Category Archives: Poetry

Haiku:  Memories (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Memories

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Like clothes on clotheslines

Washed off a little each time:

Memories drying.

Watch “Strangers In The Night – Frank Sinatra (LYRICS/LETRA) [60s]” on YouTube


Frank Sinatra Lyrics

Listen to music like Frank Sinatra

live near Downey

“Something”

Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover
Something in the way that she woos me
Don’t want to leave her now
Better believe, and how

Somewhere in her smile she knows
I don’t need no other lover
Something in her style that shows me
Don’t want to leave her now
Better believe, and how

You’re asking me will my love grow
Well, I don’t know, no, I don’t know
You stick around, Jack, it might show
I don’t know, no, I don’t know

Something in the way she knows
All I gotta do is just think of her
Something in the things that she shows me
Don’t want to leave her now
Better believe, and how

[instrumental]

You’re asking me will my love grow
I don’t know, no, I don’t know
But you hang around, Jack, it might show
I don’t know, no, I don’t know

Something in the way she knows me
And all I gotta do is just think of her
Something in those things that she shows me
Don’t want to leave her now
Better believe, and how

Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, mm

I don’t plan to leave her now

Haiku: Haiku def.(noun) (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Haiku def. (noun)

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Five syllables words

Seven syllables follow

End… as it started.

Haiku

Haiku

Haiku

Haiku

Thank You: to all followers of euzicasa! I promise all and each and everyone of you a great time while visiting this website!


Thank You: to all followers of euzicasa! I promise all and each and everyone of you a great time while  visiting this website!

Thank You: to all followers of euzicasa! I promise all and each and everyone of you a great time while visiting this website!

Dr. Gabi Greve, Daruma Museum, Japan World Kigo Database


! Haiku and Happiness ! (02)

To enjoy on a rainy day !
To enjoy on a sunny day !

My Haiku Gallery of Life in Japan

All Haiku and Photos are Copyright © by Gabi Greve, unless quoted otherwise.

Dr. Gabi Greve, Daruma Museum, Japan
World Kigo Database


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      disaster in Japan – plum petals scattered on a stone . Japan – after the BIG earthquake   March 11, 2011 …
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Calligraphy: Daruma Museum Gallery


https://darumamuseumgallery.blogspot.com/2007/07/calligraphy.html?m=1

Calligraphy


[ . BACK to DARUMA MUSEUM TOP . ]

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Daruma Pilgrims Gallery

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Calligraphy , shodoo 書道 Shodo

The Way of the Brush


Child prodigy Minamoto no Shigeyuki executing calligraphy

源成之の席書

Torii Kiyonaga (1752–1815)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
East Asian calligraphy

Asian calligraphy typically uses ink brushes to write Chinese characters
(called Hanzi in Chinese, Hanja in Korean, Kanji in Japanese, and Hán
Tu in Vietnamese). Calligraphy (in Chinese, Shufa 書法, in Korean, Seoye
書藝, in Japanese Shodō 書道, all meaning “the way of
writing”) is considered an important art in East Asia and the most
refined form of East Asian painting.

© Read more in the WIKIPEDIA

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
77 Dances: Japanese Calligraphy by Poets, Monks, and Scholars, 1568-1868


Stephen Addis

– source – Shambhala Publications

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Dragon Horse Temple 龍馬山

. Yoshitsune Temple Gikeiji at Minmaya

「義経寺」(ぎけいじ) 三厩村 .


. Dragon Calligraphy .

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tanchu Terayama and Zen Calligraphy: Hitsuzendo

“Dragon” Calligraphy by Yamaoka Tesshu

Scrolls with Daruma, many with calligraphy

Inkstone, 翡翠硯(すずり) suzuri with Daruma face !

Literally “The Way of Writing” – – –

All about Calligraphy by Mark Schumacher !

History of Japanese ink painting

source : www.ink-treasures.com

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
– quote –

Four Treasures of the Study 文房四宝

Four Jewels of the Study or Four Friends of the Study

is an expression used to denote the brush, ink, paper and ink stone used
in Chinese and other East Asian calligraphic traditions. The name
appears to originate in the time of the Southern and Northern Dynasties
(420-589 AD).

– Brush, Ink, Paper, Inkstone

– – – More in the WIKIPEDIA !
. Doing Business in Edo - 江戸の商売 .


hitsuboku uri 筆墨売り selling brushes and ink

two of the four treasures

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Artists involved in beyondcalligraphy.com project are members of the All Japan Organization of Calligraphy Art and Literature (全日本書芸文化院, Zen Nihon Shogei Bunkain) which has a long tradition and utmost respect here in Japan.

We are also members of Shosoin (書宗院), a calligraphy organization devoted
to the study and research of Chinese and Japanese calligraphy, founded
by grand master calligrapher Kuwahara Suihou (桑原翠邦) who was the most
talented pupil of grand master Hidai Tenrai (比田井天来), often called “the
father of modern calligraphy”. Grand master Hidai Tenrai was an
initiator of avant-garde calligraphy in Japan, a trend that has had
great influence not only on Chinese artists and calligraphers but also
modern abstract painters, sculptors, etc., all over the world.

source : www.beyond-calligraphy.com

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“Frog and calligrapher”

Tsukioka (Taiso) Yoshitoshi

Ono no Tōfū (894-966) Ono no Doofu, Ono no Dofu, Ono no Tofu
quote

Ono no Michikaze or Ono no Tōfū 小野 道風

(894 – February 9, 966) was a prominent Shodōka (Japanese calligrapher) who lived in the Heian period (794–1185).

