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| Page Views: 3,175 | Poetry by sinequanon - last update: Nov 27, 2005 |
"Whether you have written poems or not is less important than whether you have suffered, been impassioned or longed for what leads, by hook or by crook, to poetry. " Odysseus Elytis
Dear friends
I am a poetry addict. The purpose of this poetry album is not so much to introduce you to the poetry I like but to induce you to introduce me to poetry of your country, to poets I will probably never have the chance to come across and read.
So please feel free to propose any poets you think are worth reading or to send me any poems you like or have written yourself. I will be delighted! |
Frank Jaeger-My Absolute Favourite "As liberator I set forth to the smallest town I can find, and I am in
distress about how I shall liberate the people, and from what"
"To be a hen,
no one can find, where is.
Hiding in the depth of a garden,
Pecking at a red skinned berry.
to be a toy dog,
kissing a boy with shining eyes,
living in his friendly arms,
sleeping plentiful in his bed.
to be an apple,
blossoming in richness and taste.
Sucking passionately in the stalk,
letting go on a late summer day.
to be a tramp
Left on the rain-wet road.
Lonely, drunk and pitiful.
Such a tramp am I."
"Your sight got yellow fields to keep - now you own a longing for them"
translation Per (Denmark1964) |  | |
Konstantinos Kavafis-My First Poet ITHAKA
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find the things like that on your way
as long as you keep thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
DAYS OF 1903
I never found them again -- the things so quickly lost....
the poetic eyes, the pale
face.... in the dusk of the street....
I never found them again -- the things acquired quite by chance,
that I gave up so lightly;
and that later in agony I wanted.
The poetic eyes, the pale face,
those lips, I never found again. | | |
Pablo Neruda-My Tender Poet FABLE OF THE MERMAID AND THE DRUNKS
From: ?Estravagario?
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
?LEANING INTO THE AFTERNOON?
VII From:? Veinte poemas de amor?
Leaning into the afternoon, I cast my saddened nets,
towards your oceanic eyes.
There, in the highest fire, my solitude unrolls and ignites,
arms flailing like a drowning man?s.
I send out crimson flares across your distant eyes,
that swell like the waves, at the base of a lighthouse.
You only guard darkness, far-off woman of mine,
from your gaze the shore of trepidation sometimes emerges.
Leaning towards the afternoon, I fling my saddened nets,
into the sea, your eyes of ocean trouble.
The night-birds peck at the early stars,
that glitter as my soul does, while it loves you.
The night gallops, on its mare of shadows,
spilling blue silken tassels of corn, over the fields. | | |
Odysseas Elytis-My Greek Poet "I LIVED THE BELOVED NAME...?
I lived the beloved name
In the shade of the aged olive tree
In the roaring of the lifelong sea
Those who stoned me live no longer
With their stones I built a fountain
To its brink green girls come
Their lips descend from the dawn
Their hair unwinds far into the future
Swallows come, infants of the wind
They drink, they fly, so that life goes on
The threat of the dream becomes a dream
Pain rounds the good cape
No voice is lost in the breast of the sky
O deathless sea, tell what you are whispering
I reach your morning mouth early
On the peak where your love appears
I see the will of the night spilling stars
The will of the day nipping the earth?s shoots
I saw a thousand wild lilies on the meadows of life
A thousand children in the true wind
Beautiful strong children who breathe out kindness
And know how to gaze at the deep horizons
When music raises the islands
I carved the beloved name
In the shade of the aged olive tree
In the roaring of the lifelong sea.
? Translation: Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard
From: Sun the first
"DRINKING THE SUN OF CORINTH..."
Drinking the sun of Corinth
Reading the marble ruins
Striding across vineyards and seas
Sighting along the harpoon
A votive fish that slips away
I found the leaves that the sun?s psalm memorizes
The living land that passion joys in opening.
I drink water, cut fruit,
Thrust my hand into the wind?s foliage
The lemon trees water the summer pollen
The green birds tear my dreams
I leave with a glance
A wide glance in which the world is recreated
Beautiful from the beginning to the dimensions of the heart!
? Translation: Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard
From: Sun the first
"I was given the Hellenic tongue
my house a humble one on the sandy shores of Homer.
My only care my tongue on the sandy shores of Homer.
The sea-bream and perch
windbeaten verbs
green currents with the cerulean
all that I saw blazing in my entrails
sponges, medusae
with the first words of the Sirens
pink shells with their first dark tremors."
(from Axion Esti, 1959) | | |
Fernando Pessoa YOUR EYES GO SAD
Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.
I tell what I've told, out of listless
Sadness, so often before ...
I think you never listened,
So youraway you are.
All of a sudden, an absent
Stare, you look at me, still
Immeasurably distant,
You begin a smile.
I go on talking. You
Go on listening - your own
Thoughts you listen to,
The smile as good as gone,
Until, through the loafing
Afternoon's waste of while,
The silence self-unleafing
Of your useless smile.
(29.10.1935)
'Selected Poems' translated from Fernando Pessoa by J.Griffin. | | |
Matsuo Basho-the haiku master "Will you start a fire?
I'll show you something nice -
A huge snowball."
"Kimi hi o take
Yoki mono misen
Yukimaroge"
"Should I hold it in my hand
It would melt in my burning tears -Autumnal frost."
"Te ni toraba
Kien namida zo atsuki
Aki no shimo"
"Myriads of things past
Are brought to my mind -
These cherry blossoms!"
"Samazama no
Koto omoidasu
Sakura kana" | | |
Siddharth Dasgupta-my favourite young poet Still
In the still of early morning light
People who might have passed for strangers
Seem oddly familiar... oddly elegant
... oddly reconciled to a forgiving past.
In the still of early morning light
Pale, tattered fragments of paper float by
Perhaps intent on reaching a final resting-place
... but they all drift away so fast.
In the still of an early morning's light
We once had met, as friends
... warmed by the thrill of an impending journey
Beneath the shade of rampant jasmine.
In the still of early morning light
Evidence dries up like blood
... seemingly destined for the earth
... and there's no explanation for what's just been.
check out more of his poetry Siddha3th | | |
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 Comments for sinequanon about World | | | | |
Princess_Emily Tue Sep 1, 2009 15:39 UTC
Happy 1st of September. There are still a few days of summer to be enjoyed, so get up and get going :-) umm looks like your already gone. | Sharon Wed Jan 28, 2009 18:40 UTC
Happy Belated birthday Galatea ! Hope you had a good one and wishing you a great year :-) (Sorry for being late). | aadil Mon Jan 19, 2009 17:41 UTC
A belated but very Happy Birthday to you!!! Bravo!!! You sure are a brave damsel to save all those birds & give them the gift of freedom!! We need more people like you on this planet!! May all your travel & birdwatching dreams come true!! | TheView Fri Jan 16, 2009 23:40 UTC
Tillykke med fødselsdagen :-D I hope you have a great new year ahead of you .. kisss and hugisss Allan |
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