classic poetry
O Fortuna!
POSTED IN classic poetry July 12, 2015
O Fortuna,
velut luna,
statu variabilis,
semper crescis,
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem,
potestatem,
dissolvit ut glaciem.Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata
et velata
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.Sors salutis
et virtutis
michi nunc contraria,
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
Hac in hora
sine mora
corde pulsum tangite;
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!
Casida de la rosa
POSTED IN classic poetry July 12, 2015
Casida de la rosaLa rosa
no buscaba la aurora:
Casi eterna en su ramo
buscaba otra cosa.La rosa
no buscaba ni ciencia ni sombra:
Confín de carne y sueño
buscaba otra cosa.La rosa
no buscaba la rosa:
Inmóvil por el cielo
¡buscaba otra cosa!
Federico Garcia Lorca
Marina Tsvetaeva
POSTED IN classic poetry July 12, 2015
Terminal SilhouetteI know you not and in no way
I want to lose starry illusions
With such a face in worst confusion
People are loyal to a ray.All that the fate has marked for grave
Have such closed-off face instead.
You are a page that was not read
And no, you will not be a slave.A slave with such a face? Oh no!
There is no error here by chance.
Your slender figure and your glance
Will be secret to many, I know.A heavy bracelet of your hair
Under the thrown-over scarf
(You’d do with guitar or a harp)
And your pale face, as pale as air.I know you not. And possibly
You’re kind and moderate like all.
Maybe! May these be ravings all!
For only raving ones may be!Perhaps the day is not so far
When I will fathom what’s unseemly…
But this to err – it is so relieving!
It is so easy yet to err!Touching the scarf with a light hand,
There where the whistles shrilly blow.
This is the you that I will know
Where you just like a riddle stand.………………………………………………………………..
Lady with Camelias
Your whole way with shining evil’s coal
Margaret, they all do bravely judge.
What’s your fault? The body sinned as such,
Innocent you have retained your soul.To all people it’s the same, I know,
To all nodded with a blurry smile.
And with this sorrowful semi-smile
You have wept yourself long time ago.Who will know? Whose hand will help along?
No exception to the rule, one thing entrances!
They eternally await embraces,
They eternally await, “I’m thirsty! Be my own!”Day and night the bane of false confessions..
Day and night, tomorrow, and once more!
Spoke more eloquently than the word
Your dark glance, the martyr’s dark expression.The accursed ring is growing narrow,
On the goddess of the world avenges fate..
Smiling childishly, into your face
A young tender boy glances with sorrow.The entire world is saved by love!
In but her salvation and defense is.
All’s in love. O Margaret, sleep in peace.
All’s in love. I’m saved because I love.…………………………………………………………………
To Mother
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets,
And are drunk on nearness of the end.
All, with which on better nights we’re wealthy
Is put in the hearts by your own hand.Bowing to a child’s dreams with no tire.
(Only crescent looked in them indeed
Without you)! You have led your kids past
Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds.From the early age the sad one’s close to us,
Laughter bores and home we left behind..
Our ship not in good times left the harbor
And it sails by will of every wind!Azure isle of childhood is paling,
On the deck of ship we stand alone.
It appears, oh mother, to your daughters
You’ve left an inheritance of woe.……………………………………………………………….
Books in Red Binding
From heaven of a childhood life
A farewell to me you’re sending,
The ever-loyal dear friends
Within a red worn down binding.
On learning homework from school,
At once I ran to see you yet.
“It’s late” – “Please, Mother, ten more lines” –
But happily she did forget.
The fires flicker in a lamp..
How nice it is to read at home!
To sounds of Greeg, Schumann and Kui
I learned about the fate of Tom.
It’s dark.. the air is growing cold..
Tom’s full of faith in Becky’s joy.
Within the darkness of the cave
Wanders with torch Indian Joe..
A cemetery.. owl is screaming..
(I’m scared) And now through hassocks flies
The punctilious widow’s foster-child,
Like in a barrel Diogenes.
Lighter than Sun is the throne hall,
Over the graceful boy – a crown..
At once – a beggar! God! He said:
“Forgive, I’m heir to the throne.”
To darkness comes, who comes from her.
Sad is the destiny of Britain..
O, wherefore not amid red books
Not to go back to sleep again
Before a lamp? O golden times
Where sight is braver, heart is purer:
O golden times, I say again:
Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Prince and Beggar!……………………………………………………………………
New Moon
Over meadow stands new moon,
Over boundary of dew.
Come, we’ll make a friend of you,
Dear, distant, alien.In the day I hide, am quiet.
Moon above – I have no might!
I rush on this lunar night
To the shoulder of beloved.I’ll never ask me, “Who’s he?”
All to know, your lips will say!
Hugs are rude but in the day,
In the day the fit is funny.In the day, torn by a demon proud,
With a smile on lips I lie.
Night, though.. Darling, far away..
Crescent stands above the wood!…………………………………………………………………………..