One of the so-called Sanseki 三跡 (Three Brush Traces), along with
Fujiwara no Sukemasa and Fujiwara no Yukinari. Tōfū is considered the
founder of Japanese style calligraphy or wayōshodō 和様書道.

© More in the WIKIPEDIA !

Ono no Takamura (小野 篁) also known as

Sangi no Takamura 参議篁, Sangi no Takamura

(802 – February 3, 853)

Ono no Michikaze and Ono no Komachi are Takamura’s direct descendants.

. Shrine Onoterusaki jinja 小野照崎神社 .
小野炭や手習ふ人の灰ぜせり

Ono-zumi ya tenarau hito no hai zeseri
this charcoal from Ono –

a student of calligraphy

scribbles in the ashes

The famous calligrapher Ono no Toofuu 小野東風 / 小野道風 (894 – 967) is said to
have practised writing characters in the ashes of a brazier.
. Matsuo Basho and Charcoal from Ono .

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
. Calligraphy from China .

Ouyang Xun 歐陽詢

(557–641)

and Japanese Kinoshita Mariko 木下真理子

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
…………… H A I K U

KIGO for the New Year
First Calligraphy, kakizome 書初め

….. kissho 吉書 “auspicious writing”

On January 2, people take the brush for the first time in the New Year.
The ink is ground with fresh first water (wakamizu) from the well. The
words written include a wish for the New Year or some auspicious poems.

The writing is hung at the Shelf of the Gods (kamidana), to make the deities aware of your wish.

Others burn the paper outside and judge from the hight of the smoke and
paper pieces if the Gods accept your offering and your writing will
improve in the coming year.
. fude hajime 筆始(ふではじめ)first use of the brush

….. shihitsu 試筆(しひつ), shigoo 試毫(しごう)

shikan 試簡(しかん), shimen 試免(しめん)

shiei 試穎(しえい), shiko 試觚(しこ)

shishun 試春(ししゅん)”first calligraphy in spring”
. Kitano no fudehajime sai 北野の筆始祭

(きたののふではじめさい)

first use of the brush ceremony at Kitano .

Kitano Tenmangu in Kyoto 北野天満宮 京都

hatsu suzuri 初硯(はつすずり)first use of the ink stone


taking the brush

365 days

first calligraphy

Gabi Greve
. NEW YEAR – KIGO for HUMANITY

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writing a spell, gihoo o kaku 儀方を書く (ぎほうをかく)

….. gihoo o shosu 儀方を書す(ぎほうをしょす)

observance kigo for mid-summer

In ancient China it was custom on May 5 to write the two
characters GIHO 儀方 on a piece of paper and paste this onto the four main
pillars of the home to ward off mosquitoes and flies during the summer
time. In Japan, this tradition was followed for some time too.
. Mosquitoes and kigo

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First Birthday Calligraphy in India

haiku topic for India

We have calligraphy in every Indian language – an art that was practiced
most widely, until the computer fonts came into being! The most
preferred is the Sanskritised letters in English – English lettering
which resembles the Sanskrit script.

On a child’s first birthday – his/ her hand is guided by the Hindu
priest who writes the first letters of the alphabets of the child mother
tongue, on rice [with the husk] placed on a plate.

Kala Ramesh

.. .. .. .. ..

© Hindu Wisdom, Indian Art

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– – – – – LINKS to online dictionaries

古文書くずし字検索

http://komonjo.riok.net/charSrch/index.html

東京大学史料編纂所

http://wwwap.hi.u-tokyo.ac.jp/ships/db.html

漢字データベースプロジェクト

http://kanji-database.sourceforge.net/

http://www.buddhism-dict.net/ddb/ – (sign in with user name = guest)

http://www.aisf.or.jp/~jaanus/ – JAANUS

http://www.eudict.com/

http://jigen.net/kanji/13661

http://www.kanjijiten.net./

http://kotobank.jp/

http://www.smartkanji.net/

http://www.wul.waseda.ac.jp/kotenseki/index.html

http://sunsite.berkeley.edu/jhti/cgi-bin/jhti/vocasel.cgi

(search classical Japanese texts)

http://www.csse.monash.edu.au/~jwb/onlinejdic.html

(Online Japanese Dictionaries and Glossaries)

http://www.chineseetymology.org/CharacterEtymology.aspx?submitButton1=Etymology&characterInput=%E5%AF%BF

http://factsanddetails.com/japan.php?itemid=682&catid=20&subcatid=128

http://humanum.arts.cuhk.edu.hk/Lexis/Lindict/

http://en.glosbe.com/ja/en/

筆墨硯紙事典 – 天来書院

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Haiku: Daylight (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Daylight (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Daylight is hidden-

Buried in thick piles of darkness…

We pray for daylight

Haiku: Believes (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Believes

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Some younger people

Believe TV shows are true…

What’s reality?

Note: Read other poetic thoughts published under “MENU”, in “The smudge and other poems”, my poetry Page!

www.gutenberg.org/files/22330/22330-8.txt ( EBook of Clepsydra, by Camilo Pessanha) translation in English by Google Translate


http://www.gutenberg.org/files/22330/22330-8.txt.

