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Furius and Aurelius, who'd keep me company
even if I wayfared to remotest India
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Furius and Aurelius, who’d keep me company even if I wayfared to remotest India
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I'll never forget her: her shocked expression
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The Black Mark (Translation of Y Blotyn Du by Hedd Wyn)
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War (English Translation of Rhyfel by Hedd Wyn, 13 January 1887 – 31 July 1917 killed in action in Belgium)
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Real love's symbolic plain as pomegranate’s spill.
Jointly their seeds sufficient strength retain,
Rhyme, reason elsewhere one must seek
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What most hurts me, I wait ‘Why’ not knowing, sad fate, without love, without hate, ... On my heart lies deadweight !
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Entre l'hi[v]er qui a déçu,
et le printemps qu'on n’va pas voir,
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Translation of Pavane (Stately Dance) by Marie Marshall
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I gaze at the sleeping you
You had destiny in your hands
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My heart was buried in an apathy of thick cement
I understand I can't live alone, even without knowing how to love
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Even though the days pass, beneath the surface
What was locked up is starting to move
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The rust-colored rose is sleeping
In eternal frailty
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What good are diamonds I wonder
They only carve out your heart
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I want to meet you once more at the place of dreams
I won't forget anything, your face, your smiling face
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Beneath the tear-colored sky
I can barely see your blurred back
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It were the Opining of this Author
That Spartans Edged to slaughter.
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Help ! Lovesick I am struck, ‘tis plain, I’m taken ill,
E’en hot and cold I blow, now hot and cold again.
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When a fair face I see I feel sudden afire, but for life lock love’s key ain’t my style spite my lyre. Constant court paid, for me, is not
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Moon, sun, both celebrate, awash with happiness,
AUtonomy: linked hands in twinkling osmosis
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Two downcast eyes tried to remember recalling fertile past's pastures.
Abandoned town counted cost of current climatic disasters.
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Good in my heart, zephyr light tinkling in your smile, echo humming : both beginning, second coming, pleasure inking,winking, thinking of s
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Gold : your voice, in my soul vibrating, as a discreet evidence, creeping into my most secret entries.
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Of a kiss I’m afraid as of bees in the skies, suffer sleeping, awake, neither rest find nor take - of fond kiss I’m afraid !
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Each night they slept in hope of epic quest,
the tropic seas’ soft phosphorescent blues
cast spells on golden dreams, - a siren muse -
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This is a very free translation of a poem orignally written in Irish by Gabriel Rosenstock. The original is as follows:
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Creature,
Lurking in the dark.
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Dansez près du rivage, pourquoi se soucier du vent, des flots, ou du bruitage. Allez vite essuyer
ces tresses trempées, salées.
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al umbral del firmamento espero, callejones debajo los pies.
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tengo un gran chanson pour toi, un gran chanson de ma vie...
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O Shepherd do not follow down the steep
ravine the sprightly leaps of that wild buck.
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Were I as Croesus rich,
of this vast Earth the lord,
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As born with Spring, with roses born away,
Breasting breeze’s wing to swing on high,
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I heard the weeping of a boy
Silently mourning thousand names
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(Middle English by Geoffrey Chaucer) (Ca. 1343~1400)
(Modern English translation by ~RJ~) (2007)
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This morning I wanted some roses to bring
but so many I took that they buckled the spring,
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Shivering leaves and starry sky,
my love has left while here I sigh
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A gourmand moth by night, unheard, had guzzled
the words by day enlightened man might write.
That God should tolerate their fate I’m puzz
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I often have some strange and striking dreams about an unknown girl, of love we share, each time the same, each time a different air
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If Life is less than one day’s passing sigh within eternity, and if the year too soon revolved, may never reappear, too soon revolved, may
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All Mankind’s felicity
stays prey to instability,
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I lived ignoring care and weight
drifted here, there, at easy gait,
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So love me now despite my frosty hair,
as I for you when old would always care.
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in fount of Youth, to drown – what need ? On half-life echo, fippled reed, why haste with such ill gotten speed, last words repeating ? Thu
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Dream waltz-mode stately-sad and langour’s dizziness
Enchanting spread scent balm upon soft evening air –
Music from violin as in heart s
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