Google Translate Poetry: Buffalo Bill’s



Buffalo Bill ’s


who used to

ride a watersmooth-silver


and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat



he was a handsome man

and what i want to know is

how do you like your blue-eyed boy

Mister Death




English – German – Russian – French – Spanish – Italian – Spanish – French – Russian – German – English




Buffalo Accounts

dead women

who once

Move in smooth silver water


and a break when five five pigeons do nothing



he was a handsome man

and I want to know

What do you think about your blue-eyed boy?

Mr. Death

Google Translate Poetry: Daddy


If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——

The vampire who said he was you

And drank my blood for a year,

Seven years, if you want to know.

Daddy, you can lie back now.


There’s a stake in your fat black heart

And the villagers never liked you.

They are dancing and stamping on you.

They always knew it was you.

Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.




English – Bulgarian – Indonesian – Polish – Afrikaans – German – Afrikaans – Polish – Indonesian – Bulgarian – English




If I kill a man, I’ll kill two –

Vampire told you

And I drink my blood for one year,

Seven years if you want to know.

Dad, you can sleep now.


There is a role in the black and dark heart

And people never love you.

They dance and give you a seal.

You always know it’s you.

Dad, I’m finally done.

Tales from a Middle Aged Father: Uber

There are moments where a lack of attention to detail leads to what many would call an “adventure.” One such moment happened to me when, after a night of heavy drinking at a club, I did the responsible thing and requested an Uber. What happened after was nothing short of an epic tour of Greensboro, one that had all the trappings of Moses leading a lost Hebrew nation through the wilderness without Google maps…

It began innocently when I met a few friends at a bar downtown where we pre-gamed before heading three blocks over to a new club that was celebrating its first real gig. The band that night was a seventies funk throw back that gave us plenty of music to drunkenly dance to. It was a Saturday night, so I let loose and did not hold back on how much I took in, leading to what I am sure was the hilarious vision of a late 30s man doing his best combination of Elaine and Carlton in the middle of a dark dance floor. As the hours grew late, I realized the world was starting to shift to the side a little, and decided it was time to make my exit.

I perched on the edge of the side walk outside, watching my phone for notification of where my ride was. A blue sedan pulled up, and I asked “Barbour?” – he nodded, and I got in. I sat in the back of his car, and watched the lights of the city pass the window. I tried to plan my next day, only getting so far as planning to shower in the morning before trying to remember what I was doing in the present.

A street sign passed my window, a street that a friend of mine lived on. I contemplated what they were doing at that time of night, thought about the last party they had, thought about grad school and different times we hung out in the courtyard or bar across the street from our department – then it hit me. We were on the opposite side of the city from where I was supposed to be going.

“You know where Adams Farm is, right?”

“Adams what?”

Holy shit. Either this guy put the wrong thing in his GPS or I am down to the last few minutes of my life. I immediately panicked in my mind, remembering all the news stories of women being raped by Uber drivers, and, now, I may be the first male to be raped by an Uber driver. Or maybe I was being taken to one of those secret cults where they sacrifice people for a demi-god from the old Norse traditions, or even worse – this guy could be a Scientologist and this was a new way of recruiting – I realized I may be in for hours of Thetan counts and L. Ron Hubbard brain washing.

“Adams Farm! Over off High Point Rd towards Jamestown! Adams Farm!”


It was clear I was s-k-rewed.

“You need to go to Autumn Court, right? That’s what I have?”

“No! Autmncrest, in Adams Farm!”

I was now wondering why this guy wasn’t getting the fact that I needed to be on the other side of the city.

“Dude, Adams Farm, going towards Jamestown. We need to find High Point Rd.”

“It’ll be extra.”

Extra! Are you kidding me!?

“How much?”

“I don’t know. But there’s a fee for changing route, plus the new route.”

I was pretty sure this was bullshit.

“Let me out at the gas station up here. I’ll figure it out.”

He dropped me off and left. I went in and bought smokes, then after I waited ten minutes to make sure he would not be the same Uber I had before, and after contemplating if I should get a Lyft instead, I requested another one. This time it was a little white sedan. I got in, and made sure this guy knew where I needed to go. I explained what had happened with the other guy, and my driver was sympathetic to all of my complaining – either that or he was just having a great time messing with the incoherent rambling drunk in his car. Probably the latter.

We finally arrived at a small cul-de-sac, and he let me out. I had been checking my Twitter when he let me out and I wasn’t really paying much attention to where we were. When I finally looked up, I did not recognize the town homes that I was standing in front of. I searched in a daze of confusion for the front of my home place, grew angrier and angrier, and finally pulled my phone out, and ordered my third Uber of the night.

By this point, I was mentally composing a strongly worded letter to Uber about the horrific night, and the incompetent drivers. I wanted the CEO of Uber to know that I was a valuable customer who put his safety in the hands of his drivers, only to be lost not once, but twice in the same night. I wanted the world to know that Uber had added an extra hour to a twenty-minute trip. I didn’t want to know what this night would end up costing me.

When the third and final Uber arrived, I got in, and told them to please get me to my address. The driver chuckled, and said “ok.”