EBook of Clepsydra, by Camilo Pessanha

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clepsydra, by Camilo Pessanha

This eBook is for use by anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
reuse it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.net

Title: Clepsydra
Camillo Pessanha’s Poems

Author: Camilo Pessanha

Release Date: August 16, 2007 [EBook # 22330]

Language: Portuguese

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLEPSYDRA ***

Produced by Tiago Tejo

CLEPSYDRA

POEMS OF

CAMILLO PESSANHA

LUSITANIA EDITIONS

Clepsydra

All rights reserved

Composite and Printed: Tip. from T. da Espera, 26

CLEPSYDRA

POEMS OF

CAMILLO PESSANHA

LUSITANIA EDITIONS

LISBON – 1920

INSCRIPTION

I saw the light in a lost country.
My soul is languid and defenseless.
Oh! Who could slide without noise!
On the ground disappear like a worm …

SONNETS

Complicated tattoos of my chest:
–Trophéos, emblems, two winged lions …
More, among wreathed hearts,
A huge, superb, pansy …

And my big guy … You have to gold in a barracks
Red, a lys; there is a maiden in the other,
In blue field, silver the body, that one
Which is on my arm like a buckler.

Timbre: breaking, the megalomania …
Motto: ouch, – that insists night and day
Remembering ruins, shallow graves …

Among battling mountain castles,
And eagles in black, unfurling the waters,
What a gold necklace of besantes!

STATUE

I struggled to try your secret:
In your colorless look, – cold escalpello, –
My gaze broke, debating it,
Like the wave on the crest of a rock.

Segrêdo of that soul and my degraded
And my obsession! To drink it
I was your oscular lip, in a nightmare,
For nights of dread, full of fear.

And my fiery, allucinated oscule,
Chilled over the right marble
From this parted cold lip …

From that discrete marble lip,
Severe as a closed grave,
Serene as a quiet pelago.

PHONOGRAPHO

He is declaiming a deceased comic,
A platea laughs, madly,
Of the good hock … And there is a smell in the environment
Crypta and dust, – from the anachronic assumption.

Change the record, here’s a barcarola:
Lilies, lilies, river waters, the moon …
Before Your body the dream my fluctua
About a country, – ecstatic corolla.

Change again: gorgeios, refrain
D’a gold bugle – the smell of jonquil,
Lively and agro! – touching the dawn …

Ceased. And, loving, the soul of the horns
It was now dewy and veiled.
Spring. Morning. What an effluvium of violets!

It descends in tender leafs to collina:
–In glaucos, loose sleeping tones,
That they were fresh, my eyes stinging,
In which the rage’s flame declines …

Oh come, in white, – from the foliage immo!
The branches, take your hand away.
Oh come on! My eyes want to marry you
Reflect you virgin to the serene image.

From crazy bush a slippery stem
How delicate she danced on a finger
With a bright pink quiver! …

Slight skirt … Sweet breeze impelle her …
Oh come on! In white! From the end of the grove …
Soul of sylpho, camellia meat …

Slum arises! It comes from the waters, naked,
By throbbing an alvinitente shell!
The flexible kidneys and the chilling breast …
My mouth dies for kissing yours.

Without vile shame! What should be ashamed of?
Here I am beautiful, young and chaste, strong.
So white the chest! – to expose it to Death …
But now — the infamous one! —Don’t stand before you.

The clumsy hydra! … What a strangle …
Against the rock where your head is,
With the hair dripping water,

Go bend over, faint in love,
Under the fervor of my virginity
And my young gladiator pulse.

After the lucta and after the conquest
I was alone! It was an anthipathic act!
Deserted Island, and on the water table
All green, green, – out of sight.

Because you were, my caravels,
Loaded up with all my thesoiro?
–Long webs of golden llama moonlight,
Diamond subtitles of the stars!

Who undid you, inconsistent forms,
For whose love I climbed the wall,
“Armed lion, a sword in your teeth?”

Happy are you, O battle slain!
Dreams, back to back, eyes open
Reflecting the stars, gaping …

Who polluted, who tore my linen cloths,
Where I expected to die, my chaste scarves?
From my garden I demand the high turns
Who ripped them off and threw them on the way?

Who broke (what a cruel and simian fury!)
The table of me supper, – pine board?
And spread me the wood? And spilled my wine?
–From my vineyard the acidified and fresh wine …

O my poor mother! … Do not rise from the grave,
Look at the night, look at the wind. In ruin the new house …
From my bones the fire is going out soon.

Don’t come home anymore. Don’t tramp anymore.
My mother’s soul … Don’t walk in the snow anymore,
At night begging at the doors of the houses.

O my heart goes back
Where are you running from, crazy?
My burning eyes that the sinned
Burned … Return hours of peace.

Bend the elms of the roads from the snow,
The ash cooled on the solid.
Nights of the mountains, the shack …
“Look at my eyes like two old men …”

Extensive springtime evokes them:
“Already will blossom the apple orchard,
We have to decorate the Mayan hats–

Socegae, cool, feverish eyes.
–And we will go sing in the last
Litany … Sweet senile voices …–

The wild roses bloomed by mistake
In winter: the wind came to defolate them …
What scismas, honey? Why do you call me
The voices you just fooled me with?

Crazy Castellos! So early cahistes! …
Where we go, oblivious to the thought,
Holding hands? Your eyes, what a moment
They scrutinized mine, how sad they are!

And upon us the snow falls,
Deaf, triumpho, petal, slightly
Putting the floor together on the ice acropolis …

Around your figure is like a video!
Who sprinkles them – how much flower– from the CEO,
About us, about our hair?

And here is what remains of the finished idyllio,
“It will last a moment …”
How far the convent mornings go!
“From the cheerful abandoned little convent …”

It’s all over … Anemones, hydrangeas.
Silindras, – flowers so our friends!
In the cloister now the ortigas beat,
Snakes roam the old ponds.

