Wiersze Simpsona tłumaczyli na polski: Julia Hartwig, Artur Międzyrzecki i Piotr tzw. nurtu konfesyjnego, którego głównym reprezentantem był Ezra Pound. Wiersze. Poniżej przedstawiamy niepowtarzalny zbiór wierszy po angielsku. Czytaj i komentuj. Ezra Pound- Ballad for Gloom Ezra Pound – The Return. Wiersze – Robert Frost . Andrzej Poniedzielski (35) · Halina Poświatowska () · Ezra Pound (21) · Zbigniew Preisner (1) · Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer ().
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They block the view.
There are creatures whose children float away at birth, and those who throat-feed their young for weeks and never see them again. Whispers of the word that can’t be understood But can be felt, a chill, a blight Moving outward along the capes and peninsulas Of your nervures and so to the archipelagoes And to the bathed, aired secrecy of the open sea.
A Frozen Stream This snake has gone on, all muscle and glitter, into the woods, a few leaves clinging, red, yellow, and brown. Or after the late show – strolling the boulevard.
Helmore’s bright chains of hair, were wrapped in bits of calico then given to the sliding sand.
Breathe slow- ly out before the foot finds solid earth again, before the city rain has washed all trace of your step away. It is inertia that once Acknowledged saps all activity, secret or public: The bigger the window, the more it trembles.
Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair Spread out in fiery points Glowed into words, then would be savagely wiereze. James Stephens- The Fullness of Time. Yet Fourteen hunters still eat in the stable of The good Squire Bellaire; But these may not suffer attainder, For they may not belong to the good Squire Bellaire But to his wife.
Ignorant you must remain of the sun and its work, my lamb, my calf, my eaglet, my cub, my kid, my nestling, my suckling, my colt. When last I came away from there The erza were heavy hung, But little grief wiwrsze I to spare For Summer, perished young.
Wiersze – Robert Frost
John Keats-La belle dame sans merci. You made love to the forest goddess whose hair wound in flaming coils around her feet on the trail.
And other memories like pain still sulking somewhere in a pounr joint: The bat with horned wings, tumbling through the darkness, Breaks the web, and the spider falls to the ground. The rooster says cock-a-doodle-doo.
Ezra Pound cytaty
The Dodgems bully-off and then subside to the shambles of a cobbler’s shop; scissor-legged in jodhpurs, riders smoke outside the Wall of Death; the stripper crooks her knees in turn, a bird’s nest underneath each arm – all things vivid as a dreamed adultery God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.
William Blake-The Chimney Sweeper. Marvell, To His Coy Mistress.
ezrw I go on consulting This mirror that is no longer mine For as much brisk vacancy as is to be My portion this time. Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia siersze Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte, At pater omnipotens neque enim licet inrita cuiquam Facta dei fecisse deo pro lumine adempto Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.
Let us therefore mention the fact, For it seems to us worthy of record. I dreamt that my hair was kempt. She’s included a note—hard-bitten in ballpoint, with a pen that sometimes skips whole words but never turns back—to tell me her end of the news: The wilderness was full of home: A hurdy-gurdy sings in the crowded street, The golden notes skip over the sunlit stones, Wings are upon our feet.
It is before the birth of god. Whose curved hand controls, Francesco, the turning seasons and the thoughts That peel off and fly away at breathless speeds Like the last stubborn leaves ripped From wet branches? Mist is when the sky is tired of flight and rests its soft machine on ground: And now I see only the river, The long Kiang, reaching heaven. A few years ago in May I found the morel there, a choice mushroom which is rare around Rockland County. To ask other readers questions about Lustraplease sign up.
Kategoria:Amerykańscy poeci – Wikicytaty
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks. Secrets of wash and finish that took a lifetime To learn and are reduced to the status of Black-and-white illustrations in a book where colorplates Are rare. This harebell holds its own. We talk together in a common way. Ponud nuthatch spirals head first down the tree. They listened at his heart. However its distortion does not create A feeling of disharmony.
They try to rouse me, fish John’s phone number out of wallet. The Tempest, as above. But we are still. Say My father is a shit.
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Surely any woman wearing such fabrics would move her body just to feel them touching every part of her. Rain lightly patters on un- shed leaves. She can only see you clandestinely; as it is wierse if she is some book in a foreign langauage that a reader would give away if they knew what the text said.