Post a Poem
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Tintagell
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Post: #21
Heart RE: Post a Poem
(2012 Sep 14 11:43)Sun Wrote:  It is not by poet more by popular singer, but...it is one of my favouritesSmile

Only Time

Who can say
where the road goes
where the day flows
only time
And who can say
if your love grows
as your heart chose
only time

Who can say
why your heart sighs
as your love flies
only time
And who can say
why your heart cries
when your love lies
only time

Who can say
when the roads meet
that love might be
in your heart
And who can say
when the day sleeps
if the night keeps
all your heart

Night keeps all your heart

Who can say
if your love grows
as your heart chose
only time
And who can say
where the road goes
where the day flows
only time

Who knows - only time
Who knows - only time

That's my favourite song by Enya!
2012 Sep 14 12:37
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Phlegethon
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Post: #22
RE: Post a Poem
The Cranes of Ibycus

by Friedrich Schiller


Unto the songs and chariot fighting,
Which all the strains of Greece are joining,
On Corinth’s isthmus festive gay,
Made Ibycus, gods’ friend, his way.
The gift of song Apollo offered,
To him the sweetened voice of song,
Thus on a light staff forth he wandered,
From Rhegium, with god along.

Now beckons high on mountain ridges
Acrocorinth to the wand’rer’s glances,
And then doth he, with pious dread,
Into Poseidon’s spruce grove tread.
Naught stirs about him, just a swarming
Of cranes which join him on his way,
Which towards the distant southern warming
Are flying forth in squadrons grey.

“Receive my greetings, squads befriended,
Which o’er the sea have me escorted!
I take you as a goodly sign,
Your lot, it doth resemble mine:
From distant lands we are arriving
And pray for a warm dwelling place.
Be the hospitable good willing,
Who wards the stranger from disgrace!”

And merrily he strides on further
And finds himself i’th’ forest’s center—
Abruptly, on the narrow way,
Two murderers upon him prey.
He must himself for battle ready,
Yet soon his wearied hand sinks low,
It had the lyre’s strings drawn so gently,
Yet ne’er the power of the bow.

He calls on men, and on the godly,
No savior answers his entreaty,
However wide his voice he sends,
No living thing him here attends.
“So must I here foresaken perish,
On foreign soil, unwept-for be,
Through evil scoundrels’ hands thus vanish,
Where no avenger I do see!”

And gravely struck he sinketh under,
The feathers of the cranes then thunder,
He hears, though he can see no more,
Their nearing voices dreadful roar.
“From you, ye cranes that are up yonder,
If not another voice doth rise,
Be raised indictments for my murder!”
He calls it out, and then he dies.

The naked body is discovered,
And soon, though ’tis from wounds disfigured,
The host in Corinth doth discern
Those traits, which are his dear concern.
“And must I thee so rediscover
And I had hoped with wreath of pine
To crown the temples of the singer,
Which from his glow of fame do shine!”

And all the guests hear it lamenting,
While at Poseidon’s fest assembling,
The whole of Greece with pain doth toss,
Each heart doth suffer from his loss;
The people crowd to the Prytanis
Astorm, his rage they supplicate
To vengeance of the slain man’s tresses,
With murd’rers’ blood to expiate.

Yet where’s the clue, that from the crowding,
Of people streaming forth and thronging,
Enchanted by the pomp of sport,
The blackened culprit doth report?
Is’t robbers, who him slew unbravely?
Was’t envy of a secret foe?
That Helios can answer only,
Who on each earthly thing doth glow.

Perhaps with bold steps doth he saunter
Just now across the Grecian center,
While vengeance trails him in pursuit,
He savors his transgression’s fruit;
Upon their very temple’s op’ning
He spites perhaps the gods, and blends
Thus boldly in each human swelling,
Which towards the theater ascends.

For crowded bench to bench they’re sitting,
The stage’s pillars are near breaking,
Assembled from afar and near,
The folk of Greece are waiting here;
Just like the ocean waves’ dull roaring,
With humans teeming, swells the place
In archéd curves forever wid’ning
Unto the heaven’s azure space.

Who names the names, who counts the people
Who gathered here together cordial?
From Theseus’ town, from Aulis’ strand
From Phocis, from the Spartan’s land,
And from the distant Asian region,
From every island did they hie
And from the stage they pay attention
To th’ chorus’s dread melody,

Which, stern and grave, i’th’ custom aged,
With footsteps lingering and gaugéd
Comes forward from the hinterground,
The theater thus strolling round.
Thus strideth forth no earthly woman,
They are no mortal progeny!
The giant size of each one’s person
Transcends by far what’s humanly.