About the registration of your deldo name!
“That my eyes can barely spell,”
Cançados … And the withered aroma

May it evolve from your common name!
The silence of oblivion ennobled him.
O sweet, naive, grave inscription.

Singra the ship. Under clear water
You see the seabed of fine sand …
–Imprecable pilgrim figure,
The endless distance that separates us!

Pebbles of the lighter porcelain,
Faintly pink shells,
In cold luminous transparency
They lie deep under the flat water.

And the sight probe, reconstructs, compares.
So many wrecks, wrecks, wrecks!
–O gleaming vision, beautiful lie!

Little roses that the tide had gone …
Teeth that reciprocate it will wear …
Shells, pebbles, pieces of bones …

It was a day of useless agonies.
Sunny day, flooded with sunshine! …
The cold swords flashed naked …
Sunny day, flooded with sunshine! …

It was a day of false joy.
Dahlia flaying, – his molle smile …
The ranches of the pilgrimages returned.
Dahlia flaying, – his molle smile …

More impressionable day than the other days.
So lucid … So pallido … So lucid! …
Diffuse of theoremas, of theorias …

The day futil more than the other days!
Minute of discreet ironies …
So lucid … So pallido … So lucid! …

The autumn has passed, already makes the cold …
“Fall from your hurt laugh.”
Winter algid! I oblique the sun, cold …
“The sun, and the clear waters of the river.”

Clear waters of the river! River waters,
Fleeing under my tired gaze,
Where do you take me my care?
Where are you going, my empty heart?

Ficae cabellos d’ella, floating,
And under the fleeting waters,
Your eyes open and scisendo …

Where are you going to run, melancholy?
–And, refracted, long waving,
Your translucent cold hands …

When I came back I found my steps
Still fresh on the damp sand,
The fugitive hour, recalls,
“So redivative!” in my dull eyes …

Bleary eyes from contained tears.
–Little steps, because you screwed
Thus misled, and afterwards you have become
To the point of the first goodbyes?

Where you went without a wind, in the wind,
Around, like birds in an avian,
Until the azita is gone …

All this long track – for what?
If the tide will come to you,
Like the new track that starts …

Retinal images
Why do you not stare from my eyes?
What are you passing like crystalline water
For a source never again! …

Or to the dark lake where it ends
Your course, silent of junctions,
And the vague anguished fear rules,
“Because you’re going without me, won’t you take me?”

Without you, what are my eyes open?
“The useless mirror, my pagan eyes!”
Aridity of successive deserts …

It is even a shadow of my hands,
Casual flexing of my uncertain fingers,
Weird shadow in vain movements.

POETRY

When will the upright rise,
Again, from the ruined castello,
And there will be shouts and flags
In the cold morning breeze?

Will you hear the rebate play
About the abandoned plain?
And we will go to combat
With a coat and helmet and the long sword?

When will we go, sad and serious,
In the long and vain strife,
Letting oaths, improper,
By the currency and subtitles?

And we’ll be back, the old ones
And purissimos handlers,
(How many jobs and dangers!)
Almost dead and winners?

. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .

And when, O Doc Infanta Real,
Will you smile at the belveder?
–Magra stained glass figure,
For whom we went to fight …

I don’t know if this is love. I look for your look,
If any pain hurts me, seeking a shelter;
And in spite of that, believe! I never thought of a home
Where you were happy, and I happy with you.

For you I never cried any broken ideal.
And I never wrote you any romantic verses.
Not even after waking up I looked for you in bed
As the sensual wife of Cantico of canticos.

If it’s loving you, I don’t know. I don’t know if I idealized you
Your healthy color, your tender smile,
But I feel smile to see that smile
That penetrates me well, like this winter sun.

I spend with you the afternoon and always without fear
Of the twilight light, which unnerves, that provokes.
I do not take long to look at the curve of your breast
I didn’t even remember kissing you in the mouth anymore.

I don’t know if it’s love. It will be maybe start …
I don’t know what change my present soul …
Love, I don’t know if it is, but I know I shudder,
Maybe I got sick of knowing you were sick.

Drumming in a hurry,
And wobbly.
Bonet next door,

Garboso the drum
Advance around
From the field of love …

Hard, soldier!
The bent step!
Well wobbled!

Loves puff you.
May the girls kiss you.
May the boys envy you.

But there, O soldier!
O sad alienated!
However exalted

May the touch complain,
No one to call you …
No one who loves you …

To my heart an iron weight
I will arrest on the turn of the sea.
To my heart an iron weight …
Throw it overboard.

Who goes on board, who goes offended …
The feathers of love do not want to carry …
Sailors, I lifted the heavy vault,
Throw it overboard.

And I will sell a silver clasp.
My heart is the sealed vault.
The seven keys: there is a letter inside …
“The last one, before your engagement.”

The seven keys, – the enchanted letter!
And an embroidered handkerchief … I’ll take it,
Which is for wetting it in saltwater
The day I finally stop crying …

Twilight

There is a murmur of complain in the room,
Of love desires, of these pills …
A sparse tenderness of bleating,
It feels like a fading perfume.

Honeysuckle withers in the brush
And the aroma that they exhale through space,
Has delusions of fat and tiredness
Nervous, feminine, sweet.

They feel spasms, agonias d’ave,
Inaprehensiveis, minimal, serene …
“I have your small hands in my hands.”
My gaze on your soft gaze.

Your hands so white with anemia …
Your eyes so sweet with sadness …
–This is the languishing of nature,
This vague suffer from the end of the day.

If you walked in the garden,
What a smell of jasmine!
So white in the moonlight!

. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Behold, I have it with me.
Overdue, it’s mine anyway
After so much dreaming …

Why do I grieve like this?
It wasn’t her, but
(What I wanted to hug),

Garden time …
The aroma of jasmine …
The moonlight wave …

After the golden wedding,
From the promised time,
I don’t know how bad it is now
It made my life late …

I have to return …
And it misses me …
“But to remind me
I don’t know that pain invades me.

I don’t even want to go on,
Walk new paths,
My poor feet, dorir,
Already purple of thorns.

Neither stay … and die …
Lose you, vague image …
Cease … No more seeing you …
As a light goes out …

My heart goes down,
An extinguished balloon …
–Best it burned,
In the dark, set on fire.

In the fastidient mist,
Like a grave coffin …
–Because it doesn’t blow before
Of violent pain and new ?!

What apprehension still holds him?
Atom wretched …
–If the train smashed
D’a train panting! …

The inane, vile spoil
From the selfish and weak soul!
Brought him the sea of red
Take him in the hangover.

Chorae Arcades
From the video player!
Convulsed,
Winged Bridges
Nightmare …

From which they fly,
Whites, the bows …
Underneath,
Fall apart,
In the river, the boats.

Slings, hiccups
Weeping Tails …
What ruins, (listen)!
If they look,
What a sink!

Wobbly stars …
Lacustrine solids …
–Mails and masts …
And the alabaster
From the balusters!

Broken ballot boxes!
Ice blocks …
–Chorae arcades,
Shattered,
From the viôloncello.

AROUND FLOWER BOATS

Only, incessantly, a flute sound cries,
Widow, gracile, in the quiet darkness,
–Perfect voice that exiles from among the most,
“Sound parties masking the time.”

In the orgy, far away, that in scintilla flares
And the white lips of the carmine deflate …
Only, incessantly, a flute sound cries,
She was gracious in the quiet darkness.

And the orchestra? And the kisses? All night out,
Caution, stop. Only modulated track
The flute flute … Who’s going to do it?
Who knows why you regret it without reason?

Only, incessantly, a flute sound cries …

IN A PORTRAIT

From under the square quadrangle
From the fresh land that will swell me,

And after much rain,
When the herb spreads with the oblong,

Still, friend, the same look of mine
He will go humble across the sea,

Wrap you up in tender price,
Like that of a poor grateful dog.

Weak voice that you pass,
What a humbling moan
I don’t know what misfortunes …

It would be said that you ask.
One would say that you tremble,
United to the walls,

If you come in the dark,
Trust me in the ear
I don’t know what bitterness …

Sighs or fallas?
Because it’s the moan,
The breath you exhale?

One would say that you pray.
Murmurs softly
I don’t know what sadness …

“Being your mate?”
I do not know the way.
I’m foreign.

“Past love?”
Cheer up, say
I don’t know what terrors …

Finhainha, delirious.
–Happy projects? –
Sighs. Expires.

In jail the bandits arrested!
Your air of contemplatives!
What’s the beasts with burning eyes ?!
Poor of your captivating eyes.

They walk dumb between the bars,
They look like fish in an aquarium.
–Florid Field of Saudades
Why tumultuous shoots?

Serene … Serene … Serene …
Brought them handcuffed to escort.
–Extreme bowl of poisons
My heart always in revolt.

Heart, quiet … quiet …
Why do you rise up and blaspheme?
Pschiu … Don’t hit … Slowly …
Look at the soldiers, the handcuffs!

LAST

O virtuous colors that lie underground,
–Blue, red hemoptyse flares,
Glow dams, vesanias chromatic–,
In the limbo where you await the light that baptizes you,

The eyelashes are cerrae, anxious not veiled.

Aborts that overhang the cider fronts,
So serious to scismar, in the mouths of museums,
And listening to the water running in the clepsydra,
Vaguely smile, resigned and atheus,

Cease to think, the abyss do not probe.

Moaning coo from unreached dreams,
That all night long, sweet souls pining,
And the lacerations on the edge of the roofs,
And in the wind exhales in a soft whine,

Fall asleep. Do not sigh. Do not breathe.

End of the Gutenberg Project EBook of Clepsydra, by Camilo Pessanha

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Haiku: The Labyrinth (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: The Labyrinth

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Eternity-

In this Labyrinth I’m lost-

Till the End of time.

Haiku: “In the Beginning” (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: “In the Beginning”

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

In the Beginning

There were nothing but darkness:

Just as in the End.

Watch “POEMS OF WILLIAM BLAKE – FULL Audio Book – Songs of Innocence and of Experience & The Book of Thel” on YouTube


BRUCE LEE’S CREED


BRUCE LEE'S CREED

BRUCE LEE’S CREED

https://pin.it/y4q3j4r5bv43qu

Watch “Les Feuilles Mortes_Yves Montand à l´Olympia” on YouTube



Oh, je voudais tant que tu te souviennes
Des jours heureux où nous étions amis
En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Et le vent du Nord les emporte
Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais
C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais, et je t’aimais
Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis
Translate to English

Source: LyricFind


Songwriters: Jacques Prevert / Joseph Kosma
Les Feuilles Mortes (Remasterisé) lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

I am, (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


I am,
(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

I’m hungry I’m thirsty I’m human

I’m tired I’m scared I’m human

I’m sick I’m not cured I’m dying

Can’t breathe on my own I’m dying

I’m getting better I’m happy I AM-

-I still am, am alive I made it…this time for a while

Watch “Leonard Cohen – Sound Of Silence” on YouTube



Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence
“Fools” said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls”
And whisper’d in the sounds of silence
Source: LyricFind


Songwriters: Paul Simon
The Sound of Silence lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Haiku: Blue skies at sunset (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Blue skies at sunset (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Blue skies at sunset

Proceed starry nights throughout,

Sunny days to come.

