books based on votes: ከአድማስ ባሻገር by በዓሉ ግርማ, ፍቅር እስከ መቃብር by ሀዲስ ዓለማየሁ, የተቆለፈበት ቁልፍ The best Amharic books ever, as voted on by the general Goodreads community. For poetry books. Fetena is an Amharic book of poetry containing poems that reflect the author's profound thoughts on a wide range of issues. It is a book about life, faith, country, . Amharic, Habesha, Ethiopian, satire, poetry books. Collections of Satirical Amharic Poems. On topics of Ethiopian domestic and social lives, public services, .
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Free Amharic Books, Poems and MezArts. Amharic Poems by Yosef Teshome Teklu, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide. Amharic Poems (Paperback) (Yosef Teklu) Amharic Language, Ethiopia, Grammar, . Clarion Call, Law Books, Book Club Books, Books To Read, Books You.
Ethiopia and Eritrea have finally resumed friendship after twenty years of a no-war-no-peace stalemate. Mengistu Lemma was a poet and playwright. The train hauled me out of London - out of the smoke, the smog, the grime, the filthy mix of soot and dust - while the train spun fog from the fabric of steam, clothing the land with its garment of blessings and punishment, Yizze kataf, yizze kataf, goes the powerful weaver.
Instead, they huddled in the corridor, unwilling to share the warmth with a black man - even though coal is black, even though the wealth of England was forged by black coal. The train whistled like a washint flute; haystacks dotted the distant fields, just like the straw roofs of houses in a village at home.
First my mouth blessed that tulla beer of Gojjam, then a bowl arrived, and my empty stomach began to fill as I licked the linseed oil of Gondar from my fingers; next, chicken stew rich with curds. Contented, I yawned. Sleep overcame me as I lay down on fine cotton and was covered with wool Dimly, I heard the door slide open — but was fully awake by the time it slammed shut. But his spotless shirt and neat matching tie made me laugh: Gebre Kristos Desta: He was an accomplished poet, artist, and teacher.
Late in life, he established himself as an independent artist in Addis Ababa, and his work was exhibited both in Ethiopia and abroad. Solace Work in progress growing continually whiling away the days.
A small chair that hugs that braces. Old clothes worn out comfortably thread-bare. Old shoes that have served that have worked. A decanter, a plate, water water to wash in. A towel, rough. A stove, charcoal fire, fire, warmth. A crumb of bread, milk in a bottle fruit on a plate. A cigarette, half gone, smoking.
A letter, a note-book of memories, a newspaper. Kinsmen in a frame, photo of a friend. A bedside lamp, on the wall shadows a picture. Books, books, books to lean on, to run to, to hide in that are company, that teach, that bait a dialogue. A bed, a mattress, a pillow a bed to sink into repose. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
Also others, also many many others. Provide solace. Translated from Amharic by Solomon Deressa. World famous poets Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson The Ethiop within both used an image of an Ethiopian in poems they authored in the 's. Ethiopia Saluting The Colors WHO are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human, With your woolly-white and turban'd head, and bare bony feet?
Why, rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet? Me, master, years a hundred, since from my parents sunder'd, A little child, they caught me as the savage beast is caught; Then hither me, across the sea, the cruel slaver brought.
No further does she say, but lingering all the day, 10 Her high-borne turban'd head she wags, and rolls her darkling eye, And curtseys to the regiments, the guidons moving by.
What is it, fateful woman--so blear, hardly human?
Why wag your head, with turban bound--yellow, red and green? Are the things so strange and marvelous, you see or have seen?
It is widely believed as fact that the great-grandfather of the greatest Russian poet Alexander Pushkin — came to St. Petersburg, according to some, from northern Ethiopia. His name was Abram Hannibal — , and he was brought to St. Petersburg and at the age of 8 or 9. I loved you I loved you, and I probably still do, And for a while the feeling may remain But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain - Made up a love so tender and so true As may God grant you to be loved again. Paul Laurence Dunbar was an African American poet, playwright, and novelist in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
I know the pangs which thou didst feel, When Slavery crushed thee with its heel, With thy dear blood all gory. Sad days were those -- ah, sad indeed!
But through the land the fruitful seed Of better times was growing. The plant of freedom upward sprung, And spread its leaves so fresh and young - Its blossoms now are blowing. On every hand in this fair land, proud Ethiope's swarthy children stand Beside their fairer neighbor; The forests flee before their stroke, Their hammers ring, their forges smoke, They stir in honest labour.
