Poezija na stranim jezicima

[CHichaGlisha]

I'VE KEPT A HOLD ON MY LIFE

I've kept a hold on my life, kept a hold on my life, travelling
among yellow trees in driving rain
on silent slopes loaded with beech leaves
no fire on their peaks; it's getting dark.

Giorgos Seferis

[Kalina]

Ode on Melancholy


No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty--Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

Kits

[Jerowen]

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:—
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,—
That is, the madman; the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt;
The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

(A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare)

[NSdjanka]

Poetry

it
takes
a lot of

Charles Bukowski

[Jerowen]

Sonnet 55 (Eternity through poetry)

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rime;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear�d with sluttish time.

When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword, nor war�s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.

�Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wears this world out to the ending doom.

So, till the judgement that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers� eyes.

(Shakespeare, who else?)

[Kalina]

L'albatros


Souvent, pour s'amuser, les hommes d'�quipage
Prennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers,
Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage,
Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers.

A peine les ont-ils d�pos�s sur les planches,
Que ces rois de l'azur, maladroits et honteux,
Laissent piteusement leurs grandes ailes blanches
Comme des avirons tra�ner ŕ c�t� d'eux.

Ce voyageur ail�, comme il est gauche et veule !
Lui, nagučre si beau, qu'il est comique et laid !
L'un agace son bec avec un brűle-gueule,
L'autre mime, en boitant, l'infirme qui volait !

Le Počte est semblable au prince des nu�es
Qui hante la tempęte et se rit de l'archer ;
Exil� sur le sol au milieu des hu�es,
Ses ailes de g�ant l'empęchent de marcher.

Charles Baudelaire

[NSdjanka]

Song of the Open Road

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.

Ogden Nash

[damian_kUm]

Don't let me die in an automobile
I wanna lie in an open field
Want the snakes to suck my skin
Want the worms to be my friends
Want the birds to eat my eyes
As here I lie
The clouds fly by

James Douglas Morrison

[NSdjanka]

from my bed
I watch
3 birds
on a telephone
wire.
one flies
off.
then
another.
one is left,
then
it too
is gone.
my typewriter is
tombstone
still.
and I am
reduced to bird
watching.
just thought I'd
let you
know,
fucker.

Charles Bukowski, 8 Count

[Jerowen]

"... When you ask God for a gift,
Be thankful if he sends,
Not diamonds, pearls or riches,
but the love of real true friends."

~ Helen Steiner Rice

****************

"He who wants to do good, knocks at the gate:
he who loves, finds the door open. "

~ Rabrindranath Tagore

[Cecara]

LONDON


I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appalls,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.

Willam Blake

[NSdjanka]

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman

[Jerowen]

evo nešto za one koji dobro znaju engleski, i vole igre rečima, kao i sjajnu poeziju....

Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain,
Is painfully to pore upon a book
To seek the light of truth; while truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.
Light seeking light doth light of light beguile,
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark, by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing it upon a fairer eye,
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light, that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven�s glorious sun,
That will not be deep-search�d with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others� books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven�s lights,
That give a name to every fix�d star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
Too much to know is to know naught but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.

(Love�s Labour�s Lost, Shakespeare)

[Kalina]

Impression de Voyage

The sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky
Burned like a heated opal through the air;
We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fair
For the blue lands that to the eastward lie.

From the steep prow I marked with quickening eye
Zakynthos, every olive grove and creek,
Ithaca's cliff, Lycaon's snowy peak,
And all the flower-strewn hills of Arcady.

The flapping of the sail against the mast,
The ripple of the water on the side,
The ripple of girls' laughter at the stern,

The only sounds - when 'gan the west to burn,
And a red sun upon the seas to ride,
I stood upon the soil of Greece at last!



Oscar Wilde

[Orhideja_]

Liebe

Der schwarze K�nig zeigt die Raubtiern�gel,
zehn blasse Monde jagt er in die Bahn,
und er befiehlt den gro�en Tropenregen.
Die Welt sieht dich vom andren Ende an!

Es zieht dich �bers Meer an jene K�sten
aus Gold und Elfenbein, an seinen Mund.
Dort aber liegst du immer auf den Knien,
und er verwirft und w�hlt dich ohne Grund.

Und er befiehlt die gro�e Mittagswende.
Die Luft zerbricht, das gr�n und blaue Glas,
die Sonne kocht den Fisch im seichten Wasser,
und um die B�ffelherde brennt das Gras.

Ins Jenseits ziehn geblendet Karawanen,
und er peitscht D�nen durch das W�stenland,
er will dich sehn mit Feuer an den F��en.
Aus deinen Striemen flie�t der rote Sand.

Er, fellig, farbig, ist an deiner Seite
er greift dich auf, wirft �ber dich sein Garn.
Um deine H�ften kn�pfen sich Lianen,
um deinen Hals kraust sich der fette Farn,

Aus allen Dschungelnischen: Seufzer, Schreie.
Er hebt den Fetisch. Dir entf�llt das Wort.
Die s��en H�lzer r�hren dunkle Trommeln.
Du blickst gebannt auf deinen Todesort.

Sieh, die Gazellen schweben in den L�ften,
auf halbem Wege h�lt der Dattelschwarm!
Tabu ist alles: Erden, Fr�chte, Str�me...
Die Schlange h�ngt verchromt an deinem Arm.

Er gibt Insignien aus seinen H�nden.
Trag die Korallen, geh im hellen Wahn!
Du kannst das Reich um seinen K�nig bringen,
du, selbst geheim, blick sein Geheimnis an.

Um den �quator sinken alle Schranken.
Der Panther steht allein im Liebesraum.
Er setzt her�ber aus dem Tal des Todes,
und seine Pranke schleift den Himmelssaum.

Ingeborg Bachmann