Quand Je Suis de Vous Absente

Quand je suis de vous absente

Sincero, mon beau soleil,

Je n'ai rien qui me contente,

La nuit je perds le sommeil;

Le jour je fuis la lumière ;

Et mes tristes yeux enclos

Prisonniers de la paupière,

Ne sont jamais en repos.

Je n'aime de la prairie

Le bel émail précieux,

Ni la campagne fleurie

Ne saurait plaire à mes yeux;

Je suis tant mélancolique

Que les plus gracieux sons

Et la plus douce musique

M'ennuient de leurs chansons.

Je ne veux ouïr personne

Pour discourir ou parler;

Je n'entends rien qui résonne,

Que ma plainte dedans l'air.

Mes compagnes qui s'ennuient

De mon amoureux émoi,

Toutes dépites s'enfuient

Et se retirent de moi.

Jamais on ne me voit rire,

Jamais on ne me voit chanter;

Incessamment je soupire

Et ne fais que lamenter;

Je n'ai bien, plaisir ni joie;

Sincero, mon cher souci,

Jusqu'à ce que je vous vois, 

Je serai toujours ainsi

Madeleine Des Roches 

(1520-1587)

I Am The Night

I Am The Night

I've considered the night

as the moon's influence grew

over the sky.

I've sat with the night

when the only rain to touch the ground

is salted with regret,

and hastened by emotion.

I've become the night

when the sun falls off my sky

boiling itself into nothingness

as the moon's cold reign commences.

When no moon's white grace

could be reflected in a lover's eye,

I am the night

and I miss the sun dearly.

Michael Ardizzone

Photo: Hydra Artwork 

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -

This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -

'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -

Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'

Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee

Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -

On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Photo: Hydra Artwork

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Robert Frost (1874-1963)

If You Forget Me

I want you to know one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look at the crystal moon,
 at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember that on that day,
at that hour, I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

Photo: Evgenija Bitter

The Lady And The Dragonfly

She was a lady

That found a Dragonfly

She admired one day 

Marveled at it's flight 

Wondered at it's colors 

Thought it must have a sort of might 

It sat on a stream without others 

Marveled that alone it lived each day and night

Then it flew away 

Almost like a dream 

And the lady went about her walk 

Realising the Dragonfly watched it seemed 

When she tried to it to talk.

She a lady, that found a Dragonfly. 

Bullion Grey (1960- )

Photo: Banded Demoiselle (Calopteryx Splendens)

My Love For You Is Like the Wind

My love for you is like the wind. 

Sometimes it blows in silence.

Sometimes it is a gentle breeze,

That whispers tender words of love to my ear,

Refreshes my soul and makes me fly above the clouds.

Sometimes it is a bracing blast,

That revives my senses,

And makes me feel alive.

Sometimes it is a hurricane that blows my mind away,

Lights up my fire,

And carries me away in a whirl of desire.

I dream of your warm embrace,

Where I can feel safe and secure.

Sleeping in your arms,

This is where I belong.

.. To my Beloved

Photo: Zemotion

Friendship and Love

This is a poem from the great Muslim scholar Imam Shafi'i (766-820). Wise and true words..

