Alas and, the elders who have lived without charity, shame
Alas and, the stylish youth who have not cared for the soul, shame
Saturday, 29 November 2014
Friday, 28 November 2014
Generation Found - Wayne Visser
Once I was a boy soldier –
Now I’m shooting hoops
I’m not the generation lost
I’m bright and landing scoops
Now I’m shooting hoops
I’m not the generation lost
I’m bright and landing scoops
Wednesday, 26 November 2014
Drowsy birds - Mihai Eminescu
Drowsy birds at even gliding,
Round about their nests alight,
In among the branches hiding . . .
Dear, good night!
Round about their nests alight,
In among the branches hiding . . .
Dear, good night!
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
Clear night - Luis G. Urbina
Whiteness of dream, whiteness of polar days,
Glistening white that blanches out the tide;
Glistening white that blanches out the tide;
Monday, 24 November 2014
Desire - Abdourahman Waberi
I am the rustling of the world
the swaying between here and elsewhere
the swaying between here and elsewhere
Sunday, 23 November 2014
Oh let me leave this world - Else Lasker-Schuler
Then you will cry for me.
Copper beeches pour fire
On my warlike dreams.
Copper beeches pour fire
On my warlike dreams.
Saturday, 22 November 2014
Wisdom - Magda Isanos
To breathe, and breathe on lightly, that is wisdom.
To find the strength to smile when teardrops flow.
To love a rose's fading, dying petals,
as quietly, so quietly, they go.
To find the strength to smile when teardrops flow.
To love a rose's fading, dying petals,
as quietly, so quietly, they go.
Friday, 21 November 2014
I do believe in happiness! - Sergei Esenin
I do believe in happiness!
The sun has not yet faded. Rays
Of sunrise like a book of prayers
Predict the happy news. Oh yes!
I do believe in happiness!
The sun has not yet faded. Rays
Of sunrise like a book of prayers
Predict the happy news. Oh yes!
I do believe in happiness!
Thursday, 20 November 2014
Down Where The Lonely Poplars Grow - Mihai Eminescu
Down where the lonely poplars grow
How often have I erred;
My steps that all the neighbours know
You only have not heard.
How often have I erred;
My steps that all the neighbours know
You only have not heard.
Wednesday, 19 November 2014
Of the deceitful brevity of life - Luis de Góngora y Argote
The arrow goes less quickly to its target,
that it bites sharply; the straining chariot
does not race more silently
over the mute sand to the finish line,
that it bites sharply; the straining chariot
does not race more silently
over the mute sand to the finish line,
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