Their loins a mantle black is striking,
Within their fleshless hands they’re swinging
The torch’s gloomy reddish glow,
Within their cheeks no blood doth flow;
And where the locks do lovely flutter,
And friendly wave o’er human brow,
There sees one snakes and here the adder
Whose bellies swell with poison now.

And in the circle ghastly twisted
The melody o’th’ hymn they sounded,
Which through the heart so rending drives,
The fetters round the villain ties.
Reflection robbing, heart deluding
The song of Erinyes doth sound,
It sounds, the hearer’s marrow eating,
And suffers not the lyre to sound.

“He’s blest, who free from guilt and failing
The child’s pure spirit is preserving!
We may not near him vengingly,
He wanders on life’s pathway free.
Yet woeful, woeful him, who hidden
Hath done the deed of murder base!
Upon his very soles we fasten,
The black of night’s most dreadful race.

“And hopes he to escape by fleeing,
On wings we’re there, our nets ensnaring
Around his flying feet we throw,
That he is to the ground brought low.
So tiring never, him we follow,
Repentance ne’er can us appease,
Him on and on unto the Shadow
And give him even there no ease.”

So singing are they roundly dancing,
And silence like the hush of dying
Lies o’er the whole house heavily,
As if had neared the deity.
And solemnly, i’th’ custom aged,
The theater thus strolling round,
With footsteps lingering and gaugéd
They vanish in the hinterground.

And ’twixt deceit and truth still hovers
Each hesitating breast, and quivers
And homage pays to that dread might,
That judging watches hid from sight,
Inscrutably, and fathomlessly,
The darksome coil of fate entwines,
Proclaims what’s in the heart so deeply,
Yet runs from where the sunlight shines.

Then hears one from the highest footing
A voice which suddenly is crying:
“See there! See there, Timotheus,
Behold the cranes of Ibycus!”—
And suddenly the sky is dark’ning,
And o’er the theater away,
One sees, within a blackish swarming,
A host of cranes pass on its way.

“Of Ibycus!”—That name belovéd
Each breast with new grief hath affected,
As waves on waves in oceans rise,
From mouth to mouth it quickly flies:
“Of Ibycus, whom we are mourning,
Whom by a murd’rer’s hand was slain!
What is’t with him? What is his meaning?
And what is’t with this flock of crane?”

And louder still the question’s growing,
With lightning strikes it flies foreboding
Through every heart: “ ’Tis clear as light,
’Tis the Eumenides’ great might!
The poet’s vengeance is now granted,
The murderer hath self-confessed!
Be him, who spoke the word, arrested,
And him, to whom it was addressed!

But scarce the word had him departed,
Fain had he in his breast it guarded;
In vain! The mouth with horror white
Brings consciousness of guilt to light.
And ’fore the judge they’re apprehended,
The scene becomes the justice hall,
And guilty have the villains pleaded,
Struck by the vengeance beam they fall.

— translated by William F. Wertz, Jr.


Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 14 13:40
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Treffie
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Post: #23
RE: Post a Poem
My own (old fashioned, but full of sentiment)

This one is dedicated to my father who passed away in 2006.

Such great things once took for granted
The father's love for son begat
A simple man of great standing
A God to me, with whom I sat

A grain of sand, a speck of dust
Is really what I am
Compared to you, I sit aghast
This once fine, proud gentleman

How cruel it was that such a man
Should pass without ado
T'was you who had created us,
Unscathed you brought us through.

These steps I take are holy ground
The land where you were born
If I could be who you once were
This world I would adorn

Now I sit and reminisce
Of times that still hold dear
I know that I will never see
This man again, or hear.


And this one for my mother who died in 1999.

Quietly

Quietly, they welcomed you
In a world full of fear
How little you must have known
How much you'd see and hear

Quietly, you led your life
A lady in the making
With care of heart for troubled minds
You set those souls an aching

Quietly, you brought us here
To a lifetime full of bliss
You chose to hide your saddened side
As nothing seemed amiss

Quietly, you slipped away
A warm summer breeze
How wrong it was, the world still turned
That brought us to our knees

Quietly, we think of you
A decade has more than passed
People come and people go
Our memories will always last
2012 Sep 14 23:04
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Post: #24
RE: Post a Poem
GRIEF

An ancient enemy have I,
And either he or I must die;
For he never leaveth me,
Never gives my soul relief,
Never lets my sorrow cease,
Never gives my spirit peace—
For mine enemy is Grief!

Pale he is, and sad and stern;
And whene'er he cometh nigh,
Blue and dim the torches burn,
Pale and shrunk the roses turn;
While my heart that he has pierced
Many a time with fiery lance,
Beats and trembles at his glance:
Clad in burning steel is he,
All my strength he can defy;
For he never leaveth me—
And one of us must die!

