classic poetry

Chopin

POSTED IN classic poetry February 27, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chopin

I
A dream of interlinking hands, of feet
Tireless to spin the unseen, fairy woof
Of the entangling waltz. Bright eyebeams meet,
Gay laughter echoes from the vaulted roof.
Warm perfumes rise; the soft unflickering glow
Of branching lights sets off the changeful charms
Of glancing gems, rich stuffs, the dazzling snow
Of necks unkerchieft, and bare, clinging arms.
Hark to the music! How beneath the strain
Of reckless revelry, vibrates and sobs
One fundamental chord of constant pain,
The pulse-beat of the poet’s heart that throbs.
So yearns, though all the dancing waves rejoice,
The troubled sea’s disconsolate, deep voice.

II

Who shall proclaim the golden fable false
Of Orpheus’ miracles? This subtle strain
Above our prose-world’s sordid loss and gain
Lightly uplifts us. With the rhythmic waltz,
The lyric prelude, the nocturnal song
Of love and languor, varied visions rise,
That melt and blend to our enchanted eyes.
The Polish poet who sleeps silenced long,
The seraph-souled musician, breathes again
Eternal eloquence, immortal pain.
Revived the exalted face we know so well,
The illuminated eyes, the fragile frame,
Slowly consuming with its inward flame,
We stir not, speak not, lest we break the spell.

III

A voice was needed, sweet and true and fine
As the sad spirit of the evening breeze,
Throbbing with human passion, yet devine
As the wild bird’s untutored melodies.
A voice for him ‘neath twilight heavens dim,
Who mourneth for his dead, while round him fall
The wan and noiseless leaves. A voice for him
Who sees the first green sprout, who hears the call
Of the first robin on the first spring day.
A voice for all whom Fate hath set apart,
Who, still misprized, must perish by the way,
Longing with love, for that they lack the art
Of their own soul’s expression. For all these
Sing the unspoken hope, the vague, sad reveries.

IV

Then Nature shaped a poet’s heart–a lyre
From out whose chords the lightest breeze that blows
Drew trembling music, wakening sweet desire.
How shall she cherish him? Behold! she throws
This precious, fragile treasure in the whirl
Of seething passions; he is scourged and stung,
Must dive in storm-vext seas, if but one pearl
Of art or beauty therefrom may be wrung.
No pure-browed pensive nymph his Muse shall be,
An amazon of thought with sovereign eyes,
Whose kiss was poison, man-brained, worldy-wise,
Inspired that elfin, delicate harmony.
Rich gain for us! But with him is it well?
The poet who must sound earth, heaven, and hell!
 
 
Emma Lazarus

Trees

POSTED IN classic poetry December 12, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trees
 

 

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

 

Joyce Kilmer

Erotessa

POSTED IN classic poetry, translated Finnish-English September 11, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Erotessa

Muistelen minä sinua:
satakielet soittelevat
yössäni hämärtyvässä.

Muistelet sinä minua:
lepinkäiset lentelevät
pääsi päälle istumahan.

Muistelemme toisiamme:
kaksi kaunista kesällä
kesälehti kolmantena.

Eino Leino

 

Apart

Remember you, love at first sight,
nightingales sing in empty soul
in darkness of my empty night.

Remember me, love at first sight,
shrikes fly in legends of the fall
and sit on your head in light.

We are remembering each other
two beautiful in summer time
a summer leaf – three summer chime.

 

translated by Maria Magdalena Biela

Me thinks this heart should rest awhile

POSTED IN classic poetry July 30, 2014

The Only News I Know

POSTED IN classic poetry July 30, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The only news I know

 

The only news I know

Is bulletins all day

From immortality:

The only shows I see

Tomorrow and today.

Perchance eternity.

The only one I meet

Is God, the only street

Existence; this traversed.

If other news there be

Or admirabler show,

I’ll tell it you.

 

Emily Dickinson

Óyeme como quien ove llover

POSTED IN classic poetry May 7, 2014

 

 

Óyeme como quien ove llover

Óyeme como quien oye llover,
ni atenta ni distraída,
pasos leves, llovizna,
agua que es aire,
aire que es tiempo,
el día no acaba de irse,
la noche no llega todavía,
figuraciones de la niebla
al doblar la esquina,
figuraciones del tiempo
en el recodo de esta pausa,
óyeme como quien oye llover.

