Topic: poezii pentru trecatorul

[alien]

asta e una din favoritele mele. right now, I feel like the man, indifferent, detached from most things. it's not a welcome feeling...

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death by W.B. Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate
 Somewhere among the clouds above;
 Those that I fight I do not hate,
 Those that I guard I do not love;
 My country is Kiltartan Cross,
 My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
 No likely end could bring them loss
 Or leave them happier than before.
 Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
 Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
 A lonely impulse of delight
 Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
 I balanced all, brought all to mind,
 The years to come seemed waste of breath,
 A waste of breath the years behind
 In balance with this life, this death.

[alien]

I'm longing for spring...

Daffodils by W. Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed --- and gazed --- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

[trecatorul]

bineinteles ca a doua poezie imi place mai mult....mi se potriveste...
imi pare rau alien, imi pare rau ca te simti  apropiat de yeats...poezia e superba...tristetea de nemasurat...intregu-mi trup se razvrateste citind-o....mintea, sufletul....imi este frica de intunericul ei....si fug spre lumina....fie ea si sub forma unei papadii galbene si jucause...
fug spre zapada alba...
nu o auzi cum scirtiie sub talpile bocancilor?
nu ii vezi sclipirea...?!
nu ii primesti imbierea de a te rostogoli in ea...de a te imbraca in haina ei ?!

odihna alien....caci e un drum in fata ta....!~
o noapte buna ....

[alien]

fug spre zapada alba...
nu o auzi cum scirtiie sub talpile bocancilor?
nu ii vezi sclipirea...?!
nu ii primesti imbierea de a te rostogoli in ea...de a te imbraca in haina ei ?!

I neither see nor feel such tingles of joy. It's just another bleak winter. I hide from it si ma hranesc cu "clipe furate" din vara.

Sonnet 97: How like a winter hath my absence been by William Shakespeare
     
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widowed wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemed to me
But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit,
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute.
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.