I have said, "Let ancient sages
Charm me from my thoughts of pain!"
So I read their deepest pages,
And I strove to think—in vain!
Wisdom's cold calm words I tried,
But he was seated by my side:—
Learning I have won in vain;
She cannot rid me of my pain.

When at last soft sleep comes o'er me,
A cold hand is on my heart;
Stern sad eyes are there before me;
Not in dreams will he depart:
And when the same dreary vision
From my weary brain has fled,
Daylight brings the living phantom,
He is seated by my bed,
Bending o'er me all the while,
With his cruel, bitter smile,
Ever with me, ever nigh;—
And either he or I must die!

Then I said, long time ago,
"I will flee to other climes,
I will leave mine ancient foe!"
Though I wandered far and wide—
Still he followed at my side.

And I fled where the blue waters
Bathe the sunny isles of Greece;
Where Thessalian mountains rise
Up against the purple skies;
Where a haunting memory liveth
In each wood and cave and rill;
But no dream of gods could help me—
He went with me still!

I have been where Nile's broad river
Flows upon the burning sand;
Where the desert monster broodeth,
Where the Eastern palm-trees stand;
I have been where pathless forests
Spread a black eternal shade;
Where the lurking panther hiding
Glares from every tangled glade;
But in vain I wandered wide,
He was always by my side!
Then I fled where snows eternal
Cold and dreary ever lie;
Where the rosy lightnings gleam,
Flashing through the northern sky;
Where the red sun turns again
Back upon his path of pain;—
But a shadowy form was with me—
I had fled in vain!

I have thought, "If I can gaze
Sternly on him he will fade,
For I know that he is nothing
But a dim ideal shade."
As I gazed at him the more,
He grew stronger than before!

Then I said, "Mine arm is strong,
I will make him turn and flee:"
I have struggled with him long—
But that could never be!

Once I battled with him so
That I thought I laid him low;
Then in trembling joy I fled,
While again and still again
Murmuring to myself I said,
"Mine old enemy is dead!"
And I stood beneath the stars,
When a chill came on my frame,
And a fear I could not name,
And a sense of quick despair,
And, lo! mine enemy was there!

Listen, for my soul is weary,
Weary of its endless woe;
I have called on one to aid me
Mightier even than my foe.
Strength and hope fail day by day;
I shall cheat him of his prey;
Some day soon, I know not when,
He will stab me through and through;
He has wounded me before,
But my heart can bear no more;
Pray that hour may come to me,
Only then shall I be free;
Death alone has strength to take me
Where my foe can never be;
Death, and Death alone, has power
To conquer mine old enemy!



- Adelaide Ann Procter


Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 14 23:20
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Post: #25
RE: Post a Poem
Herbsttag

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.
Befiel den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.


Rainer Maria Rilke



Autumn Day

Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.

Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.




2nd translation by Stephen Mitchell:


AUTUMN DAY

Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander along the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.




This translation is by Doug Sutton:

Autumn Day

Lord: it's time. The summer was magnificent.
Lay your shadows upon the sun-dials
and o'er the isles allow your winds to vent.

Command the final fruits to be full and fine;
give them two more days in the southern sun,
push them to completion and then run
the last sweetness through the heavy wine.

He who now has no house, will build one never.
He who is alone, will long so remain,
will awaken, read, lengthy letters pen
and in the lanes will forever
restlessly wander, when the leaves are driven.




This translation is by J. Mullen:

Autumn Day

Lord: it is time. The summer was great.
Lay your shadows onto the sundials
and let loose the winds upon the fields.
Command the last fruits to be full,
give them yet two more southern days,
urge them to perfection, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Who now has no house, builds no more.
Who is now alone, will long remain so,
will stay awake, read, write long letters
and will wander restlessly here and there
in the avenues, when the leaves drift.




This translation is by Edward Snow 1991:

Autumn Day

Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your long shadows on the sundials,
and on the meadows let the winds go free.
Command the last fruits to be full;
give them just two more southern days,
urge them on to completion and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Who has no house now, will never build one.
Who is alone now, will long remain so,
will stay awake, read, write long letters
and will wander restlessly up and down
the tree-lines streets, when the leaves are drifting.


Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 24 12:56
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Phlegethon
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Post: #26
RE: Post a Poem
Herbst

Nun ist es Herbst, die Blätter fallen,
Den Wald durchbraust des Scheidens Weh;
Den Lenz und seine Nachtigallen
Versäumt ich auf der wüsten See.

Der Himmel schien so mild, so helle,
Verloren ging sein warmes Licht;
Es blühte nicht die Meereswelle,
Die rohen Winde sangen nicht.