Sin oírme, oyendo lo que digo
con los ojos abiertos hacia adentro,
dormida con los cinco sentidos despiertos,
llueve, pasos leves, rumor de sílabas,
aire y agua, palabras que no pesan:
lo que fuimos y somos,
los días y los años, este instante,
tiempo sin peso, pesadumbre enorme,
óyeme como quien oye llover,
relumbra el asfalto húmedo,
el vaho se levanta y camina,
la noche se abre y me mira,
eres tú y tu talle de vaho,
tú y tu cara de noche,
tú y tu pelo, lento relámpago,
cruzas la calle y entras en mi frente,
pasos de agua sobre mis párpados,
óyeme como quien oye llover,
el asfalto relumbra, tú cruzas la calle,
es la niebla errante en la noche,
como quien oye llover.

Es la noche dormida en tu cama,
es el oleaje de tu respiración,
tus dedos de agua mojan mi frente,
tus dedos de llama queman mis ojos,
tus dedos de aire abren los párpados del tiempo,
manar de apariciones y resurrecciones,
óyeme como quien oye llover,
pasan los años, regresan los instantes,
¿oyes tus pasos en el cuarto vecino?
no aquí ni allá: los oyes
en otro tiempo que es ahora mismo,
oye los pasos del tiempo
inventor de lugares sin peso ni sitio,
oye la lluvia correr por la terraza,
la noche ya es más noche en la arboleda,
en los follajes ha anidado el rayo,
vago jardín a la deriva
entra, tu sombra cubre esta página.

 

 

 

Octavio Paz

The Phantom Horsewoman

POSTED IN classic poetry May 1, 2014

 

 

 

The Phantom Horsewoman

Queer are the ways of a man I know:
He comes and stands
In a careworn craze,
And looks at the sands
And in the seaward haze
With moveless hands
And face and gaze,
Then turns to go…
And what does he see when he gazes so?

They say he sees as an instant thing
More clear than today,
A sweet soft scene
That once was in play
By that briny green;
Yes, notes alway
Warm, real, and keen,
What his back years bring-
A phantom of his own figuring.

Of this vision of his they might say more:
Not only there
Does he see this sight,
But everywhere
In his brain-day, night,
As if on the air
It were drawn rose bright-
Yea, far from that shore
Does he carry this vision of heretofore:

A ghost-girl-rider. And though, toil-tried,
He withers daily,
Time touches her not,
But she still rides gaily
In his rapt thought
On that shagged and shaly
Atlantic spot,
And as when first eyed
Draws rein and sings to the swing of the tide.

 

 

 

Thomas Hardy

I started Early – Took my Dog

POSTED IN classic poetry April 30, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I started Early – took my Dog-

I started Early – Took my Dog –
And visited the Sea –
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me –

And Frigates – in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands –
Presuming Me to be a Mouse –
Aground – upon the Sands –

But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe –
And past my Apron – and my Belt
And past my Bodice – too –

And made as He would eat me up –
As wholly as a Dew
Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve –
And then – I started – too –

And He – He followed – close behind –
I felt His Silver Heel
Upon my Ankle – Then my Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl –

Until We met the Solid Town –
No One He seemed to know –
And bowing – with a Mighty look –
At me – The Sea withdrew –

 

 

Emily Dickinson

Go and catch a falling star

POSTED IN classic poetry April 30, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Go and catch a falling star

Go and catch a falling star,
    Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
    Or who cleft the devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
            And find
            What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be’st born to strange sights,
    Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
    Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
            And swear,
            No where
Lives a woman true, and fair.

If thou find’st one, let me know,
    Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
    Though at next door we might meet;
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
            Yet she
            Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.

 

 

 

 John Donne

Comin’ thro’ the Rye

POSTED IN classic poetry April 21, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comin’ thro’ the Rye                                               

O, Jenny’s a’ weet, poor body,                
Jenny’s seldom dry;                                 
She draigl’t a’ her petticoattie                   
Comin thro’ the rye.                                

Comin thro the rye, poor body,             
Comin thro the rye,                               
She draigl’t a’her petticoatie,                  
Comin thro the rye!                              

Gin a body meet a body                         
Comin thro the rye,                          
Gin a body kiss a body,                         
Need a body cry?                             

Comin thro the rye, poor body,             
Comin thro the rye,                               
She draigl’t a’her petticoatie,                   
Comin thro the rye!                                

Gin a body meet a body                         
Comin thro the glen,               
Gin a body kiss a body,                        
Need the warld ken?                             

Comin thro the rye, poor body,              
Comin thro the rye,                               
She draigl’t a’her petticoatie,                  
Comin thro the rye!     

 

 

Robert Burns

 

                          

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