Poetry

Angel
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Poetry

Post by Angel » Wed Jul 06, 2011 4:24 am

In this thread you may post, discuss and analyze your favorite poem. Feel free to include bio's and images, or anything else that you may feel shares a connection with the poem you're posting.

Link to old thread: http://forum.whatisfatmagulsfault.com/poetry-General-td3055784.html




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Post by Angel » Sat Jul 30, 2011 1:52 pm

"Having a Coke With You" by Frank O'Hara

HAVING A COKE WITH YOU

HAVING A COKE WITH YOU

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne

or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona

partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian

partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt

partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches

partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary

it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still

as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it

in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth

between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint

you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look

at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world

except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick

which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time

and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism

just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or

at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me

and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them

when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank

or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn't pick the rider as carefully

as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience

which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

—Frank O'Hara


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Post by Meltem » Sun Aug 07, 2011 9:36 am

Damn, VURangel! Stellar...STELLAR poem!



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“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."



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Post by Angel » Sun Sep 11, 2011 3:10 pm

Mahmoud Darwish

13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-dnoaoIxT0

Translation is not flawless.. but here it goes

لا أعرف الشخصَ الغريبَ ولا مآثرهُ

رأيتُ جِنازةً فمشيت خلف النعش،

I don't know this stranger nor his good deeds

I saw a funeral and I walked behind it

مثل الآخرين مطأطئ الرأس احتراماً. لم

أجد سبباً لأسأل: مَنْ هُو الشخصُ الغريبُ؟

وأين عاش، وكيف مات

فإن أسباب الوفاة كثيرةٌ من بينها وجع الحياة

Like others I walk with my head down out of respect

I found no reason to ask: who is this stranger?

Where he lived? How he died?

For the causes of death are so many

and the pain of life is one of them

سألتُ نفسي: هل يرانا أم يرى

عَدَماً ويأسفُ للنهاية؟ كنت أعلم أنه

لن يفتح النَّعشَ المُغَطَّى بالبنفسج كي

يُودِّعَنا ويشكرنا ويهمسَ بالحقيقة

( ما الحقيقة؟)

I asked myself: does he see us

or does he see nothing and feel sorry for the end?

I knew he won't open his coffin covered with violets

to say goodbye and thank you the whisper the truth

رُبَّما هُوَ مثلنا في هذه

الساعات يطوي ظلَّهُ. لكنَّهُ هُوَ وحده

الشخصُ الذي لم يَبْكِ في هذا الصباح،

ولم يَرَ الموت المحلِّقَ فوقنا كالصقر

Maybe he is like us in these hours folding his shadow

But he the only one who didn't cry this morning

and he didn't see death flying over us like a falcon

فاًحياء هم أَبناءُ عَمِّ الموت، والموتى

نيام هادئون وهادئون وهادئون ولم

أَجد سبباً لأسأل: من هو الشخص

الغريب وما اسمه؟

The livings are the cousins of death

and the dead are asleep.. calm.. calm.. calm

and I didn't find a reason to ask: who is this stranger and what's his name?

لا برق

يلمع في اسمه والسائرون وراءه

عشرون شخصاً ما عداي ( أنا سواي)

وتُهْتُ في قلبي على باب الكنيسة:

ربما هو كاتبٌ أو عاملٌ أو لاجئٌ

أو سارقٌ، أو قاتلٌ ...

There's no shinning in his name

and those who walk behind him are 20 people

except me.. just me

My heart got lost on the church's door:

Maybe he is a writer, a worker, a refugee, a theif, a killer

لا فرق،

فالموتى سواسِيَةٌ أمام الموت .. لا يتكلمون

وربما لا يحلمون .