Und mir verging die Jugend traurig,
Des Frühlings Wonne blieb versäumt;
Der Herbst durchweht mich trennungschaurig,
Mein Herz dem Tod entgegenträumt.


- Nikolaus Lenau


Autumn

The autumn came, the leaves are falling,
through woods resounds its parting plea;
when spring and nightingales were calling
I missed them on the lonely sea.

How once so bright were sky and hour
that now no longer solace bring:
the ocean's swells refused to flower,
the ocean's tempests did not sing.

So I have spent my young days grieving
and missing spring's enchanting breath;
the autumn sings the song of leaving:
my heart keeps dreaming towards its death.




AUTUMN
trans. Brian Cole

So now it's Autumn, leaves are falling,
through the woods the pain of parting raves;
and all the nightingales, and Spring
I missed, out on the barren waves.

The heavens looked so mild, bright blue,
but that warm light was no more there;
the ocean waves no longer bloomed,
the boisterous singing winds - nowhere!

And all my youth passed by sad-hearted,
the joy of Spring was never mine;
Autumn blows through me dread of parting,
and my heart dreams and longs to die.



Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 24 13:05
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Post: #27
RE: Post a Poem
Herbst

Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.

Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.

Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.

Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.


- Rainer Maria Rilke



Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as from far,
from wilting in the heavens' farthest gardens:
They're falling to negate the summer's mirth.
And in the nights the heavy Earth
falls into solitude from star to star.
We all are falling. This my hand here bends.
And look at others: Fall's in all their calling.
And yet there's One, who's holding all this falling
forever tender in His upturned hands...




Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."

And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.




Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 24 13:14
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RE: Post a Poem
Ludwig Tieck

Trauer
(1796)

Wie schnell verschwindet
So Licht als Glanz,
Der Morgen findet
Verwelkt den Kranz,

Der gestern glühte
In aller Pracht,
Denn er verblühte
In dunkler Nacht.

Es schwimmt die Welle
Des Lebens hin,
Und färbt sich helle,
Hat's nicht Gewinn;

Die Sonne neiget,
Die Röte flieht,
Der Schatten steiget
Und Dunkel zieht:

So schwimmt die Liebe
Zu Wüsten ab,
Ach! daß sie bliebe
Bis an das Grab!

Doch wir erwachen
Zu tiefer Qual;
Es bricht der Nachen,
Es löscht der Strahl,

Vom schönen Lande
Weit weggebracht
Zum öden Strande,
Wo um uns Nacht.



Sorrow

How soon the light fades:
So soon fades all glory.
Morning breaks and finds
A withered wreath

That yesterday bloomed
In all its splendour;
For it has faded
In the dark night.

The stream of life
Floats by.
It blushes brightly,
For its hopes are frustrated.

The sun declines;
The red blush is put to flight;
The shadow rises,
And darkness draws on.

So floats love
Into the wastelands,
Ah, that it might linger
Until the grave!

But we awaken
To deeper torment.
Our vessel founders;
The light is put out.

From the fair land
We are driven far far away
To a desolate shore
Where night surrounds us.



Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 26 13:32
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Post: #29
RE: Post a Poem
Verzweiflung

So tönet dann, schäumende Wellen,
Und windet euch rund um mich her!
Mag Unglück doch laut um mich bellen,
Erbost seyn das grausame Meer!

Ich lache den stürmenden Wettern,
Verachte den Zorngrimm der Fluth;
O mögen mich Felsen zerschmettern!
Denn nimmer wird es gut.

Nicht klag ich, und mag ich nun scheitern,
In wäßrigen Tiefen vergehn!
Mein Blick wird sich nie mehr erheitern,
Den Stern meiner Liebe zu sehn.

So wälzt euch bergab mit Gewittern,
Und raset, ihr Stürme, mich an,
Daß Felsen an Felsen zersplittern!
Ich bin ein verlorener Mann.


- Ludwig Tieck (1796)

Despair

Resound, then, O you foaming waves,
And twine yourselves about me here!
Let misfortune bark at me loudly;
Incensed be the cruel sea!

I laugh at the storm and the wind,
I scorn the wrath of the flood;
O, let the rocks dash me to pieces!
For I have been abandoned by all hope.

I will not complain, though my vessel founder
And I perish in the watery depths.
The light has gone out of my eyes:
The star of my love has been quenched.

Roll downhill with thunder and lightning
And rage at me, O you storms!
Let rock be shattered upon rock!
I am forlorn.


Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod,—
Nay, in oaks on woody hill
Lives and moves the German God.

2012 Sep 26 13:57
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RE: Post a Poem
A Dream

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?


Edgar Allan Poe

We must dissent.

[Image: 10494820_10152495444871387_2677074454375​72888_n.jpg]
2012 Sep 28 09:59
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