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05-01-2006
  106
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electricladyland's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: The red hot center of my beating heart.
Gender: femme
Posts: 8,981
Ay ay ay, Teratel! (Now that’s a phrase I know very well in Spanish)…the only thing more romantic than reading Neruda, is having his poems read to you! If you have a voice like Katherine Moennig then we might have a problem…:p I love your interpretation of the poem. and i love those lines you quoted, and i really like the last two lines of the poem...:p Here’s another one for you, since you like questions…

La pregunta

Amor, una pregunta
te ha destrozado.

Yo he regresado a ti
desde la incertidumbre con espinas.

Te quiero recta como
la espada o el camino.

Pero te empeñas
en guardar un recodo
de sombra que no quiero.

Amor mío,
compréndeme,
te quiero toda,
de ojos a pies, a uñas,
por dentro,
toda la claridad, la que guardabas.

Soy yo, amor mío,
quien golpea tu puerta.
No es el fantasma, no es
el que antes se detuvo
en tu ventana.
Yo echo la puerta abajo:
yo entro en toda tu vida:
vengo a vivir en tu alma:
tú no puedes conmigo.

Tienes que abrir puerta a puerta,
tienes que obedecerme,
tienes que abrir los ojos
para que busque en ellos,
tienes que ver cómo ando
con pasos pesados
por todos los caminos
que, ciegos, me esperaban.

No me temas,
soy tuyo,
pero
no soy el pasajero ni el mendigo,
soy tu dueño,
el que tú esperabas,
y ahora entro
en tu vida,
para no salir más,
amor, amor, amor,
para quedarme.

Kisses, besos, beijos, and bisous for you too! :p

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05-01-2006
  107
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Bluestar07's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2004
Posts: 4,577
^ Electriclady, you have singlehandedly made me fall in love with Neruda!!! It's definitely so much more beautiful in Spanish. I appreciate it despite my very very elementary level of Spanish.
Wanted to give karma to you but I need to spread some reputation first. *sigh*

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05-01-2006
  108
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electricladyland's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: The red hot center of my beating heart.
Gender: femme
Posts: 8,981
^^^ Yeah, bluestar, neruda is fab!! with your new found love of him, you should watch the movie Il Postino!

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07-01-2006
  109
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Teratel's Avatar
 
Join Date: Oct 2005
Location: The Low Countries
Gender: femme
Posts: 1,657
love unconditional
Quote:
Originally Posted by electricladyland
Ay ay ay, Teratel! (Now that’s a phrase I know very well in Spanish)…the only thing more romantic than reading Neruda, is having his poems read to you! If you have a voice like Katherine Moennig then we might have a problem…:p I love your interpretation of the poem. and i love those lines you quoted, and i really like the last two lines of the poem...:p Here’s another one for you, since you like questions…

La pregunta
Beautiful! just beautiful..
Not obtrusive
just offer love
Not humble
but modest
Not arrogant
but proud
Your life
mine
Your love
mine..
together...
Past, accept, love you, unconditional.

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07-01-2006
  110
windowshopping
 
kawaii_elle's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: manila, philippines
Gender: femme
Posts: 44
this is quite a long poem, but it is my absolute favorite.

The Highwayman

PART ONE
I
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shuters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

PART TWO
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a s******ing jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

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But what was normal in the evening by the morning seems insane.
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07-01-2006
  111
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Stargirl52's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: New Zealand
Gender: femme
Posts: 1,587
Oh, I love The Highwayman!-G.

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07-01-2006
  112
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Bluestar07's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2004
Posts: 4,577
Quote:
Originally Posted by electricladyland
^^^ Yeah, bluestar, neruda is fab!! with your new found love of him, you should watch the movie Il Postino!
I'll be hunting for it ....