It doesn't matter

The dead are equal in front of death

They don't speak

and maybe they don't dream

وقد تكون جنازةُ الشخصِ الغريب جنازتي

لكنَّ أَمراً ما إلهياً يُؤَجِّلُها

لأسبابٍ عديدةْ

من بينها: خطأ كبير في القصيدة

Or maybe this stranger funeral is my funeral

but a matter of God is delaying it

for many reasons like

There is a big mistake in this poem


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Post by Pamuk » Thu Feb 02, 2012 7:37 pm

The Fear of God

If you should rise from Nowhere up to Somewhere,

From being No one up to being Someone,

Be sure to keep repeating to yourself

You owe it to an arbitrary god

Whose mercy to you rather than to others

Won’t bear to critical examination.

Stay unassuming. If for lack of license

To wear the uniform of who you are,

You should be tempted to make up for it

In a subordinating look or toe,

Beware of coming too much to the surface

And using for apparel that was meant

To be the curtain of the inmost soul.

- Robert Frost


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Post by Angel » Fri Feb 03, 2012 10:16 am

If- Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;

If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!


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Post by Meltem » Sat Feb 04, 2012 2:05 am

Moon, Pamuk, and Angel

:clapclap: :clapclap:



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“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."



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Post by Angel » Sat Feb 04, 2012 2:54 am

Ümit Yaşar Oğuzcan

Unutulamayanlar

Biliyorum, unutamayacaksın!

Ağır ağır geçecek mevsimler,

Bir bir ağaracak saçının telleri

Solacak albümde eski resimler.

Beni hatırladıkça için ürperecek,

Boşanan gözyaşlarını tutamıyacaksın.

Boşuna zorlama kendini, sevdiğim;

Biliyorum, unutamayacaksın.

Ve biliyorsun, ben de unutamayacağım,

Eskimeyecek içimde sana ait ne varsa

Şöhretmiş, servetmiş herşey geçiyor, inan

Dostluklar ve sevgiler kalıyor, kalırsa.

Sen benim gökyüzümdün, denizim, toprağımdın,

Şimdi bir hatıra olamazsın belirsiz, uzak

Biliyorsun bazı şeyler vardır elimizde olmayan

İşte öyle imkansız birşey seni unutmak.

Zannetme ki herşey bitti sevdiğim;

Birgün yeşerecek şu sararmış yapraklar.

Ve bundan sonra kim severse dünyada;

Seni ve beni hatırlayacaklar

translation:

I know, you will not be able to forget!

Slowly, the seasons will pass,

One by one, your hair will turn to grey

The old pictures in the album will fade.

While you remember me your inside will shudder,

You will not be able to hold your tears falling apart

Do not force yourself in vain, my beloved;

I know, you will not be able to forget

And you know, i also will not be able to forget,

It will not get old, what i have inside of me belong to you

Fame, wealth everything is passing, believe me

The friendship and love remains, if it will remain.

You were my sky, my sea, my earth,

Now, you cannot be only a memory, dim and distant

You know there are things that are not up to us

And it is that impossible thing to forget you.

Do not suppose that everything has ended my beloved;

Someday, those paled leaves will turn into green

And then, whoever loves in this earth;

Will remember You and I...


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Post by Angel » Fri Apr 20, 2012 4:48 pm

“Don't go far off, not even for a day,

because I don't know how to say it - a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in

an empty station when the trains are

parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then

the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve

on the beach, may your eyelids never flutter

into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for

a second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll

have gone so far I'll wander mazily

over all the earth, asking, will you

come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”

― Pablo Neruda


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Post by Angel » Sat Apr 21, 2012 2:53 pm

Turkish poetry - some poems that I love

Good Weather by Orhan Veli Kanık

This good weather ruined me,

I resigned in such a weather

From my government job.

I got used to tobacco in such a weather,

I fell in love in such a weather;

I forgot to take home bread and salt

In such a weather;

My disease of writing poems

Recurred in such a weather;

This good weather ruined me.

Translated by Fatıh Akgül

Friend by Cahit Külebi

Come to my place one night, without notice

Don't make the stairs creak

I am so tired, don't ask

Only you can understand me

Let's sit down and talk all night

Nobody to hear us

Let's have our blue sky

And let's fly, my wings touching yours.

