over on the corners whipped by an absence I grow weak break into pieces. Woman I am this woman luffing like confetti in your hand Woman—shards of flesh drying in the back yard a prisoner in the house of amnesia Woman—revol…
Much to the Sea
Much to the Sea José Carlos Limeira (bio) for a black woman Like a navigator I uncovered the course of your body house and port where I dare stay without moorings or anything else calm dock, grotto of hidden fish, sweet wharf but when I, black pirate, launch in the waters of your pleasures I am bold lose maps, lighthouse eyes flash from which I navigate novembers, augusts miles, us lost and more lost like a compass, only desires and I suck you in…
This Is For You
This Is For You Éle Semog (bio) You who Still trade on the street, blow bad dope To get the courage To rail against the government; You still close deals in the city and You size up people By how black they act; You still close deals and You keep flattering the countryside, And the people of the countryside, The peasants—the country, the open fields, From within the four walls Of your private condo, With your magnificent courtesies That your fath…
Morning Prayer
Morning Prayer Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) for Núbia Pereira The day does not know your name and it could not. Many shrieks of rain still slumber in the trees. Whoever saw the sun can’t see the laughter of Zambi. Only the old ones look but they don’t speak or if they speak it’s in the language of silence. come mistress come mistress let’s make miracle The day is a burning night and Zambi is the mystery. ah mistress, ah mistress, The day do…
Induca, Maria do Rosario
Induca, Maria do Rosário Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Induca, where has life gone? The boy slips through the wall and disappears in the darkness of the room. Induca, I came late your eyes waited for me. Another boy slips through the wall with sugared wafers in his hand. Hey, Induca, where has life gone? I hope night falls patiently, I hope. You comment on the fear with a proverb. Induca, the boys slip back through the wall. The night belong…
I Am
I Am Oliveira Silveira (bio) I am the word the puddle for the thirst of the whole world and I have in my soul clear water and sky in the background. I already was an oar, I was the hoe and the brick; the railroad track, fieldwork, seed, grain. I already was the oppressive word, today I am the word enough. And this day I am going to reject the boss trampling such a thought. My song is the salty blade that turns against the foreman, saying that my …
Man to the Apocryphal Glow from Puya
Man to the Apocryphal Power of Rouge Part I of puya* Ronald Augusto (bio) zum zum zum I drink rum rum rum I score and I praise such ire here in the cane store in the sugar mills I castrate a stalk, one’s nothing * * * the tall black man like a palm tree chipping the scales off a sleep-walker replacing others outside he welcomes my hint of discouragement which is total peacefulness slacks and spare change and also inserted in a newspaper’s fold an…
Art (12 works) · Art history (9 works) · Humanities (9 works) · Literature, Culture, and Criticism (8 works) · Law (4 works) · Philosophy (4 works) · Political science (4 works) · History (2 works) · Travel Writing and Literature (2 works) · Archaeology (1 works)