Re: How To Speak Poetry
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2011 10:40 pm
"I've often lost myself,
in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake"
~ Federico García Lorca
. . . . .
Vacant days, what shall become
of me? At nightfall
already conquered in our dreams,
facing a wall, uncertain we stumble
and go astray. To fall as night falls
without deceit, on any bed
which chance interposes, in search
of the most modest and white caress.
Tell me, my soul, elect
or favored, friend of the Lord
in the star filled night, how
bar the day from that blinding light.
(william-carlos-williamss-translation-of-ernesto-mejia-sanchezs-vigils)
. . . . .
I was so I
And you were so you
The crisis was light
As a feather…
One two three, one two three, One
. . . . .
I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there's only one bed and there's only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair.
. . . . .
And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?
. . . . .
You know who I am,
you've stared at the sun,
well I am the one who loves
changing from nothing to one.
. . . . .
Your beauty lost to you yourself
just as it was lost to them.
Oh take this longing from my tongue,
whatever useless things these hands have done.
Let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love.
. . . . .
So I knelt there at the delta,
at the alpha and the omega,
I knelt there like one who believes.
And the blessings come from heaven
and for something like a second
I'm cured and my heart
is at ease.
. . . . .
You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
. . . . .
Oh, my love is like a seed, baby, just needs time to grow,
It's growing stronger day by day, yeah,
That's the price you've got to pay.
Trust in my love, in my heart.
Keep the faith, baby, keep the faith in me, dear, in my love.
. . . . .
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
. . . . .
In this life
I want nothing more
Than to love what I'm living for
With the joy
You have brought to me
You inspire the song I sing
The spirit of love
Has kept us united
Being together was meant to be
As a river flows to the sea
. . . . .
"I lie in her arms, she says, When I'm gone, I'll be yours, yours for a song.
. . . . .
Hour of Stars
The round silence of night,
one note on the stave
of the infinite.
Ripe with lost poems,
I step naked into the street.
The blackness riddled
by the singing of crickets:
sound,
that dead
will-o'-the-wisp,
that musical light
perceived
by the spirit.
A thousand butterfly skeletons
sleep within my walls.
A wild crowd of young breezes
over the river."
~ Federico García Lorca
. . . . .
True love leaves no traces
If you and I are one
It's lost in our embraces
Like stars against the sun
. . . . .
And those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
And "Welcome, welcome" cries a voice
"Let all my guests come in."
And no one knows where the night is going ...
Those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
Those who earnestly are lost
Are lost and lost again
. . . . .
Then lay your rose on the fire
The fire give up to the sun
The sun give over to splendour
In the arms of the high holy one
For the holy one dreams of a letter
Dreams of a letter's death
Oh bless thee continuous stutter
Of the word being made into flesh
. . . . .
And the light came from her body
And the night went through her grace
All summer long she touched me
And I knew her, I knew her
Face to face
. . . . .
I was so I
And you were so you
The crisis was light
As a feather…
One two three, one two three One
. . . . .
Pain does not point
either to movement or
movelessness. Thus
sway dancing between
the hurt and the joy
so that I no longer know
whether I live
or swoon. Let me spin
if I would persist.
(william-carlos-williamss-translation-of-ernesto-mejia-sanchezs-vigils)
. . . . .
it is not necessary to be in love
or to be in love with butterflies
. . . . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUszJI_6WPA
. . . . .
in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake"
~ Federico García Lorca
. . . . .
Vacant days, what shall become
of me? At nightfall
already conquered in our dreams,
facing a wall, uncertain we stumble
and go astray. To fall as night falls
without deceit, on any bed
which chance interposes, in search
of the most modest and white caress.
Tell me, my soul, elect
or favored, friend of the Lord
in the star filled night, how
bar the day from that blinding light.
(william-carlos-williamss-translation-of-ernesto-mejia-sanchezs-vigils)
. . . . .
I was so I
And you were so you
The crisis was light
As a feather…
One two three, one two three, One
. . . . .
I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there's only one bed and there's only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair.
. . . . .
And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?
. . . . .
You know who I am,
you've stared at the sun,
well I am the one who loves
changing from nothing to one.
. . . . .
Your beauty lost to you yourself
just as it was lost to them.
Oh take this longing from my tongue,
whatever useless things these hands have done.
Let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love.
. . . . .
So I knelt there at the delta,
at the alpha and the omega,
I knelt there like one who believes.
And the blessings come from heaven
and for something like a second
I'm cured and my heart
is at ease.
. . . . .
You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
. . . . .
Oh, my love is like a seed, baby, just needs time to grow,
It's growing stronger day by day, yeah,
That's the price you've got to pay.
Trust in my love, in my heart.
Keep the faith, baby, keep the faith in me, dear, in my love.
. . . . .
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
. . . . .
In this life
I want nothing more
Than to love what I'm living for
With the joy
You have brought to me
You inspire the song I sing
The spirit of love
Has kept us united
Being together was meant to be
As a river flows to the sea
. . . . .
"I lie in her arms, she says, When I'm gone, I'll be yours, yours for a song.
. . . . .
Hour of Stars
The round silence of night,
one note on the stave
of the infinite.
Ripe with lost poems,
I step naked into the street.
The blackness riddled
by the singing of crickets:
sound,
that dead
will-o'-the-wisp,
that musical light
perceived
by the spirit.
A thousand butterfly skeletons
sleep within my walls.
A wild crowd of young breezes
over the river."
~ Federico García Lorca
. . . . .
True love leaves no traces
If you and I are one
It's lost in our embraces
Like stars against the sun
. . . . .
And those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
And "Welcome, welcome" cries a voice
"Let all my guests come in."
And no one knows where the night is going ...
Those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
Those who earnestly are lost
Are lost and lost again
. . . . .
Then lay your rose on the fire
The fire give up to the sun
The sun give over to splendour
In the arms of the high holy one
For the holy one dreams of a letter
Dreams of a letter's death
Oh bless thee continuous stutter
Of the word being made into flesh
. . . . .
And the light came from her body
And the night went through her grace
All summer long she touched me
And I knew her, I knew her
Face to face
. . . . .
I was so I
And you were so you
The crisis was light
As a feather…
One two three, one two three One
. . . . .
Pain does not point
either to movement or
movelessness. Thus
sway dancing between
the hurt and the joy
so that I no longer know
whether I live
or swoon. Let me spin
if I would persist.
(william-carlos-williamss-translation-of-ernesto-mejia-sanchezs-vigils)
. . . . .
it is not necessary to be in love
or to be in love with butterflies
. . . . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUszJI_6WPA
. . . . .