I feel alienated from all people

There is only you

I am so tired, don't ask

You know.

translated by Fatih Akgul

Such is life by Orhan Veli Kanık

This family had a puppydog

Curly and kinky;his name was Dingdong - he died.

They had a pusscat too: Cerulean,

She got lost.

Then their daughter got married.

Young son passed the class

All kinds of things, sweet or sad,

Happened within one year.

Just happened, that's the way it goes...

Anyway, such is life!

There is something by Orhan Veli Kanık

Is this sea as beautiful as this everyday?

Does the sky look like this all the time?

This furniture, these windows,

Are they always as beautiful as this?

No,

I swear to God, no;

There is something strange going on.

translated by Fatih Akgül


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Post by Angel » Sat Apr 21, 2012 2:54 pm

^these last two you posted are so beautiful *-* I like Neruda too

This is one poem of croatian author Nikola Miličević (in croatian and translation in english). It's one of my favorites.

Modra elegija

Postojala si, živo i modro, trenutak.

I nestala si.

I ništa od sebe nisi ostavila. Ni dah u zraku.

Ni miris u lišću. Ni oblik svoj u vjetru.

Ništa. Tvoj trzaj je bio brz i odlučan.

A ja evo mučim sva čula, da oživim

ovaj uzavreli čas. Onaj oštri blijesak

tvoje prisutnosti. Gledam more i nebo

i tražim boju tvojih zjenica. Slušam lahor

(s juga dolazi) i lovim u njemu

val tvoga glasa. Pipam vrške svojih prstiju,

nije li možda, bar malo, na njima ostalo

leda od tvoje vatre, pepela tvoje ljubavi?

Tražim dušu tvoju u duši tišine,

krv tvoju u svojoj krvi, prisutnost tvoju

u svojoj odsutnosti. Ali ništa. I nigdje.

I sjećanje je nemoćno pred tvojim

modrim letom. Ni ono nije moglo

zadržati ništa od tvoje plahe pojave,

od tvog toplog plavetnila.

I more šumi modro. A tebe nema.

I dan šumori modrinom daljine i neba.

I vedro je. I toplo. A mene nema.

I ne znam gdje si, ni gdje sam.

Nitko te više ne pozna. I nema te nigdje.

Ni na nebu. Ni u moru. Ni u ovoj

modroj elegiji, koja te uzalud traži.

translation:

Blue Elegy

You existed, clearly and blue, for a moment.

And you disappeared.

And left nothing behind. Not even a breath in the air.

Not even a smell in the leaves. Nor your shape in the wind.

Nothing. You pulled out quickly and decisively

While I'm tormenting all my senses, trying to revive

this flaming moment. That sharp glow

of your presence. I'm looking into the sea and sky

and searching for the colour of your pupils. I'm listening to the breeze

(it's coming from the South) and chasing within it

the wave of your voice. I'm touching my fingertips

maybe still there remained at least a little bit

of your fire's ice, of your love's ashes?

I'm looking for the soul of yours in the soul of silence,

the blood of yours in my own blood, the presence of you

in my absence. But nothing. And nowhere.

Even the memory is powerless before your

blue flight. Not even the memory was able to

keep any of your hot tempered appearance

of your warm blueness.

The sea is also murmuring blue. But you're not here.

The day is ringing with blue of the distance and sky.

And the sky is clear. And it's warm. But you're not here.

And I don't know where you are, nor where I am.

Nobody knows you any more. And you're nowhere to be found.

Not even in the sky. Not even in the sea. Nor in this

blue elegy, that's in the eternal search for you.


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Post by Angel » Sat Apr 21, 2012 3:40 pm

HOŞGELDİN KADINIM

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin

yorulmuşsundur;

nasıl etsem de yıkasam ayacıklarını

ne gül suyum ne gümüş leğenim var,

susamışsındır;

buzlu şerbetim yok ki ikram edeyim

acıkmışsındır;

beyaz ketenli örtülü sofralar kuramam

memleket gibi yoksuldur odam.

