Coleridge, The pains of sleep
06/12/2015 § Σχολιάστε
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees;
But silently, by slow degrees,
My spirit I to Love compose,
In humble trust mine eye-lids close,
With reverential resignation
No wish conceived, no thought exprest,
Only a sense of supplication;
A sense o’er all my soul imprest
That I am weak, yet not unblest,
Since in me, round me, every where
Eternal strength and Wisdom are.
Fragmentum
21/11/2015 § Σχολιάστε
Τέλλος Άγρας 1899 – 1944
Ήθελες κάτι να μου πης και δε σου το ρωτούσα
(Το καλοκαίρι είχε σωθή και τ’ άνθη που αγαπούσα).
Ήθελες κάτι να μου πης και το ‘χα λησμονήσει
(τη ρίζα που καθόμαστε – θυμάσαι – έχουν γκρεμνίσει).
(Είχε από τότε εντός μου σε φθινόπωρο γυρίσει).
Μου είπες, α, ναι! – πως μ’ αγαπάς – μα το ‘χω λησμονήσει…
*
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Fernando Pessoa, Aches to a narrowness of spilled distraction
10/11/2015 § Σχολιάστε
Sonnet V
Casa Fernando Pessoa, R. Coelho da Rocha 16, 1250-088 Lisboa.
How can I think, or edge my thoughts to action,
When the miserly press of each day’s need
Aches to a narrowness of spilled distraction
My soul appalled at the world’s work’s time-greed?
How can I pause my thoughts upon the task
My soul was born to think that it must do
When every moment has a thought to ask
To fit the immediate craving of its cue?
The coin I’d heap for marrying my Muse
And build our home i’th’ greater Time-to-be
Becomes dissolved by needs of each day’s use
And I feel beggared of infinity,
Like a true-Christian sinner, each day flesh-driven
By his own act to forfeit his wished heaven.
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photo©agrimologos.com 2015
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I wonder what they meant when they said Repent Repent
27/10/2015 § Σχολιάστε
Plaisir: Leonard Cohen
«The Future»
Give me back my broken night
my mirrored room, my secret life
it’s lonely here,
there’s no one left to torture
Give me absolute control
over every living soul
And lie beside me, baby,
that’s an order!
Give me crack and anal sex
Take the only tree that’s left
and stuff it up the hole
in your culture
Give me back the Berlin wall
give me Stalin and St Paul
I’ve seen the future, brother:
it is murder.
Things are going to slide, slide in all directions
Won’t be nothing
Nothing you can measure anymore
The blizzard, the blizzard of the world
has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned
the order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
You don’t know me from the wind
you never will, you never did
I’m the little jew
who wrote the Bible
I’ve seen the nations rise and fall
I’ve heard their stories, heard them all
but love’s the only engine of survival
Your servant here, he has been told
to say it clear, to say it cold:
It’s over, it ain’t going
any further
And now the wheels of heaven stop
you feel the devil’s riding crop
Get ready for the future:
it is murder
Things are going to slide …
There’ll be the breaking of the ancient
western code
Your private life will suddenly explode
There’ll be phantoms
There’ll be fires on the road
and the white man dancing
You’ll see a woman
hanging upside down
her features covered by her fallen gown
and all the lousy little poets
coming round
tryin’ to sound like Charlie Manson
and the white man dancin’
Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St Paul
Give me Christ
or give me Hiroshima
Destroy another fetus now
We don’t like children anyhow
I’ve seen the future, baby:
it is murder
Things are going to slide …
When they said REPENT REPENT …
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