We drove out of the cul-de-sac and around a small curve to the front of the row of town homes where I lived. I got out. Walked into the house. Found my couch and passed out.

The next morning, over coffee, I tried to figure out what exactly happened the night before. The first mistake was the wrong street typed in by yours truly – autocorrect changed what I had been typing and sent Uber the wrong address. The second time was 100% error on my part as I typed in the wrong house number and left off “Dr” at the end. Finally, the last mistake I made was not paying more attention to where I was and noticing my own back door as the second driver had dropped me off directly behind where I lived, and simply studying the back side of the houses I was looking at would have been a lot cheaper for me when it was all said and done.

The lesson I learned: pay attention to where you’re at…

Google Translate Poetry: The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;


Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



English – Azerbaijani – Punjabi – Vietnamese – Spanish – Norwegian – Spanish – Vietnamese – Punjabi – Azerbaijani – English




Two trees are separated from the golden tree

Sorry, but I can not travel

As a tourist I have been standing for a long time

They move away from me

Bowed to the rain.


Then there is another point

Maybe a better comment,

Grass and I want to use;

Even if it’s here

Google Translate Poetry: The Wasteland Part 1



April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.



English – Bosnian – Lithuanian – Arabic – Catalan – Arabic – Lithuanian – Bosnian – English




April is the month of reproduction

Mix the dead oil

Memory, craving and mixing

Deep roots with spring motifs.

Winter is warm and covered

Dishes for party entertainment

Low level of life with dry rubber.

Year was surprised by Starnberger

With the things we stopped in the column

The sun continued at Hofgarten

Eat coffee and talk for an hour.

Google Translate Poetry: Like a Virgin


I made it through the wilderness

Somehow I made it through

Didn’t know how lost I was

Until I found you


I was beat


I’d been had, I was sad and blue

But you made me feel

Yeah, you made me feel

Shiny and new


Hoo, Like a virgin

Touched for the very first time

Like a virgin

When your heart beats

Next to mine



English – Polish – Japanese – Greek – Welsh – French – Welsh – Greek – Japanese – Polish – English




I wore the desert

You’re welcome

I did not know how it happened

Until I find you


It was out of date


I was sad, I was blue.

But I felt better

Yes, I feel better

Excellent new


Yes, as a virgin

Originally it was put aside

As a girl

When your heart beats

On my side

Google Translate Poetry: Even Flow



Freezin’ rests his head on a pillow made of concrete again ooh yeah

Oh feelin’ maybe he’ll see a little betters any days ooh yeah

Oh hand out faces that he sees come again ain’t that familiar

Oh dark grin he can’t help when he’s happy he looks insane

Even flow

Thoughts arrive like butterflies

Oh, he don’t know, so he chases them away

Someday yet he’ll begin his life again

Oh whispering hands, gently lead him away

Him away, him away




English – Chinese – Bosnian – Somali – Norwegian – Kurdish – Norwegian – Somali – Bosnian – Chinese – English




Again, again

Oh, think “he can see him working every day

Yes, someone later discovered

Yes, I cannot help when he likes it


Travel clothes

Imagine the error

Oh, he didn’t know he took it

But one day they will live their lives

Yes, I did not see

He left and left



Google Translate Poetry – Billie Jean


She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene
I said don’t mind, but what do you mean, I am the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round
She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round

She told me her name was Billie Jean, as she caused a scene
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round

People always told me be careful of what you do
And don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts
And mother always told me be careful of who you love
And be careful of what you do ’cause the lie becomes the truth

Billie Jean is not my lover
She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the kid is not my son
She says I am the one, but the kid is not my son



English – Croatian – Portuguese – Hungarian – Russian – Japanese – Russian – Hungarian – Portuguese – Croatian – English


It’s more like a pretty girl like a movie scene.

Did I say I do not care what that means?

Who will dance on the floor in a circle

He said he danced in his palm.

She said she was called Billy Jin

So he goes to both heads when he is dreaming

Who will dance on the floor in a circle

People always told me to take care of what they did to you.

Do not stop the hearts of the young

And my mother always said I wanted someone who loved me.

See what you are doing. Because the lie is true

Billie Jean is not my friend.

She is the only girl who insists on me.

But the boy is not my son.

Google Translate Poetry – Do not go Gentle into that Good Night



Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



English – German – Arabic – Punjabi – Vietnamese – Italian – Vietnamese – Punjabi – Arabic – German – English




Do not go to Earth tonight,

You have to burn the old time.

The anger, the anger of easy death


Although the wise people in the end know it’s dark,

Because his words do not deliver electricity

Do not slow down this beautiful night


A good man screams death after the last wave

Your weaknesses danced in pure blue water,

The anger, the anger of easy death

Google Translate Poetry – The Star Spangled Banner



O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight

O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bomb bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there,

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?




English – Dutch – Zulu – Albanian – Czech – Russian – Greek – Russian – Czech – Albanian – Zulu – Dutch – English




You say, see, morning,

How proud are we when we are at sunset,

The keys and the stars are on fire

Are these basics so painful?

And the light of the racket, the bomb exploded in the air,

Make sure our flag is present at night,

He says the asteroid flag is changing

Is a free country a proud city?