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin

ayağını basdın odama

kırk yıllık beton, çayır çimen şimdi

güldün,

güller açıldı penceremin demirlerinde

ağladın,

avuçlarıma döküldü inciler

gönlüm gibi zengin

hürriyet gibi aydınlık oldu odam…

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin.

NAZIM HİKMET

Welcome my woman, welcome

you must be tired;

I have neither rose water nor silver wash basin to wash your feet

you must be thirsty;

I have no ice cold sherbet to offer you

you must be hungry;

I can not prepare a dinner for you on white linen table tops

my room is as poor as my country.

Welcome my woman, welcome

you set your foot in my room

Now, my concrete floor is a meadow

you smiled,

iron bars of my room are roses

you cried,

pearl like tears are in my palms

roaring as my heart,

light as the freedom become my room

Welcome my woman, welcome

(translated by thehandsome )


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Post by Gül » Sat Apr 21, 2012 3:47 pm

HOŞGELDİN KADINIM

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin

yorulmuşsundur;

nasıl etsem de yıkasam ayacıklarını

ne gül suyum ne gümüş leğenim var,

susamışsındır;

buzlu şerbetim yok ki ikram edeyim

acıkmışsındır;

beyaz ketenli örtülü sofralar kuramam

memleket gibi yoksuldur odam.

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin

ayağını basdın odama

kırk yıllık beton, çayır çimen şimdi

güldün,

güller açıldı penceremin demirlerinde

ağladın,

avuçlarıma döküldü inciler

gönlüm gibi zengin

hürriyet gibi aydınlık oldu odam…

Hoş geldin kadınım benim hoş geldin.

NAZIM HİKMET

Welcome my woman, welcome

you must be tired;

I have neither rose water nor silver wash basin to wash your feet

you must be thirsty;

I have no ice cold sherbet to offer you

you must be hungry;

I can not prepare a dinner for you on white linen table tops

my room is as poor as my country.

Welcome my woman, welcome

you set your foot in my room

Now, my concrete floor is a meadow

you smiled,

iron bars of my room are roses

you cried,

pearl like tears are in my palms

roaring as my heart,

light as the freedom become my room

Welcome my woman, welcome

translated by thehandsome

WOW amazing thanks for sharing


M0vLnl.png



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Post by Liscette » Mon May 28, 2012 12:54 am

Sick

By Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"

Said little Peggy Ann McKay.

"I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I've counted sixteen chicken pox

And there's one more--that's seventeen,

And don't you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button's caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,

My 'pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb.

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?

What's that? What's that you say?

You say today is. . .Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play!"


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Post by Liscette » Mon May 28, 2012 12:55 am

Hug O'War

by Shel Silverstein

I will not play at tug o' war.

I'd rather play at hug o' war,

Where everyone hugs

Instead of tugs,

Where everyone giggles

And rolls on the rug,

Where everyone kisses,

And everyone grins,

And everyone cuddles,

And everyone wins.


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Post by Angel » Fri Jul 05, 2013 4:05 pm


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Post by Meltem » Tue Jun 03, 2014 10:39 am



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“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."



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Post by Angel » Sat Nov 08, 2014 3:05 pm


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Post by Angel » Sat Nov 22, 2014 10:55 pm

ΠΡΟΦΗΤΙΚΟΝ - Profhetic

Poetry combilation "TO AΞΙΟΝ ΕΣΤΙ"- "WORTHY IT IS"1959

ODYSSEAS ELYTIS Literature Nobel Prize 1979

 


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Post by Angel » Sat Nov 22, 2014 11:05 pm

Constantine P. Cavafy Published poems, 1895-1933 (1911)

Ithaka

 

Once you set out on your way to Ithaca,

wish that it should be a long road

full of adventures, full of knowledge.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the angry Poseidon do not fear,

for such as them on your path you will not find,

if your thought remains superior, if a refined

sentiment your spirit and your body touches.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the ferocious Poseidon you will not encounter,

if you do not carry them inside your soul,

if your soul does not stand them up in front of you.