Haiku: Twenty five hours days (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Twenty five hours days

Twenty five hours days

Are unlike twenty three hours

In autumn and spring.

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Watch “Christopher Walken reads The Raven”, by Edgar Allan Poe, on YouTube


“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Watch “You Want It Darker – Leonard Cohen” on YouTube



  1. If you are the dealer, I’m out of the game
    If you are the healer, it means I’m broken and lame
    If thine is the glory then mine must be the shame
    You want it darker
    We kill the flame

    Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name
    Vilified, crucified, in the human frame
    A million candles burning for the help that never came
    You want it darker

    Hineni, hineni
    I’m ready, my lord

    There’s a lover in the story
    But the story’s still the same
    There’s a lullaby for suffering
    And a paradox to blame
    But it’s written in the scriptures
    And it’s not some idle claim
    You want it darker
    We kill the flame

    They’re lining up the prisoners
    And the guards are taking aim
    I struggled with some demons
    They were middle class and tame
    I didn’t know I had permission to murder and to maim
    You want it darker

    Hineni, hineni
    I’m ready, my lord

    Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name
    Vilified, crucified, in the human frame
    A million candles burning for the love that never came
    You want it darker
    We kill the flame

    If you are the dealer, let me out of the game
    If you are the healer, I’m broken and lame
    If thine is the glory, mine must be the shame
    You want it darker

    Hineni, hineni
    Hineni, hineni
    I’m ready, my lord

    Hineni
    Hineni, hineni
    Hineni

    Source: LyricFind


    Songwriters: Leonard Cohen / Patrick Leonard

    You Want It Darker lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.


Haiku: Roberta Flack (© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)


Haiku: Roberta Flack

(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Killing me softly

with her voice, like the wind

In the dry corn, rows.

Unpainting…a perfectly painted tableau ( ©poetic thought by GeorgeB @euzicasa)


Unpainting…a perfectly painted tableau

( ©poetic thought by GeorgeB @euzicasa)

Everyday I…I efface another color

of my perfectly painted tableau,

accomplishment of the day past…

I aim for a unicolor, a pure black or white, I can’t make up my mind…

So, every morning, seated at my easel, I use the widest paintbrush, and chose, today will be white over black, to cover the painting behind, to hide yesternight hard work, to start anew,

a new memory, painted over an older one,

no holidays,

weekends,

only Monday Mornings,

nonstop,

in perpetuity,

forever Amen!

Haiku: Nights (poetic thought by GeorgeB)


Haiku: Night(© poetic thought by GeorgeB @ euzicasa)

Nights get much longer

Than days, year in and out.

Will it ever stop?

俳句:夜
(GeorgeBによる詩的思考)
夜はずっと長くなります
日よりも、年も年も。
止まるでしょうか?

Note: I do not speak Japanese, therefore I had Google Translate di the translation for me (from English to Japanese). Please correct, if you find it unnecessary!
Thank you!

Haiku | Academy of American Poets


https://poets.org/glossary/haiku

Haiku | Academy of American Poets

Haiku | Academy of American Poets

Watch “je vous salue marie-georges brassens” on YouTube


Par le petit garçon qui meurt près de sa mère
Tandis que des enfants s’amusent au parterre
Et par l’oiseau blessé qui ne sait pas comment
Son aile tout à coup s’ensanglante et descend
Par la soif et la faim et le délire ardent
Je vous salue, Marie
Par les gosses battus, par l’ivrogne qui rentre
Par l’âne qui reçoit des coups de pied au ventre
Et par l’humiliation de l’innocent châtié
Par la vierge vendue qu’on a déshabillée
Par le fils dont la mère a été insultée
Je vous salue, Marie

Par la vieille qui, trébuchant sous trop de poids
S’écrie “mon Dieu !” par le malheureux dont les bras
Ne purent s’appuyer sur une amour humaine
Comme la Croix du Fils sur Simon de Cyrène
Par le cheval tombé sous le chariot qu’il traîne
Je vous salue, Marie

Par les quatre horizons qui crucifient le monde
Par tous ceux dont la chair se déchire ou succombe
Par ceux qui sont sans pieds, par ceux qui sont sans mains
Par le malade que l’on opère et qui geint
Et par le juste mis au rang des assassins
Je vous salue, Marie

Par la mère apprenant que son fils est guéri
Par l’oiseau rappelant l’oiseau tombé du nid
Par l’herbe qui a soif et recueille l’ondée
Par le baiser perdu par l’amour redonné
Et par le mendiant retrouvant sa monnaie
Je vous salue, Marie

Translate to English
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Georges Charles Brassens / Francis Jammes / Oswald Antoine Marie D’Andrea
La prière lyrics © Warner Chappell Music France

For interpretation of the lyrics see:

https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Pri%C3%A8re?wprov=sfla1

Watch “Willie Nelson – Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain” on YouTube



In the twilight glow I see them
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain
When we kissed goodbye and parted
I knew we’d never meet again

Love is like a dyin’ ember
Only memories remain
Through the ages I’ll remember
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain
Some day when we meet up yonder
We’ll stroll hand in hand again
In a land that knows no partin’
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain
Now my hair has turned to silver
All my life I’ve loved in vain
I can see her star in heaven
Blue eyes crying in the rain
Source: LyricFind


Songwriters: Fred Rose
Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

We’ll wait and see, but chances are… (Poetic thought by GeorgeB) visit my poetry page Here


We’ll wait and see, but chances are… (Poetic thought by GeorgeB)

Detached from the dormant tree
All the dried leaves have fallen but one…a special one,

for unknown reasons…
The winds didn’t detach it,

nor did the cold rains,

the freezing breezes of December or

the early mornings’ icy crystals of frozen water…

all these barely scratched new tears

upon its dried out reddish-brown, wrinkled face…

Will it survive the winter?