Contact through Dreams
All’s for a moment, that people create,
Glimmer of new things dims,
But yet unaltered, like sorrow, remains
Contact through dreams.Calming.. If but to forget.. but to sleep..
Sweetness of eyelids over eyes..
Dreams open fates of the future, and bind
For centuries.All that I stealthily thought, is to me
Clear like a crystal clean.
Us, with a timeless and endless riddle,
United the dream.I do not pray, “O God, make to vanish
Torment of coming day!”
Oh no, “Oh God, send to him about me
A dream,” I pray.May I get pale at the meeting with you –
Sorrowful is it to meet!
Secret is one: The contact through dreams. We are
Powerless before it.X X X
Azure are the fields, where our dreaming had met.
Don’t rush my memory!
Be truthful: Anew you’ll touch the silver cup
Not soon with a one such as me.All’s destroyed, not by our volition. And sweet
Is the sigh over lost heaven! May be! –
You’re all – May’s! For you is my sorrow of May.
All that’s dreamed of in May is for thee.Here we don’t need to rendezvous. Truly, we’ll meet
Where the truth with the truth I shall meet;
Every evening on bridges shaky and light
We come out one another to greet.A familiar figure I’ll see from afar –
Heart beats rarely, then frequently, though…
Like before you’re not wrathful, not vengeful, oh no!
And your eyes are the same, full of woe.These are dreams. To us both the night is still dear,
Bravely breaking all barriers so.
But the image of her that could not lie, my friend,
Once awakened, don’t chase like a foe.And when he will appear in the evening shade
Under call of a previous song,
Nod to happiness that has elapsed with a smile
And recall without rage the one gone.……………………………………………………………………………………………
Except for Love
Did not love, did not weep. Oh no, did not love, but regardless
I have showed in the shadows the beloved likeness to you.
In our sleep all things did not appear like love:
No cause, no clues.From the evening hall only to us nodded this image,
Only we – you and me – to it pitiful verses bore.
What has bound us stronger than love has bound others
Is that we adore.But the gust was escaped, and tenderly somebody approached,
He who could not have prayed, but did love. To judge do not hurry!
Like the most tender note in awakening of the soul
You’re memorable to me.In this sorrowful soul you had wandered, like in open house..
(In our house, in the spring)… Forgotten don’t call me!
All my minutes are filled with you, except for love –
The most melancholy.Marina Tsvetaeva
Anna Achmatova
POSTED IN classic poetry July 12, 2015
1911
A riding whip, a glove wait on the table
God knows why. Who left them there?
One window’s open a little
I hear the linden rustle.They seem to call me.
Why did you leave? I
can’t understand it. Why?
The desk lamp’s cosy circle-it focuses the pain, it lets me see again
two people shielded from the world
by love’s illusion: if it lasts we can’t die.
Think of us. Who were we?Tomorrow morning’s light will soothe me
like a warm hand. I know it.
I know this life is good.
Heart, don’t worry-Last night I could barely hear
that hesitant, aching plea you’ve begun to make
I was reading in an old book
that souls are immortal.Anna Achmatova
Celestial love
POSTED IN classic poetry July 12, 2015
Celestial loveO mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes
When perfect peace in thy fair face I found;
But far within, where all is holy ground,
My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:
For she was born with God in Paradise;
Nor all the shows of beauty shed around
This fair false world her wings to earth have bound:
Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies.
Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire
Of deathless spirits; nor eternity
Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare.
Not love but lawless impulse is desire:
That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair
Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high.Michelangelo Buonarroti
Hay almas que tienen
POSTED IN classic poetry July 11, 2015
Hay almas que tienenHay almas que tienen
azules luceros,
mañanas marchitas
entre hojas del tiempo,
y castos rincones
que guardan un viejo
rumor de nostalgias
y sueños.Otras almas tienen
dolientes espectros
de pasiones. Frutas
con gusanos. Ecos
de una voz quemada
que viene de lejos
como una corriente
de sombra. Recuerdos
vacíos de llanto
y migajas de besos.
Mi alma está madura
hace mucho tiempo,
y se desmorona
turbia de misterio.
Piedras juveniles
roídas de ensueño
caen sobre las aguas
de mis pensamientos.
Cada piedra dice:
“¡Dios está muy lejos!”
Federico García Lorca
Lettera a mia figlia sugli uomini
POSTED IN classic poetry July 10, 2015
Lettera a mia figlia sugli uomini
Gli uomini, ti dicevo.
Amali, ma senza farti troppo male.
Amali, senza mai mancarti di rispetto.
Sono tremendamente imperfetti, credimi, a volte sono rozzi,
spesso non trovano le parole, anzi stanno semplicemente troppo zitti,
quando tu avverti il desiderio di essere inondata di verbi,
sostantivi e aggettivi o vorresti che usassero l’infallibile intelligenza del cuore
piuttosto che la labile ragionevolezza della mente.
Amali perché sono fragili, anche quando esibiscono muscoli da palestra,
comprendi, senza tradire te stessa, la loro frugalita d’animo:
e solo timidezza, a volte, e maschera implacabili menti matematiche
che non apprezzano la bellezza del caos.