Wish that it should be a long road

That many the summer mornings will be,

that with such pleasure, with such joy

you will be entering ports never seen before

be stopping over at Phoenician market places,

and the fine merchandise you will come to posses

mother-of-pearl and corals, amber and ebony,

and sensual perfumes of every kind,

as many sensual perfumes as you possibly can,

to pay a visit to many Egyptian cities,

to learn and to learn from the educated.

Always keep Ithaca on your mind.

The arrival there is your destination.

But do not rush the voyage at all.

It is better that is should last for many years.

and as an old man to throw anchor at the island

rich with everything that you have gained on the way,

not expecting riches to be given you by Ithaca.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Without her you would not have gone out on the road.

She has no more things to give you.

And if poor you find her, Ithaca has not deceived you.

As wise as you have become, with such experience,

by now you must have realized what Ithacas mean.

 


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Post by Angel » Sat Nov 22, 2014 11:46 pm

Yioryos Seferis Literature Nobel Prize 1963

 

Denial

 

On the hidden shore white as a dove thirsty at midday; but the water salt. On the golden sand, we wrote her name; How lovely the wind blew and the writing was wiped out. What courage, what spirit, what desires and passion we took on our life wrong! and we changed it.


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Post by Angel » Sat Nov 29, 2014 6:20 am

 Nazim Hikmet

 

The small world

And here, this is what I want to tell you now In India, in the city of Calcutta, they blocked the road for a human being. They bound him in chains, there where he was walking. That is why, then, I don't permit myself to raise my head to the starlit universes. You will say, the stars are far away and out earth is so, so small. Well, then, whatever the starts are, I stick my tongue out at them. For me, anyway, the most amazing thing, the most imposing, most mysterious and biggest thing is a human being whom they obstruct from walking, is a human being whom they have bound in chains.


Angel
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Post by Angel » Fri Dec 05, 2014 7:23 pm

L' invitation au voyage

Charles Baudelaire

 

Mon enfant, ma soeur,

songe à la douceur

d' aller là-bas vivre ensemble!

Aimer à loisir,

aimer et mourir

au pays qui te ressemble!

Les soleils mouillés

de ces ciels brouillés

pour mon esprit ont les charmes

si mystérieux

de tes traîtres yeux,

brillant à travers leurs larmes.

 

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

luxe, calme et volupté.

 

Des meubles luisants,

polis par les ans,

décoreraient notre chambre;

les plus rares fleurs

mêlant leurs odeurs

aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,

les riches plafonds,

les miroirs profonds,

la splendeur orientale,

tout y parlerait

à l'âme en secret

sa douce langue natale.

 

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

luxe, calme et volupté.

 

Vois sur ces canaux

dormir ces vaisseaux

dont l'humeur est vagabonde;

C'est pour assouvir

ton moindre désir

qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.

Les soleils couchants

revêtent les champs,

les canaux, la ville entière,

d'hyacinthe et d'or;

Le monde s'endort

dans une chaude lumière.

 

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,

luxe, calme et volupté.

 

Translation

 

The Invitation to the Voyage

 

How sweet, my own,

could we live alone

over beyond the sea!

To love and to die

indolently

in the land that's akin to thee!

Where the suns which rise

in the watery skies

weave soft spells over my sight,

as thy false eyes do

when they flicker through

their tears with a dim, strange light.

 

There all is beauty and symmetry,

pleasure and calm and luxury.

 

Years that have gone

have polished and shone

the things that would fill our room;

The flowers most rare

which scent the air

in the richly-ceiling 'd gloom,

and the mirrors profound

and the walls around

with Orient splendor hung,

to the soul would speak

of things she doth seek

in her gentle native tongue.

 

There all is beauty and symmetry,

pleasure and calm and luxury.

 

The canals are deep

where the strange ships sleep,

far from the land of their birth;

To quench the fire

of thy least desire

they have come from the ends of the earth.