Will it hang around till spring?

Will it be the exceptional leave its home, no matter what?

Will it be the last of the survivors, born on the death list,

in the country of the dead,

under the symbols of the crossed sickle-n- hammer?

We’ll wait and see, but chances are…
(Transmission interupted here)

(Poetic thought by GeorgeB) HERE

Watch “Robin Williams reads “I Love You Without Knowing How” by Pablo Neruda” on YouTube


I love you without knowing how, by Pablo Neruda

I love you without knowing how,

by Pablo Neruda

Everliving music/fabulous composition: Watch “Respighi: Ancient Airs and Dances, Suite No. 3 – Sir Neville Marriner, Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra” on YouTube


Questioning, by GeorgeB


Questioning,  by GeorgeB

I’m closing my eye, now,
Over the vast desert of the skies filled with shine…
Covered by the green grass, with a pillow…of sea grass…
I let my inner eye open…
to alert me…
                                        should
The rain will fall
The thunder clouds will explode
The snow will engulf me alive
The fire will not be extinguished in time
The earth will open
where I lay…
Oh God, what a good guardian you are…

Do I deserve your love?
———————————

(Copywright 2016,
The smudge and other poems page)

Watch “Leonard Cohen – A Thousand Kisses Deep” on YouTube



The ponies run, the girls are young,
The odds are there to beat.
You win a while, and then it’s done ?
Your little winning streak.
And summoned now to deal
With your invincible defeat,
You live your life as if it?s real,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I’m turning tricks, I’m getting fixed,
I’m back on Boogie Street.
You lose your grip, and then you slip
Into the Masterpiece.
And maybe I had miles to drive,
And promises to keep:
You ditch it all to stay alive,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

Confined to sex, we pressed against
The limits of the sea:
I saw there were no oceans left
For scavengers like me.
I made it to the forward deck.
I blessed our remnant fleet…
And then consented to be wrecked,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I’m turning tricks, I’m getting fixed,
I’m back on Boogie Street.
I guess they won’t exchange the gifts
That you were meant to keep.
And quiet is the thought of you,
The file on you complete,
Except what we forgot to do,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

The ponies run, the girls are young,
The odds are there to beat .

Watch “Leonard Cohen-In My Secret Life” on YouTube


https://youtu.be/ym3_m_Apfas
LEONARD COHEN LYRICS

“In My Secret Life”

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

Hubert Rossel: Le livre / Transylvanie – Les églises fortifiées du pays des Sicules / Hubert Rossel


La « petite église » (Szent Katalin templom) de Gyergyóditró/ Ditrău, celle de Gyergyóalfalu/Joseni et celle de Csíkdelne/Delniţa sont toutes les trois parmi les 80 églises fortifiées à être analysées et replacées dans leur contexte historique dans le livre “Les églises fortifiées du pays des Sicules”… Pour plus d’informations on peut aussi se rendre sur le site http://eglises-fortifiees-sicules.prossel.net

TRANSYLVANIE – ERDÉLY – SIEBENBÜRGEN – TRANSYLVANIA

La Transylvanie a été choisie par les guides Lonely Planet comme la région la plus tendance pour un voyage en 2016. Parmi les différents points d’attraction de cette région figurent les églises fortifiées des communautés saxonne et sicule. De nombreux ouvrages existent en français pour présenter les églises saxonnes, les plus grandes et les plus connues. Mais il n’y en a qu’un seul en français pour parler des églises sicules et les remettre dans leur contexte historique et culturel : Transylvanie – Les églises fortifiées du pays des Sicules (http://eglises-fortifiees-sicules.prossel.net/). Songez-y lorsque vous préparez votre voyage, si vous compter aller dans cette région!
La photo ci-dessous présente l’église fortifiées de Zabola/Zăbala, dans le judeţ de Kovaszna/Covasna.

Transylvania has been selected by the Lonely Planet travel guidebooks as the first of the most likely areas for a trip in 2016. Of the various points of attraction of this area are the fortified churches of the Saxon and the Szekler communities. Many books exist in French to introduce the Saxon churches, the largest ones and best known. But there is only one in French to talk about the Szekler churches and put them in their historical and cultural context: Transylvanie – Les églises fortifiées du pays des Sicules. (http://eglises-fortifiees-sicules.prossel.net/). Consider this when planning your trip, if you plan to go to this region!
The picture below figures the Zabola/Zăbala fortified church, in the judeţ Kovaszna/Covasna
image

The Traitor, Leonard Cohen With Martha Wainright (from I’m Your Man Show)


New! Read & write lyrics explanations

  • Highlight lyrics and explain them to earn Karma points.

