classic poetry
Afternoon on a hill
POSTED IN classic poetry March 23, 2012
Afternoon on a hill
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Happy birthday!
POSTED IN classic poetry January 17, 2012
Celebrate
Celebrate our anniversary – can’t you see
tonight the snowy night of our first winter
comes back again in every road and tree –
that winter night of diamantine splendour.Steam is pouring out of yellow stables,
the Moika river’s sinking under snow,
the moonlight’s misted as it is in fables,
and where we are heading – I don’t know.There are icebergs on the Marsovo Pole.
The Lebyazh’ya’s crazed with crystal art…..
Whose soul can compare with my soul,
if joy and fear are in my heart? –And if your voice, a marvellous bird’s,
quivers at my shoulder, in the night,
and the snow shines with a silver light,
warmed by a sudden ray, by your words?
Anna Akhmatova
Happy birthday!
POSTED IN classic poetry January 17, 2012
Do notDo not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
A THICK RED LINE / O LINIE ROȘIE GROASĂ
POSTED IN classic poetry January 10, 2012
A THICK RED LINE / O LINIE ROȘIE GROASĂA lamb escaped from me
and I sent the wolf to bring it back.
such lambs loiter about the forest,
and leave droppings where I like to watch the valley.
I am afraid something might happen to the wolf.
There are many fugitive lambs
very few such faithful wolves.
Years pass before you train them
not to look you in the eyes
but at your hands.I’ve read in an encyclopedia
how many people were killed in Auschwitz.
Like lambs.
Later I read a book about the same camp
but 308 victims were missing from the list.Between those two books
my wolf treads in the deep snow
and draws a thick red line with his tail,
contentedly sniffing the air.
The spring is coming again
when the snow melts as fast as memory
and lambs feel the urge to escape.Goran SIMIC
……………….
O LINIE ROȘIE GROASĂ
Mi-a scăpat un miel
și am trimis lupul să-l aducă înapoi.
Astfel de miei hoinaresc prin pădure,
și lasă cacareze acolo unde îmi place să privesc valea.
Mi-e teamă că lupul ar putea păți ceva.
Sunt mulți miei fugari
și foarte puțini astfel de lupi credincioși.
Iti ia ani sa-i dresezi
să nu se uite în ochii tăi
ci la mâinile tale.Am citit într-o enciclopedie
câți oameni au fost uciși la Auschwitz.
Precum mieii.
Mai târziu am citit o carte despre același lagăr
dar din listă lipseau 308 victime.Între cele două cărți
lupul meu calcă prin zăpada adâncă
și trasează cu coada o linie roșie și groasă,
adulmecând mulțumit aerul.
Primăvara se apropie din nou
când zăpada se topește la fel de repede precum amintirea
și mieii simt nevoia să evadeze.trad. M. M. Biela
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
POSTED IN classic poetry January 10, 2012
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