The sunsets drown

peaceful town

an meadow, and stagnant stream

in bistre and gold,

and the world enfold,

in a warm and luminous dream.

 

There all is beauty and symmetry, Pleasure and calm and luxury.

 

Jack Collings Squire (London: The New Age Press, Ltd, 1909)

 

There are quite a few english translations to this poem. My english is poor, I've written that many times already, so I'm not sure I've chosen the right one (right is not the right (!) word here), but it seemed to me good enough, although it's one of the oldest. Baudelaire's language is so perfect (even the sound of it) that it is extremely difficult to translate his poems.

This is a wonderful thread, girls, and all the poems are beautiful, plus they say something for the personality of each one of you. It was a real pleasure reading them.


Angel
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Post by Angel » Fri Dec 05, 2014 7:32 pm

Looking For Your Face

From the beginning of my life I have been looking for your face but today I have seen it

Today I have seen the charm, the beauty, the unfathomable grace of the face that I was looking for

Today I have found you and those who laughed and scorned me yesterday are sorry that they were not looking as I did

I am bewildered by the magnificence of your beauty and wish to see you with a hundred eyes

My heart has burned with passion and has searched forever for this wondrous beauty that I now behold

I am ashamed to call this love human and afraid of God to call it divine

Your fragrant breath like the morning breeze has come to the stillness of the garden You have breathed new life into me I have become your sunshine and also your shadow

My soul is screaming in ecstasy Every fiber of my being is in love with you

Your effulgence has lit a fire in my heart for me the earth and sky

My arrow of love has arrived at the target I am in the house of mercy and my heart is a place of prayer


Lena
Hatun
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Post by Lena » Sun Dec 07, 2014 8:37 pm

 

Looking For Your Face

From the beginning of my life

I have been looking for your face

but today I have seen it

Today I have seen

the charm, the beauty,

the unfathomable grace

of the face

that I was looking for

Today I have found you

and those who laughed

and scorned me yesterday

are sorry that they were not looking

as I did

I am bewildered by the magnificence

of your beauty

and wish to see you

with a hundred eyes

My heart has burned with passion

and has searched forever

for this wondrous beauty

that I now behold

I am ashamed

to call this love human

and afraid of God

to call it divine

Your fragrant breath

like the morning breeze

has come to the stillness of the garden

You have breathed new life into me

I have become your sunshine

and also your shadow

My soul is screaming in ecstasy

Every fiber of my being

is in love with you

Your effulgence

has lit a fire in my heart

for me

the earth and sky

My arrow of love

has arrived at the target

I am in the house of mercy

and my heart

is a place of prayer

 

 

 


Angel
Posts: 108105
Joined: Wed Sep 11, 2019 1:14 am
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Post by Angel » Sun Dec 07, 2014 8:39 pm

 

Looking For Your Face

From the beginning of my life

I have been looking for your face

but today I have seen it

Today I have seen

the charm, the beauty,

the unfathomable grace

of the face

that I was looking for

Today I have found you

and those who laughed

and scorned me yesterday

are sorry that they were not looking

as I did

I am bewildered by the magnificence

of your beauty

and wish to see you

with a hundred eyes

My heart has burned with passion

and has searched forever

for this wondrous beauty

that I now behold

I am ashamed

to call this love human

and afraid of God

to call it divine

Your fragrant breath

like the morning breeze

has come to the stillness of the garden

You have breathed new life into me

I have become your sunshine

and also your shadow

My soul is screaming in ecstasy

Every fiber of my being

is in love with you

Your effulgence

has lit a fire in my heart

for me

the earth and sky

My arrow of love

has arrived at the target

I am in the house of mercy

and my heart

is a place of prayer

 

Who wrote this beautiful poem?


Angel
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Post by Angel » Sun Dec 07, 2014 9:16 pm

Who wrote this beautiful poem?

Rumi. 


Angel
Posts: 108105
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Post by Angel » Tue Dec 09, 2014 3:18 pm

Rumi. 

Thank you, dear Angel. Just beautiful. Simple and deep, which means real poetry.


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