Prova a giustificarli
se non riescono a essere ragionevolmente indipendenti come siamo noi.
Il loro cruccio e che non sanno maneggiare i sentimenti,
e perdonali se pronunciano raramente l’invocato “ti amo”:
non hanno letto abbastanza poesie.
Sii sempre loro amica e te ne saranno grati.
Sorridi, tollerante, quando ti accorgi che mentono sapendo di mentire:
l’ironia delle donne e un’arma della quale non conoscono la sottile arguzia,
l’alleanza femminile li sconcerta, la generosita li meraviglia.
Regala loro dei romanzi: nella buona letteratura sono racchiuse le migliori risposte.
Spiega loro il coraggio e la lealta,
la potenza di un abbraccio e il languore di una carezza fra i capelli.
Infine sposali, se sanno cucinare
e solo quando avranno imparato
ad asciugare quella lacrima sul ciglio dei tuoi occhi fieri
Paola Calvetti
Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvas
POSTED IN classic poetry July 8, 2015
Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvasInsomnia. Homer. Taut canvas
Half the catalogue of ships is mine:
that flight of cranes, long stretched-out line,
that once rose, out of Hellas.To an alien land, like a phalanx of cranes –
Foam of the gods on the heads of kings –
Where do you sail? What would the things
of Troy, be to you, Achaeans, without Helen?The sea, or Homer – all moves by love’s glow.
Which should I hear? Now Homer is silent,
and the Black Sea thundering its oratory, turbulent,
and, surging, roars against my pillow.Osip Mandelstam
Gipsy Vans
POSTED IN classic poetry July 8, 2015
Gipsy VansUnless you come of the Gipsy stock
That steals by night and day,
Lock your heart with a double lock
And throw the key away.
Bury it under the blackest stone
Beneath your father’s hearth,
And keep your eyes on your lawful own
And your feet to the proper path.
Then you can stand at your door and mock
When the Gipsy vans come through…
For it isn’t right that the Gorgio stock
Should live as the Romany do.Unless you come of the gipsy blood
That takes and never spares,
Bide content with your given good
And follow your own affairs.
Plough and harrow and roll your land,
And sow what ought to be sowed;
But never let loose your heart from your hand,
Nor flitter it down the road!
Then you can thrive on your boughten food
As the gipsy vans come through…
For it isn’t nature the Gorgio blood
Should love as the Romany do.Unless you carry the Gipsy eyes
That see but seldom weep,
Keep your head from the naked skies
Or the stars’ll trouble your sleep.
Watch your moon through your window-pane
And take what weather she brews;
But don’t run out in the midnight rain
Nor home in the morning dews.
Then you can huddle and shut your eyes
As the gipsy vans come through…
For it isn’t fitting the Gorgio ryes
Should walk as the Romany do.Unless you come of the ipsy race
That counts all time the same,
Be you careful of Time and Place
And Judgment and Good Name:
Lose your life for to live your life
The way that you ought to do;
And when you are finished, your God and your wife
And the Gipsies’ll laugh at you!
Then you can rot in your burying place
As the gipsy vans come through…
For it isn’t reason the Gorgio race
Should die as the Romany do.By Rudyard Kipling
Happy birthday, Hilja Onerva Lehtinen!
POSTED IN classic poetry, Spring, translated Finnish-English, translated Finnish-Romanian April 28, 2015
Tropiikin alla
Yhden kerran elämässä tuliruusu aukee
yhden yön se kukoistaa ja aamulla jo raukee
sill’ on syvä silmänluonti, kutsuva ja kuuma
sill’ on hehkuheteillänsä keskiöiden huumaSill’ on lehti verinen ja purppurainen huuli
sill’ on tuoksu huumava kuin kevätaron tuuli.
Taita tulikukkanen ja juo sen kuuma mesi
elä hetki, nauti hetki, kaadu paikallesi!
Hilja Onerva Lehtinen
At Tropics
Only once in a lifetime the fire-rose opens eyes
only for a night it blossoms and by morning dies
for one night it has a deep glance, calling through the fire
for one night its glowing stamens have midnight’s desire.For one night a bloody petal and a purple lip,
its intoxicating fragrance, springtime’s windy steppe,
break away the burning flower, drink its essence fever
Live a moment, carpe diem and then die forever !
La Tropice
Un moment in asta viata roza de foc e in floare,
doar o noapte infloreste,pana dimineata moare;
isi deschide ochi adanci si chematori in soapte,
in stamine-are extazul miezului de noapte.Are sangerie frunza, buze purpurii,
parfum orfic, vantul stepei verilor pustii.
Frange infocata floare, bea-i din trup esenta,
Fii si bucura-te-o clipa, uita-ti existenta!
Happy Eternity on your birthday, Hilja Onerva Lehtinen, the Fire Rose of Finnish poetry
Romanian and English versions by Maria Magdalena Biela
