Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Zapada
As vrea sa ma plimb prin zapada ta...prima zapada pe care vei calca; pentru ca a mea este veche...este calda si uitata; poate invinsa de Timp...sau nu, ci doar atinsa de el; nici urmele nu mai sunt, desi pareau atat de hotarate. Alte urme de pasi sau de aripi se vor naste...si pe acelea le-as putea atinge.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Apology
Daca esti femeie, scrie-ti numele...iar daca esti barbat, scrie numele femeii iubite aici:
preluat de la http://danielroxin.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Sometimes The Sky's Too Bright
Sometimes the sky's too bright,
Or has too many clouds or birds,
And far away's too sharp a sun
To nourish thinking of him.
Why is my hand too blunt
To cut in front of me
My horrid images for me,
Of over-fruitful smiles,
The weightless touching of the lip
I wish to know I cannot lift, but can,
The creature with the angel's face
Who tells me hurt, And sees my body go
Down into misery? No stopping.
Put the smile Where tears have come to dry.
The angel's hurt is left; His telling burns.
Sometimes a woman's heart has salt,
Or too much blood;
I tear her breast, And see the blood is mine,
Flowing from her, but mine, And then I think
Perhaps the sky's too bright;
And watch my hand,But do not follow it,
And feel the pain it gives, But do not ache.
Or has too many clouds or birds,
And far away's too sharp a sun
To nourish thinking of him.
Why is my hand too blunt
To cut in front of me
My horrid images for me,
Of over-fruitful smiles,
The weightless touching of the lip
I wish to know I cannot lift, but can,
The creature with the angel's face
Who tells me hurt, And sees my body go
Down into misery? No stopping.
Put the smile Where tears have come to dry.
The angel's hurt is left; His telling burns.
Sometimes a woman's heart has salt,
Or too much blood;
I tear her breast, And see the blood is mine,
Flowing from her, but mine, And then I think
Perhaps the sky's too bright;
And watch my hand,But do not follow it,
And feel the pain it gives, But do not ache.
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
A Process In the Weather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
the bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their douible shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
the bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their douible shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
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