They tread the fields where honour calls; Their voices sound through senate halls In majesty and power. To right they cling; the hymns they sing Up to the skies in beauty ring, And bolder grow each hour.
Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul; Thy name is writ on Glory's scroll In characters of fire. High 'mid the clouds of Fame's bright sky Thy banner's blazoned folds now fly, And truth shall lift them higher.
Thou hast the right to noble pride, Whose spotless robes were purified By blood's severe baptism. Upon thy brow the cross was laid, And labour's painful sweat-beads made A consecrating chrism. No other race, or white or black, When bound as thou wert, to the rack, So seldom stooped to grieving; No other race, when free again, Forgot the past and proved them men So noble in forgiving.
Go on and up! Our souls and eyes Shall follow thy continuous rise; Our ears shall list thy story From bards who from thy root shall spring, And proudly tune their lyres to sing Of Ethiopia's glory. See also: Alemayehu Gebrehiwot: Alemayehu Gebrehiwot, born in , studied drama at Addis Ababa University, then worked for the Ministry of Culture before emigrating to the US, in His collection of poems in Amharic, "Etalem: Sebseb Getemoch" The Endeared Sister was published in Translated from Amharic by Getatchew Haile.
Amha Asfaw: He is a physicist at the University of Missouri, Columbia.
He has translated Langston Hughes poems into Amharic and his latest collection is called "Yilalla Denebo", the title of a funeral lament. Silence Silence is golden, say my countrymen. A bug would not enter a closed mouth, say my countrymen. They have not seen America, a land where silence is synonymous with laziness and a quiet man is considered ignorant.
A Candle in a Jar Do not deceive yourself that you are a candle in a jar: Do not deceive yourself that you are a glowing ember: You do not have the fuel. You do not have the oil which is the source of all light. You do not have it in you. Alemtsehay Wodajo: The Soul Has a Message Alemtsehay Wodajo, born in , is an accomplished song-writer, poet, and actress. Most of her poems are based on traditional war songs, which women sang for the purpose of inspiring soldiers in the field of battle.
The Soul Has a Message From the time she arrives, until the time she leaves her borrowed body, the soul has a message, a role to perform and the means to perform it: The soul has a message, she is entrusted with an assignment.
There are those who are dead even while they live, who have erred and disappointed the soul, who have carried her without benefit and paid no attention to her, who have passed away despised, who let their soul pass away despising her.
To the likes of these, she should not have been given. To those who, carrying the soul, have no soul. Mercato, Addis red bicycles blue houses red bicycles I dream of blue houses red bicycles Addis Ababa This city wakes with the mosques that begin their days praying, closing its eyes to the sound of drums echoing from the churches out into the night. Close Beza, this is dust this is seventeen years of dust at this market yet everything here carried me Alemu Tebeje Ayele: The Saucepan and the Cabbage One day, the ghosts of two dictators bump into each other in the Palace: I found a cabbage BIG as Ethiopia!
I found a saucepan BIG as Ethiopia! Well, what will you do with it? I will cook your cabbage in it! Our country is that saucepan and we are the cabbage, still cooking on the fire they lit.
At the Departure of My Best Friend My best friend has died and my grief is a fire that burns even my tears. I miss his honest smile, his goodness keeps me company. Now the mourners walk away and do not see me burning for my best friend. He is far from life now, burnt out of his life by the flames of yellow fever.
Translated from Amharic by Chris Beckett. Hama Tuma: Notable of all his works are his first collections of stories: Of Guilt The man ran after his fart to slap it back and erase the shame. The stink lingers. Time has subdued my countrymen, they pass history twice and leave no shadow behind. The frog in the pond laughed itself to death, the owl is blind. In the Waldiba monastery, forever silent, noisy festivities are held.
Time moves on grinding all, changing all, but the crocodile has no teeth and the Ethiopian no guilt: Bewketu Seyoum: Bewketu Seyoum is a writer and poet from Mankusa in Gojjam.
His father is an English teacher and his mother comes from a family of Orthodox priests. He published three collections of Amharic poetry, two novels and two CDs of short stories.
Bewketu was awarded the prize for Young Writer of the Year in by the President of Ethiopia and in , he was chosen to represent Ethiopia at the Poetry Parnassus festival in London. Even if he spends his life running away, he will not get far. The melody of the nightingale has lost its immortality and I am sitting on a dead land, writing an elegy in the sand. Smoking is prohibited! Whistling is prohibited! Peeing is prohibited! The whole wall made up of prohibitions.