إذا المرء لا يرعاك إلا تكلفا * فدعه ولا تكثر عليه التأسفا

If their caring for you is conditional,

Leave them and do not lament their friendship

ففي الناس إبدال وفي الترك راحة * وفي القلب صبر للحبيب ولو جفا 

Friends can be replaced and with abandonment comes comfort,

And in the heart there is patience for the cruel beloved

فما كل من تهواه يهواك قلبه * ولا كل من صافيته لك قد صفا 

Not all whom you desire have passion for you in their heart,

Nor all whom you have trusted are as sincere

إذا لم يكن صفو الوداد طبيعة * فلا خير في ود يجئ تكلفا 

If purity of heart is not in their nature,

Then there is no good in intimacy that comes forced

ولا خير في خل يخون خليله * ويلقاه من بعد المودة بالجفا 

And there is no good in a lover/friend who deceives his loved one

And after the love he meets him with cruelty

وينكر عيشا قد تقادم عهده * ويظهر سرا كان بالامس قد خفا 

Who denies a living whose time has ended 

And he reveals a secret that was once hidden

سلام على الدنيا إذا لم يكن بها * صديق صدوق صادق الوعد منصفا 

Say goodbye to the world, if in it there was no

 faithful friend, who’s honest in his promises, and who shows equality

صن النفس واحملها على ما يزينها * تعش سالما والقول فيك جميل 

Uphold the soul, and carry it on what beautifies it

And you’ll live in peace, and the talk about you would be good

ولا تولين الناس الا تجملا * نبا بك دهر او جفاك خليل 

And don’t talk about people unless in good words

No matter how time is cruel to you, or how cold a friend acts towards you

وان ضاق رزق اليوم فاصبر الى غد* عسى نكبات الدهر عنك تزول 

And if today’s sustenance was tight, wait till tomorrow

Hopefully the catastrophes of time will go away from you

ولا خير في ود امرئ متلون * إذا الريح مالت ، مال حيث تميل 

And there is no good in the love of a colorful person

When the wind blows, he sways as the winds do

وما أكثر الإخوان حين تعدهم * ولكنهم في النائبات قليل 

And oh! how many brothers there are once you count them

But in the hard times you find very little of them

احب الصالحين ولست منهم * لعلي ان انال بهم شفاعه 

I like good people, but I’m not one of them

Maybe from them i might gain some intercession

واكره من تجارته المعاصي * ولو كنا سواء في البضاعه 

And I hate who’s trade is in sins

Even if we were equal in merchandise

تموت الأسد في الغابات جوعا * ولحم الضأن تأكله الكلاب 

Lions die from hunger in forests

And the meat of veal is eaten by dogs

وعبد قد ينام على حرير * وذو نسب مفارشــه التـــراب

And a slave might sleep on silk

When soil is the bed of the noble man 

Source: http://www.allthelyrics.com

When He Calls Me Reyna..

***

Inexistente es belleza mayor.

Dichoso es el cielo

por resguardarte en su manto

y bendia la tierra que pisas.

Que la muerte camine lento

pues llevará tiempo

llenar mis pulmones con tu aroma.

Y si la muerte me alcanza

sin importancia me tiene

pues dueña eres de mi vida

desde que conocí tu piel.

***

Photo: Bernardo Alatorre.

No Te Quiero Sino Porque Te Quiero

No te quiero sino porque te quiero

y de quererte a no quererte llego

y de esperarte cuando no te espero 

pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego.

Te quiero sólo porque a ti te quiero, 

te odio sin fin, y odiándote te ruego, 

y la medida de mi amor viajero 

es no verte y amarte como un ciego.

Tal vez consumirá la luz de enero, 

su rayo cruel, mi corazón entero, 

robándome la llave del sosiego.

En esta historia sólo yo me muero 

y moriré de amor porque te quiero, 

porque te quiero, amor, a sangre y fuego.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

***

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;

I go from loving to not loving you,

From waiting to not waiting for you

My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;

I hate you deeply, and hating you

Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you

Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume

My heart with its cruel

Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Photo: Bernardo Alatorre. 

Ojos de Fuego

***

Al caer la oscuridad tus ojos de fuego, me ilumbran esta oscuridad que tengo en mi alma.

Ojos de fuego, dime donde encuentro la chisma que hace salir de las sombras al mundo de los vivos.

Dime si en la oscuridad sere feliz al ver tus ojos que me mantendrán de pie a pesar de los temoros, 

ni mil demonios me podrán derrotar al estar tu junto a mi.

Ojos de fuego! Dime donde estas ya que no te encuentro

Ojos de fuego! Estes donde estes la llave de tu alma me mantiene de pie.

Tus labios susurran como el viento ante los muertos.

Ojos de fuego! Estes donde estes siempre seras mi angel

Ojos de fuego! Dime donde estas ya que no te encuentro

Ojos de fuego! Estes donde estes la llave de tu alma me mantiene de pie.

Tu mirada ilumino mi alma hecha pedaso por el tiempo en la oscuridad

Tus ojos son la puerta de mi alma

Ojos de fuego tu mirada de esperanza esta una y otra ves

Ojos de fuego! Tu corazón en mi alma .. para toda la vida.

***

Thanks Juan

Photo: (My eyes) Juan Andres Vidal.

A Dream Within a Dream

***

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep, while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

***

Photo: Elena Kalis