Now the swan it floated on the english river
Ah the rose of high romance it opened wide
A sun tanned woman yearned me through the summer
And the judges watched us from the other side

I told my mother “mother I must leave you
Preserve my room but do not she’d a tear
Should rumour of a shabby ending reach you
It was half my fault and half the atmosphere”

But the rose I sickened with a scarlet fever
And the swan I tempted with a sense of shame
She said at last I was her finest lover
And if she withered I would be to blame

The judges said you missed it by a fraction
Rise up and brace your troops for the attack
Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action
Oh see the men of action falling back

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment
I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still
My falsity had stung me like a hornet
The poison sank and it paralysed my will

I could not move to warn all the younger soldiers
That they had been deserted from above
So on battlefields from here to barcelona
I’m listed with the enemies of love

And long ago she said “i must be leaving,
Ah but keep my body here to lie upon
You can move it up and down and when I’m sleeping
Run some wire through that rose and wind the swan”

So daily I renew my idle duty
I touch her here and there — I know my place
I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty
And people call me traitor to my face

Watch “Doru Stanculescu – Hai, hai, haidi, hai (Pe sub flori ma leganai)” on YouTube


Ai, hai lyrics

Artist: Doru Stănculescu
Translations: English, French, German
Romanian
Ai, hai

N-a ști nimeni că m-am dus,
Numa’ m-or vedea că nu-s.

Sus e cerul, largă-i lumea,
Bine c-a-nfrunzit pădurea!

Ai, hai, ai, haidi, haidi, hai,
Pe sub flori mă legănai.

Sus e cerul, largă-i lumea,
N-a ști nimeni că m-am dus.

Bine c-a-nfrunzit pădurea,
Numa’ m-or vedea că nu-s

Ai, hai, ai, haidi, haidi, hai,
Pe sub flori mă legănai.

© 2008-2016 LyricsTranslate.com

Like a bridge over troubled waters (Simon and Garfunkel YouTube)


image

Like a bridge over troubled waters

Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge over troubled water (with lyrics)

quotation: “…And Love to all men ‘neath the sun!” Rudyard Kipling.


Teach us Delight in simple things,

And Mirth that has no bitter springs;

Forgiveness free of evil done,

And Love to all men ‘neath the sun!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) Discuss

Ce- ti doresc eu tie dulce Romanie- Veta Biris


Ce- ti doresc eu tie dulce Romanie- Veta Biris

this day in the yesteryear: John Milton Publishes Areopagitica (1644)


John Milton Publishes Areopagitica (1644)

Best known for his epic poem Paradise Lost, Milton, a 17th-century English poet, was also a writer of several political and moral pamphlets. More than two decades before his poetic masterpiece was published, Milton wrote Areopagitica, his best known prose work. One of the great arguments in favor of the freedom of the press, it was published in 1644 in response to his dissatisfaction with the strict censorship of the press exercised by Parliament. For what is the pamphlet named? More… Discuss

Haiku: biking, poetic thought by George-B (The smudge and other poems Page)


Haiku: biking, poetic thought by George-B.
The smudge and other poems Page

Left leg, right leg, left…
The bicycle is rolling…
right leg-left leg-right…

Bicycle ride

Bicycle ride


AMÁLIA canta ” AVÉ MARIA FADISTA ” de Gabriel de Oliveira e Música: Vianinha

Historic musical bits: #PrayersForParis Imagine – The Beatles – John Lennon


Imagine – The Beatles – John Lennon

today’s birthday: Esaias Tegnér (1782)


Esaias Tegnér (1782)

Tegnér was the most popular of the Swedish romantic poets. An optimistic nationalist in his youth, he wrote the militant anti-Russian Svea and Axel, followed by Frithjof’s Saga, which is based on collections of Scandinavian sagas and is considered the masterpiece of the Swedish Gothic tradition. The son of a pastor and a bishop himself, his sermons and speeches are classics of the Swedish language. Subject to periods of madness, he composed what epic poem in an asylum? More… Discuss

make music part of your life: TE DEUM – F. J. HAYDN (Gregorian Chant Lyrics Latin/English)


TE DEUM – F.J.HAYDN

 

Original Best of Leonard Cohen (1975 compilation)


Original Best of Leonard Cohen (1975 compilation)

Access here: The LibriVox Free Audiobook Collection


The LibriVox Free Audiobook Collection

LibriVox – founded in 2005 – is a community of volunteers from all over the world who record public domain texts: poetry, short stories, whole books, even dramatic works, in many different languages. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain in the USA and available as free down

The LibriVox Free Audiobook Collection

The LibriVox Free Audiobook Collection (Click to access the Website!)

today’s birthday: John Keats (1795)


John Keats (1795)

Considered one of the greatest English poets, Keats worked as a surgeon’s apprentice before devoting himself entirely to poetry at age 21. During a few intense months in 1819, he produced many of his greatest works, including “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” “Ode to a Nightingale,” and “To Autumn.” His Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems is perhaps the greatest single volume of poetry published in England in the 19th century. Tragically, Keats died at just 25 from what disease? More… Discuss

today’s birthday: Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772)


Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772)

One of the most versatile and influential figures in the English Romantic movement, Coleridge was a poet and critic who perfected a sensuous lyricism in his poetry that was echoed by many later poets. His most famous works include “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” and “Kubla Khan.” Known for his influential lectures on Shakespeare, he later wrote Biographia Literaria, the most significant work of general literary criticism of the Romantic period. To what drug was Coleridge addicted? More… Discuss

today’s birthday: Virgil (70 BCE)


Virgil (70 BCE)

Virgil was a Roman poet and the author of the Eclogues, the Georgics, and the Aeneid, widely regarded as one of the greatest long poems in world literature. The Aeneid, Rome’s national epic, tells the legendary story of the Trojan hero Aeneas, whose descendants become the founders of Rome. What later poet portrayed Virgil as the guide to Hell in his great literary classic The Divine Comedy? More… Discuss

Poezii care vor trai intotdeauna: Vasile Alecsandri – Mioriţa


Vasile Alecsandri – Mioriţa