In former days we’d both agree
That you were me, and I was you.
What has now happened to us two,
That you are you, and I am me?
poetry
Love Without Hope by Robert Graves
Love without hope, as when the young bird-catcher
Swept off his tall hat to the Squire’s own daughter,
So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly
Singing about her head, as she rode by.
The First Day by Christina Rossetti
I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand!–Did one but know!
A Drinking Song by W.B. Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
I Am Not I by Juan Ramon Jimenez
I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
who remains calm and silent while I talk,
and forgives, gently, when I hate,
who walks where I am not,
who will remain standing when I die.
translated by Robert Bly
Last Love by Fyodor Tyutchev
Love at the closing of our days
is apprehensive and very tender.
Glow brighter, brighter, farewell rays
of one last love in its evening splendor.
Blue shade takes half the world away:
through western clouds alone some light is slanted.
O tarry, O tarry, declining day,
enchantment, let me stay enchanted.
The blood runs thinner, yet the heart
remains as ever deep and tender.
O last belated love, thou art
a blend of joy and of hopeless surrender.
translated by Vladimir Nabokov
Falling Leaves by Nazim Hikmet
I’ve read about falling leaves in fifty thousand poems novels
and so on
watched leaves falling in fifty thousand movies
seen leaves fall fifty thousand times
fall drift and rot
felt their dead shush shush fifty thousand times
underfoot in my hands on my fingertips
but I’m still touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves
and if kids are around
if it’s sunny
and I’ve got good news for friendship
especially if my heart doesn’t ache
and I believe my love loves me
especially if it’s a day I feel good about people
I’m touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
With Her by Pablo Neruda
This time is difficult. Wait for me.
We will live it out vividly.
Give me your small hand:
we will rise and suffer,
we will feel, we will rejoice.
We are once more the pair
who live in bristling places,
in harsh nests in the rock.
This time is difficult. Wait for me
with a basket, with a shovel,
with your shoes and your clothes.
Now we need each other,
not only for the carnations’ sake,
not only to look for honey–
we need our hands
to wash with, to make fire.
So let our difficult time
stand up to infinity
with four hands and four eyes.
Oceans by Juan Ramon Jimenez
I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.
And nothing
happens! Nothing. . . Silence. . . Waves. . .
–Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?
translated by Robert Bly
PRO PATRIA by Orhan Veli Kanik
What have we not done
For our mother-
land;
Some of us died;
Some gave speeches.
Leonard Durso 