Speak in Poetry

[JakeTulane]

Hor che'l ciel, e la terra, e'l vento tace,
E le fere, e gli augelli sonno affrena,
Notte il carro stellato in giro mena,
E nel suo letto il mar senz'onda giace;
Veglio, penso, ardo, piango; e chi mi sface,
Sempre m' innanzi per mia dolce pena:
Guerra il mio stato, d'ira e di duol piena;
E sol di lei pensando ho qualche pace:

Cosoe sol d'una chiara fonte viva Move il dolce,
e l'amaro, ond'io mi pasco: Una man sola mi risana,
e punge; E perch il mio martir non giunga a riva,
Mille volte il doe moro, e mille nasco;
Tanto dalla salute mia son lunge.

Translation:

Now, while the heavens, and the earth, and the winds are still, And beasts and birds are locked in sleep,
Night's starry chariot makes its circles, and in its bed the ocean lies waveless;
I watch, I think, I burn, I weep, and she who caused my anguish is ever present, and remains, to my sweet pain:
Warfare is my state, full of anger and pain, and only thoughts of her bring any peace.

Thus from one pure and living fount flows the sweetness and the suffering on which I feed;
a single hand restores me and wounds;
and, since my anguish knows no end, a thousand times a day I die,
and a thousand times I am born,
so great is the distance from my salvation.

[JakeTulane]

mi son giovinetta, e volentieri
m' allegro e canto en la stagion novella,
merzè d' amore e de' dolci pensieri.

Io vo pe' verdi prati riguardando
I bianchi fiori e' gialli et i vermigli,
le rose in su le spini e i bianchi gigli ;
e tutti quanti gli vo somigliando
al viso di colui, che me, amando,
ha presa e terrà sempre, come quella
eh' altro non ha in disio che' e' suoi piaceri.

De' quai quando io ne truovo alcun che sia,
al mio parer, ben simile di lui,
il colgo e bacio e parlomi con lui,
e com' io so, così 1' anima mia
tututta gli apro, e ciò che '1 cor disia :
quindi con altri il metto in ghirlandella
legato co' miei crin biondi e leggieri.

E quel piacer, che di natura il fiore
agli occhi porge, quel simil me '1 dona
che s' io vedessi la propia persona
che m' ha accesa del suo dolce amore ;
quel che mi faccia più il suo odore,
esprimer no '1 potrei con la favella ;
ma i sospiri ne son testimon veri.

Li quai non escon già mai del mio petto,
come dell' altre donne, aspri né gravi,
ma se ne vengon fuor caldi e soavi,
et al mio amor sen vanno nel cospetto ;
il quai, come gli sente, a dar diletto
di sé a me si muove, e viene in quella
eh' i' son per dir : " Deh vien, eh' i' non disperi ! "



Translation:


I am young and fain to sing
In this happy tide of spring
Of love and many a gentle thing.

I wander through green meadows gazing
With blossoms gold and red and white ;
Rose by the thorn and lily fair,
Both one and all I do compare
With him who, worshipping my charms,
For aye would fold me in his arms
As one unto his service sworn.

Then, when I find a flower that seems
Like to the object of my dreams,
I gather it and kiss it there,
I flatter it in accents fair,
My heart outpour, my soul stoop down,
Then weave it in a fragrant crown
Among my flaxen locks to wear.

The rapture nature's floweret gay
Awakes in me doth last alway.
As if I tarried face to face
With him whose true love is my grace ;
Thoughts which its fragrancy inspires
I cannot frame to my desires,
My sighs their pilgrimage do trace.

My sighs are neither harsh nor sad
As other women's are, but glad
And tender ; in so fond a wise
They seek my love that he replies
By coming hither, and so gives
Delight to her who in him lives
Yet almost wept : " Come, for hope dies.'

[JakeTulane]

With A Flower

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
you, unsuspecting, wear me too --
And angels know the rest.

I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
you, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.

- Emily Dickinson

[JakeTulane]

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

- ee cummings

[JakeTulane]

Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day's close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland.

Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day's loss
Wrote in tears the heart's loss.

Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.

[JakeTulane]

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

[JakeTulane]

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:
And love is fire. And when I say at need
I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee—in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.