Poetry

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Angel
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Poetry

Post by Angel »

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/p ... 55784.html
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Post by Angel »

"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 »

Damn, VURangel! Stellar...STELLAR poem!




“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

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Post by Angel »

Mahmoud Darwish
13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008



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 »

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 »



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 »

Moon, Pamuk, and Angel

:clapclap: :clapclap:




“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

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Post by Angel »

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 »

“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 »

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 »

^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 »

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 »


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


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Post by Liscette »

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 »

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 »

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Post by Meltem »


[YouTube]tv00xjClbx0[/YouTube]




“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

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Post by Angel »

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Post by Angel »

ΠΡΟΦΗΤΙΚΟΝ - Profhetic
Poetry combilation "TO AΞΙΟΝ ΕΣΤΙ"- "WORTHY IT IS"1959
ODYSSEAS ELYTIS Literature Nobel Prize 1979
 

[YouTube]IX0qm9khwKw[/YouTube]
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Post by Angel »

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 »

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 »

 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.
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Post by Angel »

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 Poems and Baudelaire Flowers (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 »

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
Posts: 17450
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Post by Lena »



 
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: 108147
Joined: Wed Sep 11, 2019 1:14 am
Has thanked: 210 times
Been thanked: 529 times

Post by Angel »



 
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
Posts: 108147
Joined: Wed Sep 11, 2019 1:14 am
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Been thanked: 529 times

Post by Angel »



Who wrote this beautiful poem?


Rumi. 
Angel
Posts: 108147
Joined: Wed Sep 11, 2019 1:14 am
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Post by Angel »



Rumi. 


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