melting & burning


November 6, 2016, 12:21 am
Filed under: quote | Tags: ,

“We overestimate everything we pin our love on, and for this reason it sometimes requires contradiction and criticism, for love alone is living and precious, not the object we pin it on.”
– Herman Hesse.

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De ce nu vii? (Why don’t you come) – Mihai Eminescu-
January 20, 2014, 9:51 pm
Filed under: song | Tags: ,

english translation by Corneliu M. Popescu

See the swallows quit the eaves
And fall the yellow walnut leaves,
The vines with autumn frost are numb,
Why don’t you come, why don’t you come ?

Oh, come into my arms’ embrace
That I may gaze upon your face,
And lay my head in grateful rest
Against your breast , against your breast !

Do you remember when we strayed
The meadows and the secret glade,
I kissed you midst flowering thyme
How many a time, how many a time ?

Some women on the earth there are
Whose eyes shine as the evening star,
But be their charm no matter what,
Like you they’re not, like you they’re not !

For you shine in my soul always
More softly than the starlight blaze,
More splendid than the risen sun,
Beloved one, beloved one !

But it is late in autumn now,
The leaves have fallen from the bough,
The fields are bare, the birds are dumb…
Why don’t you come, why don’t you come ?



Amid the Noise of the Ball – Aleksey Tolstoy
January 20, 2014, 9:42 pm
Filed under: poem, song | Tags:

Средь шумного бала, случайно,
В тревоге мирской суеты,
Тебя я увидел, но тайна
Твои покрывала черты.

Лишь очи печально глядели,
А голос так дивно звучал,
Как звон отдалённой свирели,
Как моря [играющий]1 вал.

Мне стан твой понравился тонкий
И весь твой задумчивый вид,
А смех твой, и грустный, и звонкий,
С тех пор в моём сердце звучит.

В часы одинокие ночи
Люблю я, усталый, прилечь;
Я вижу печальные очи,
Я слышу веселую речь,

И грустно я, грустно так засыпаю,
И в грёзах неведомых сплю…
Люблю ли тебя, я не знаю,
Но кажется мне, что люблю!

 

In the midst of the noisy ball,
amid the anxious bustle of life,
I caught sight of you,
your face, an enigma.

Only your eyes gazed sadly.
Your divine voice
Sounded like pipes from afar,
Like the dancing waves of the sea.

Your delicate form entranced me,
and your pensiveness,
your sad yet merry laughter,
has permeated my heart since then.

And in the lonely hours of the night,
when I do lie down to rest,
I see your pensive eyes,
hear your merry laugh…

And wistfully drifting
into mysterious reveries,
I wonder if I love you,
but it seems that I do!



Freedom – Bukowski
January 20, 2014, 7:45 pm
Filed under: poem | Tags: , ,

he drank wine all night of the
28th, and he kept thinking of her:
the way she walked and talked and loved
the way she told him things that seemed true
but were not, and he knew the color of each
of her dresses
and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of
each heel
as well as the leg shaped by it.

and she was out again and when he came home,and
she’d come back with that special stink again,
and she did
she came in at 3 a.m in the morning
filthy like a dung eating swine
and
he took out a butchers knife
and she screamed
backing into the rooming house wall
still pretty somehow
in spite of love’s reek
and he finished the glass of wine.

that yellow dress
his favorite
and she screamed again.

and he took up the knife
and unhooked his belt
and tore away the cloth before her
and cut off his balls.

and carried them in his hands
like apricots
and flushed them down the
toilet bowl
and she kept screaming
as the room became red

GOD O GOD!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

and he sat there holding 3 towels
between his legs
no caring now whether she left or
stayed
wore yellow or green or
anything at all.

and one hand holding and one hand
lifting he poured
another wine
Charles Bukowski



I’ve Been Waiting These Thirty Years – Anna Świrszczyńska
January 20, 2014, 7:28 pm
Filed under: poem | Tags: ,

That young beanpole was maybe six feet tall,
that light-hearted worker from Powiśle
who fought
in the hell of Zielna Street, in the telephone building.
When I changed the bandage on
his leg that was torn open
he winced, he laughed.

‘When the war’s over
we’ll go dancing, miss.
It’s on me’.

I’ve been waiting for him
these thirty years.

Translated from the Polish by Magnus Jan Keynski and Robert A. Maguire



Habanera, from Bizet’s Carmen
January 19, 2014, 2:05 pm
Filed under: song | Tags: ,

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser,
Et c’est bien in vain qu’on l’appelle
S’il lui convient de refuser.
Rien n’y fait, menace ou prière.
L’un parle bien, l’autre se tait.
Et c’est l’autre que je préfère.
Il n’a rien dit mais il me plait.

L’amour! L’amour! L’amour! L’amour!

L’amour est enfant de Bohême,
Il n’a jamais jamais connu de loi.
Si tou ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime.
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!

Si tou ne m’aimes pas, si tou ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime,
Mais si je t’aime, si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!

L’oiseau que tu croyais surprendere
Battit d’aile et s’envola.
L’amour est loin, tu peux l’attendre.
Tu ne l’attends pas, il est là.

Tout atour de toi, vite vite,
Il vient, s’en va, puis il revient.
Tu crois le tenir, il t’evite.
Tu crois l’eviter, il te tient.

L’amour! L’amour! L’amour! L’amour!
L’amour est enfant de Bohême,
Il n’a jamais jamais connu de loi.
Si tou ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime.
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!

Si tou ne m’aimes pas, si tou ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime,
Mais si je t’aime, si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!

 

English Translation

Love is a rebellious bird
that nobody can tame,
and you call him quite in vain
if it suits him not to come.
Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer.
One man talks well, the other’s mum;
it’s the other one that I prefer.
He’s silent but I like his looks.

Love! Love! Love! Love!

Love is a gypsy’s child,
it has never, ever, known a law;
love me not, then I love you;
if I love you, you’d best beware! etc.

The bird you thought you had caught
beat its wings and flew away …
love stays away, you wait and wait;
when least expected, there it is!

All around you, swift, so swift,
it comes, it goes, and then returns …
you think you hold it fast, it flees
you think you’re free, it holds you fast.

Love! Love! Love! Love!

Love is a gypsy’s child,
it has never, ever, known a law;
love me not, then I love you;
if I love you, you’d best beware!



Stars – David Malouf
January 15, 2014, 2:15 pm
Filed under: poem | Tags: , ,

The stars have so far to go
alone or in harness
across a window pane.

Hour after hour tonight
I’ve journeyed with them, steady
the waves of your breath.

Dark space between our beds;
on the table a full tumbler
splits the light of stars

to stars, or floats
a column of dead water,
dead sky. From centuries

off, out of the reign
of one of nineteen pharaohs
a planet’s dust, metallic,

alive, is sifted down,
hovers in a bright
arc upon your cheek.

Miraculous! I lean
across the dark and touch it,
you smile in your sleep.

How far, how far we’ve come
together, tumbling like stars
in harness or alone