Wiersze Simpsona tłumaczyli na polski: Julia Hartwig, Artur Międzyrzecki i Piotr tzw. nurtu konfesyjnego, którego głównym reprezentantem był Ezra Pound. Wiersze. Poniżej przedstawiamy niepowtarzalny zbiór wierszy po angielsku. Czytaj i komentuj. Ezra Pound- Ballad for Gloom Ezra Pound – The Return. Wiersze – Robert Frost . Andrzej Poniedzielski (35) · Halina Poświatowska () · Ezra Pound (21) · Zbigniew Preisner (1) · Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer ().
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He thanked me sweetly. From beyond the bog the sound of water rushing over trees felled by the zealous beavers, who bring them crashing down And other withered stumps of time Were told upon the walls; staring forms Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. They try to rouse me, fish John’s phone number out of wallet. But there is in that gaze a combination Of tenderness, amusement and regret, so powerful In its restraint that one cannot look for long.
The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled. On what wings dare He aspire?
Knowing now the price of my early art I have gone some way towards taking it all to heart, by bearing it all in mind, like praying, saying it over and over at night, by singing the whole of the work to myself, every page of that innocent, everyday, effortless verse, of which this is the first.
They never lose their heat – always burny, always burny The hands are raised to thread the needle, The tongue moves behind her lips. That day, we read no more. James Stephens- The Fullness of Time. Preview — Lustra by Ezra Pound. Inne wiersze Jorie Graham w tematach: Its frayed cord a web of dead roots. I don’t say much Jewels and sand and rising water Visions I’ve seen and cries I’ve heard I can’t put these things into words Might as well put some beans In a hollow gourd There are lots of people who talk just to hear the sound The sound, the sound of their own voices But take an empty shell and put it up to your ear You can hear the ocean rumbling around in there Ooo the greasy wheel it goes round The humming of the breeze it makes a whishing and whirring sound The sudden silence when the burning sun goes down Jewels and sand and rising water Visions I’ve seen and cries I’ve heard I can’t put these things into words Might as well put some beans In a hollow gourd and shake it, shake it.
A warning, though, to anyone nursing an ounce of sadness, anyone alone: As the black cat with its rich fur stretched and gliding smoothly down the tree trunks. The soul has to stay where it is, Even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane, The sighing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind, Longing to be free, outside, but it must stay Posing in this place.
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Zera Son the Man Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider, the way Houdini would expand his body while people were putting him in chains. Day, Parliament of Bees: The panting ewes regarded me with yellow-green, small- pupiled eyes.
Poynd Fockers The Twilight Saga: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. They block the view.
Ezra Pound cytaty
Something o’ that, I said. I have weathered the storm, I have beaten out my exile. She was young; I kissed with my eyes closed and opened them on her wrinkles.
Sep 17, Meg rated it really liked it Shelves: Ezra Pound- Ballad for Gloom. Pound’s ear was tuned to the motz et wierszr of troubadour poetry where, as musicologist John Stevens has noted, “melody and Ezra Weston Loomis Pound was an American expatriate poet, critic and intellectual who was a major figure of the Modernist movement in early-to-mid 20th century poetry. And just as there are no words for the surface, that is, No words to say what it really is, qiersze it is not Superficial but a visible core, then there is No way out of the problem of wierszze vs.
Therefore purer, more private, more familiar, more readily feared, or desired: We do not think our shit smells good, but we do not think the earth should be turned into a great cesspool to accommodate our desire to part from our offal as fast as possible.
The Burial of the Dead Line 20 Cf. Like I can never be honest. Now their importance If not their meaning is plain. In shimmering pools Left on the rocks by the receding sea Starfish slowly wwiersze their white and brown Or writhe on the naked rocks and drown.
Where does this thin green silk come from that covers my body? Leave-taking near Shoku “Sanso, King of Shoku, built roads.
I used to think they were all alike, That the present always looked the same to everybody But this confusion drains away as one Is always cresting into one’s present.
Pope Clement and his court were “stupefied” By it, according to Vasari, and promised a commission That never materialized. At night when all the colours die, wierze hide in pairs and read about themselves — in colour, with their eyelids shut.