Which one is right?? Were I blessed with a piece of wall, a little piece of power, my slogan would be: Prohibitions are prohibited! O Egypt, you prodigal daughter born from my first love, I am your Queen of the endless fresh waters, who rested my head upon the arms of Narmer Ka Menes when we joined in one our Upper and Lower Lands to create you!
O Sudan, born out of the bosom of my being, how could you so conveniently count down in miserable billions of petty cubic yards the eternal drops of my life-giving Nile to you? Beginning long before the earth fell from the eye-ball of heaven, O Nile, that gushes out from my breath of life upon the throats of the billions of the Earth's thirsty multitudes, O World, how could you so conveniently have forgotten that I, your first fountain, I your ever Ethiopia I your first life still survive for you?
I rise like the sun from the deepest core of the globe. I am the conquoror of scorching pestilences.
I am the Ethiopia that "stretches her hands in supplication to God". I am the mother of the tallest traveller on the longest journey on Earth! My name is Africa, I am the mother of the Nile. O Nile, my prodigal daughter in the wilderness of the desert, bringing God's harmony to all brothers and sisters and calming down their noises of brass in their endless nakednesses, O Nile, you are music that restores the rhythm of existence into the awkward stampeding of these Middle Eastern blindnesses, you are the irrigator that cultivates peace from my Ethiopian sacred mountains of the sun, across to nod on the East of Aden and across Sinai, beyond Gibraltar into the heights of Mount Moriah, O Nile, my chosen sacrifice for a universal peace offering upon whose gift the heritages of Meroe and Egypt still survive for the benefit of our lone World.
You are the proud daughter, O Nile, who taught the ancient world how to walk in upright grace! You are my prodigal daughter who saved and breast-fed little lost Jacob whose brothers sold for food, you, who nurtured, fed and raised the child prophet called Moses on your cradle, you, who stretched out your helping hand and protected the baby Christ from the slaughtering swords of Herod, O Nile, my infinite prodigal daughter at whose feet mountains like Alexander bent their unbendable heads to drink from your life-giving milk, O Nile, at whose feet giants like Caesar knelt, conquerors like Napolean bowed their unbowable heads to partake from your imortal bounty.
O Nile, you are the majestic blood line of my African glory that showers my blessings upon the starved of the world, you are the eloquence that rings the Ethiopian bell across the deaf world! You are the gifted dancer of graceful rhythms that harmonize with your sisters Etbara and Shabale, with your brothers Awash and Juba, to fertilize the scorched sands of Arabia.
O Nile, without your gift Mediterranean shall be a rock of dead waters and Sahara shall be a basket of skeletons! You are Africa's black soil that produces life. You are the milk that quenches the thirsty multitudes. You are the messenger of my gospel, O Nile, that brings my abundant harvest to the mouth of the needy.
You are the elegant pilgrim of my mercy. You are the first fountain, you are the first ever Ethiopia. You are the appeaser of the lustful greeds. You are the first Earth Mother of all fertility, Rising like the sun from the deepest core of the globe. You are the conqueror of the scorching pestilence. You are the source, the Africa, the Ethiopia, you are the Nile.
Poem to the Matrix image and syllable part like the Eritrean Sea Somalia disintegrates at the tight end of unity highlanders, eyes shut, chase a cat's-tail atonement dreamer and dream now live and die lives apart Sabean images gone, the syllabary stays behind going this way, then that, before deciding on left to right Wy, the Ouh Ouh, the Om Ah Om repeatedly re-incarnates. And tongues of flame will lick again words like wet-land weeds will reach for the sun the young women will smile for no reason at all and silently ask, how did this all begin?
Kebede Mikael is considered one of Ethiopia's best 20th century authors and thinkers. He wrote a total of twenty-six books, and his many translations from a variety of languages includes Amharic versions of "Romeo and Juliet" and "Macbeth".
In , he received an Honorary Doctorate from Addis Ababa University for his unequaled excellence in literature, and for inspiring generations of Ethiopian authors and thinkers. The Nature of Man Once upon a time, God ordered all the animals to gather in a field: all birds and mammals created from His breath, from mighty strongbones to the smallest gnat sat down before his throne. He called Monkey to account: "Look, Monkey, here are all my creatures from humble Donkey to the haughty Lion, tell me if you think their beauty exceeds yours, don't be afraid to speak truthfully, I will correct whatever you see as your defect.