FINAL DE FESTA > Vénen cada matí les formes i la llum i cada nit vénen més formes i la fosca, i tot fuig en la nit i fuig tot en ple dia amb la proclama silenciosa que l’excés dels mesos, les setmanes i l’abans i l’ara ens ha estat atorgat, mercè d’un rei magnànim i terrible. Que tot ens …
Read More »PATERNAL – Poetry, by Joan Maragall
PATERNAL > Tornant del Liceu en la nit del 7 de novembre de 1893. Furient va esclatant l’odi per la terra, regalen sang les colltorçades testes, i cal anâ a les festes amb pit ben esforçat, com a la guerra. A cada esclat mortal, la gent trèmula es gira: la crudeltat que avança, la por que s’enretira, se vanpartint el …
Read More »WITHOUT FRIENDS – Poetry, by Jordi De Sant Jordi
DESERT D’AMICS > Desert d’amics, de béns e de senyor, en estrany lloc i en estranya contrada, lluny de tot bé, fart d’enuig e tristor, ma voluntat e pensa caitivada, me trob del tot en mal poder sotsmès, no vei algú que de mé s’haja cura, e soi guardats, enclòs, ferrats e pres, de què en fau grat a ma …
Read More »I WILL APPOINT THE THINGS – Poetry, of Cintio Vitier
I WILL APPOINT THE THINGS I will appoint things, the sound heights that see play the wind, the deep porches, screens closed shade and silence. And the internal sacred, the gloom that ply the dusty offices, the wooden man, the night wood of my body when sleeping. The poverty of the place, and the dust where the footsteps of my …
Read More »IN THE CLOCK OF THE WATER – Poetry, by Rosario Murillo
IN THE CLOCK OF THE WATER A woman writes a poem with golden edges, dreams wonders born from her chest, everything seems possible. Her body is a multitude, has just hands and feet, and its pores remind us of the transparency of the angels, when they sit on the clouds to hunt sparks for their flashes. A woman wakes up …
Read More »I WOULD LIKE TO BE CHILD – Poetry, by Eunice Odio
I WOULD LIKE TO BE CHILD I would like to be a child, to match the distance clouds up lame form, go to the merriment of what is small, and wonder, as who does not know him, the color of the leaves. How was it? To ignore what is green, the green sea, the healthy response of the sunset in …
Read More »SENSATION – Poetry, by Arthur Rimbaud
SENSATION > Par les soirs bleus d’été, j’irais dans les sentiers, picoté par les blés, fouler l’herbe menue: rêveur, j’en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds. Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue. Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien: mais l’amour infini me montera dans l’âme. Et j’irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien, par la Nature, …
Read More »TAKE THIS ROSE – Poetry, by Pierre de Ronsard
TAKE THIS ROSE > Prends cette rose aimable comme toi, qui sert de rose aux roses les plus belles, qui sert de fleur aux fleurs les plus nouvelles, dont la senteur me ravit tout de moi. Prends cette rose, et ensemble reçois, dedans ton sein mon coeur qui n’a point d’ailes: il est constant et cent plaies cruelles, n’ont empêché …
Read More »HUG – Poetry, by Blaga Dimitrova
HUG Heart to heart. And breathe in the breath. So close to me, so as not to see you. Over your shoulder, I saw in the distance a dark mountain. I was stretched out in a rush, as if to pass you. I felt the pounding heart beat of the stars. I welcomed the wind out of breath, covered with …
Read More »WHITE NIGHTS – Poetry, by Blaga Dimitrova
WHITE NIGHTS Unknown source of light, soaked granite and gardens. The Neva has poured into the sky blushes, the sky in the river in blue shivers. And shoulder to shoulder two young go with cautious and slow step, not to disperse this light, that heart-to-heart overflows. (Blaga Dimitrova) http://www.amazon.com/Scars-Blaga-Dimitrova/dp/1930214030/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
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