She was a field of fruit and flowers
offering one like me no other enjoyment
than sight and sound.
Know then that I am not
one of those beasts gone wild
who take gardens for pastures.
translated by Lysander Kemp
She was a field of fruit and flowers
offering one like me no other enjoyment
than sight and sound.
Know then that I am not
one of those beasts gone wild
who take gardens for pastures.
translated by Lysander Kemp
If a man or woman flails about, he not only
Smashes his house,
He burns the whole world down.
translated by Robert Bly
Your face usurps the fiery glow and hue
of roses;
And with your face here, what have I to do
with roses?
Your ringlets’ fragrance is so sweet, my friend,
No fragrant rose-scent could entice me to
seek roses–
Besides, the faithless roses’ scent will fade,
Which is a serious drawback, in my view
of roses;
And if the waters of eternal life
Had touched their roots, so that they bloomed anew,
these roses,
When could they ever form a bud as sweet
As your small mouth, which is more trim and true
than roses?
translated by Dick Davis
Last night, my love, my life, you lay with me,
I grasped your pretty chin, I fondled it,
And then I bit, and bit, your sweet lips till
I woke. . .It was my fingertips I bit.
translated by Dick Davis
I told my heart, “I can’t endure this tyranny!
He’s nothing, no one! What’s this bully’s love to me?”
My little heart, you’re like a boundless sea, it seems;
And common sense? A splinter somewhere on that sea.
translated by Dick Davis
The roses have all gone; “Goodbye,” we say; we must;
And I shall leave the busy world one day; I must;
My little room, my books, my love, my sips of wine–
All these are dear to me; they’ll pass away; they must.
translated by Dick Davis
My friend, hold back your heart from enemies,
Drink shining wine with handsome friends like these;
With art’s initiates undo your collar–
Stay buttoned up with ignoramuses.
translated by Dick Davis
If every drop of dew were to become a pearl
The bazar would be full of them as of ass-shells.
translated by Edward Rehatsek
I held in my hand a perfumed piece of clay
that came to me from a beloved’s hand.
I asked it, “Are you musk or ambergris?
Like fine wine, your smell intoxicates me.”
“I was,” it said, “a loathsome lump of clay
till someone set me down beside a rose.
Then my companion’s scent seeped into me.
Otherwise, I am only the earth I am.”
courtesy of my friend Richard Newman
Ah! my beloved, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past regrets and future fears–
To-morrow?–Why, to-morrow I may be
Myself with yesterday’s sev’n thousand years.
translated by Edward FitzGerald
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Fine Arts Blog
Life, love and destiny.
4TheRecord is dedicated primarily to Ausmusic from all eras and most genres, we will explore the dynamics of the creative process, and reveal the great drama, lyricism, musicality, and emotion behind each classic song.
Fii schimbarea pe care vrei sa o vezi in lume!
Moments de vie, fragments de textes et quelques notes...
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
there's nothing like stories
quiet moments in nature
Art and Literature Beyond Borders
A bird's eye view of St. George, Utah
Keep on Reading
Chronicling an ever-changing city through faded and forgotten artifacts
I read, rant and write ;)