„Lament for Pasiphaë” de Robert Graves
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer! My eye, dazzled with tears, shall dazzle yours, Conjuring you to shine and not to move. You, sun, and I all afternoon have laboured Beneath a dewless and...
View Article„Everyone Sang” de Siegfried Sassoon
Everyone suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on – on – and out of...
View Article„What the Chairman Told Tom” de Basil Bunting
Poetry? It’s a hobby. I run model trains. Mr. Shaw there breeds pigeons. Scrii Poezii? E-un hobby. Eu cumpăr trenulețe. Shaw crește porumbei. It’s not work. You don’t sweat. Nobody pays for it. You...
View Article„The Legs” de Robert Graves
There was this road, And it led up-hill, And it led down-hill, And round and in and out. Acesta era drumul, Ducea în sus, Ducea în jos, Încoace și încolo. And the traffic was legs, Legs from the knees...
View Article„Assault of Angels” de Michael Roberts
The mind trembles from the assault of angels; Running in familiar light it sees the sea, It remembers the dark subway and the lost fields of childhood, It remembers the loneliness of first love and the...
View Article„Lost Love” de Robert Graves
His eyes are quickened so with grief, He can watch a grass or leaf Every instant grow; he can Clearly through a flint wall see, Or watch the startled spirit flee From the throat of a dead man. Across...
View Article„The Mythical Journey” de Edwin Muir
First in the North. The black sea-tangle beaches, Brine-bitter stillness, tablet strewn morass, Tall women against the sky with heads covered, The witch’s house below the black-toothed mountain,...
View Article„Romance” de Robert Louis Stevenson
I will make you brooches and toys for your delight Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. I will make a palace fit for you and me Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. Ca să te-alint...
View Article„To One in Bedlam” de Ernest Dowson
With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars, Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine; Those scentless wisps of straw that, miserable, line His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull...
View Article„The Ship of Death” de D.H. Lawrence
I Now it is autumn and the falling fruit and the long journey towards oblivion. I E toamnă-acum, cad frunzele și-ncepe călătoria lungă spre uitare. The apples falling like great drops of dew to bruise...
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