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08-01-2006
  113
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electricladyland's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: The red hot center of my beating heart.
Gender: femme
Posts: 8,981
Quote:
Originally Posted by Teratel
Beautiful! just beautiful..
Not obtrusive
just offer love
Not humble
but modest
Not arrogant
but proud
Your life
mine
Your love
mine..
together...
Past, accept, love you, unconditional.
your intelligence is so sexy! :p

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08-01-2006
  114
scenester
 
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: Canada
Gender: femme
Posts: 57
The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

Langston Hughes




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"Time well spent seems lonelier than ever" -Blindside
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10-01-2006
  115
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gruveechik's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: here in the great white north. boo.
Gender: femme
Posts: 742
Elephant Wondering
by Hafiz


A seed
has sprouted beneath a golden leaf
in a dark forest.

This seed is seriously contemplating,
seriously wondering about
the moseying habits
of the Elephant.

Why?

Because
in this lucid, wine-drenched tale
the Elephant is really ---
God,

Who has His big foot upon us,
upon the golden leaf under which lies
this sprouting Universe

Wherein
we are all a little concerned
and

nervous.


******************************
:p

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"The Earth is but One Country and Mankind its Citizens." Baha'u'llah

Last edited by gruveechik; 10-01-2006 at 09:01 AM.
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10-01-2006
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gruveechik's Avatar
 
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: here in the great white north. boo.
Gender: femme
Posts: 742
Here's another by Hafiz called
Wow


Where does the real poetry
come from?

From the amorous sighs
in this moist dark when making love
with form or
spirit.

Where does poetry live?

In the eye that says. "Wow wee,"
in the overpowering felt splendour
every sane mind knows
when it realizes -- our life dance
is only for a few magic
seconds.

From the heart saying,
shouting,

"I am so damn
Alive."

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"The Earth is but One Country and Mankind its Citizens." Baha'u'llah
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10-01-2006
  117
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electricladyland's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: The red hot center of my beating heart.
Gender: femme
Posts: 8,981
Two for Iemanja

Neruda
SONETO XXXIV

Eres hija del mar y prima del orégano,
nadadora, tu cuerpo es de agua pura,
cocinera, tu sangre es tierra viva
y tus costumbres son floridas y terrestres.

Al agua van tus ojos y levantan las olas,
a la tierra tus manos y saltan las semillas,
en agua y tierra tienes propiedades profundas
que en ti se juntan como las leyes de la greda.

Náyade, corta tu cuerpo la turquesa
y luego resurrecto florece en la cocina
de tal modo que asumes cuanto existe

y al fin duermes rodeada por mis brazos que apartan
de la sormbra sombría, para que tú descanses,
legumbres, algas, hierbas: la espuma de tus sueños.


cummings
because i love you)last night

clothed in sealace
appeared to me
your mind drifting
with chuckling rubbish
of pearl weed coral and stones;

lifted,and(before my
eyes sinking)inward,fled;softly
your face smile breasts gargled
by death:drowned only

again carefully through deepness to rise
these your wrists
thighs feet hands

poising
to again utterly disappear;
rushing gently swiftly creeping
through my dreams last
night,all of your
body with its spirit floated
(clothed only in

the tide's acute weaving murmur

for you, lovely!

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10-01-2006
  118
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electricladyland's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: The red hot center of my beating heart.
Gender: femme
Posts: 8,981
Quote:
Originally Posted by frozen_rain
The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

Langston Hughes



love this...bring me your dreams...heart melodies

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10-01-2006
  119
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Colette_B's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2005
Location: California
Gender: femme
Posts: 5,604
one of my favorite poets and one of the most powerful anti war poems i have read

Dulce et Decorum est (1917)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in.
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie:
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


-Wilfred Owen

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11-01-2006
  120
front row
 
Gunpowder's Avatar
 
Join Date: Oct 2005
Location: Los Angeles
Gender: femme
Posts: 229
Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

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 a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in 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.

-William Wordsworth

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-Oscar Wilde

Last edited by Gunpowder; 11-01-2006 at 12:03 AM.
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