Under A Portrait Of Jukowsky
The charm and sweetness of his magic verse
Will mock the envious years for centuries!
Since youth, on hearing them, for glory burns,
The wordless sorrow comfort in them sees,
And careless joy to wistful musing turns.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Related quotes
Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A Kind Of Magic
Words and music by roger taylor
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
A kind of magic
One dream one soul one prize one goal
One golden glance of what should be
Its a kind of magic
One shaft of light that shows the way
No mortal man can win this day
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
The waiting seems eternity
The day will dawn of sanity
Is this a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done
This flame that burns inside of me
Im here in secret harmonies
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
The rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be will soon be
Will soon be done
This is a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done-done
Magic - its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
Magic magic magic magic
Ha ha ha its magic
Its a kind of magic
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam
How blessed with thee the path could I have trod
Of quiet life, above cold want's hard fate,
(And little wishing more) nor of the great
Envious, or their proud name; but it pleased GOD
To take thee to his mercy: thou didst go
In youth and beauty to thy cold death-bed;
Even whilst on dreams of bliss we fondly fed,
Of years to come of comfort! Be it so.
Ere this I have felt sorrow; and even now,
Though sometimes the unbidden tear will start,
And half unman the miserable heart,
The cold dew I shall wipe from my sad brow,
And say, since hopes of bliss on earth are vain,
Best friend, farewell, till we do meet again!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Unwind
Verse 1
I hide my pain like the rest of them
That's why I'm always laughing
I'm troubled, I'm brilliant and miserable too
That's why I am so funny
I swallow down all my fears
With a bottle made of silver
I've only been here for 27 years
But already my life is over
Chorus
And I need to unwind, yes and I
I need to unwind, yes, and I
Want all the time
To be loved, to unwind
Verse 2
My life is like a fairytale
That nobody believes in
I can't remember anything
Not the people, not the places I've been
Just one more day you can make it, babe
That's what I tell myself
And everything that I love in life
It is killing me, 'cause it's bad for my health
Chorus
Somebody comfort me
S... southern comfort me
Somebody comfort me
S... southern comfort me
Chorus
song performed by by Pink
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sympathy to a Friend
God hears our prayers,
Even when we can't
Find words to say them.
May it comfort your heart
To know that God sees your Sorrow,
And that He cares for you.
God knows every sorrow,
He dries every tear.
In your hour of sorrow,
Wishing you the strength of God's Love,
The shelter of his arms,
And the security of His peace.
In every shadowed valley,
God is with us, leading us to the light.
Praying that God will lead you,
Through this sad time
And give you His Mercy and Grace.
No one understands
The heart's cry for comfort like Jesus.
Praying that he love of Jesus
Will surround you
With the peace you are seeking
During this time of sorrow.
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Alas for Youth
Much have I labored, much read o'er
Of Arabic and Persian lore,
Collecting tales unknown and known;
Now two and sixty years are flown.
Regret, and deeper woe of sin,
'Tis all that youth has ended in,
And I with mournful thoughts rehearse
Bu Táhir Khusrawáni's verse:
'I mind me of my youth and sigh,
Alas for youth, for youth gone by!'
poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
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Twilight Alehouse
1971. released as b-side of I know what I like single, 1974.
Is it really true what theyre saying
Are you really sure theres nobody come for me
When Im walking home there is no-one
Once there was a house, full of laughter - so warm
Trying to pretend there is someone
Someone who will care when I need it
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down
When I walk outside, there is nowhere
Children follow me, with their laughter - so cold...
Casting just a glance at the churchyard
Casting just a glance, at my painted female friend.
Now Im on my way, I am falling
Got to find some elp, ooh I will need that now
So I will receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow
Just a drink to make me feel like a man again
Now Im down...
I will now receive my comfort, conjured by the magic power of wine
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling good
Just a drink, Ill get that drink, and Im feeling fine
Just a drink to take my sorrow
Just a drink and you can blast tomorrow, now...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloe Jealous
Forbear to ask Me, why I weep;
Vext Cloe to her Shepherd said:
'Tis for my Two poor stragling Sheep
Perhaps, or for my Squirrel dead.
For mind I what You late have writ?
Your subtle Questions, and Replies;
Emblems, to teach a Female Wit
The Ways, where changing Cupid flies.
Your Riddle, purpos'd to rehearse
The general Pow'r that Beauty has:
But why did no peculiar Verse
Describe one Charm of Cloe's Face?
The Glass, which was at Venus' Shrine,
With such Mysterious Sorrow laid:
The Garland (and You call it Mine)
Which show'd how Youth and Beauty fade.
Ten thousand Trifles light as These
Nor can my Rage, nor Anger move:
She shou'd be humble, who wou'd please:
And She must suffer, who can love.
When in My Glass I chanc'd to look;
Of Venus what did I implore?
That ev'ry Grace which thence I took,
Shou'd know to charm my Damon more.
Reading Thy Verse; who heeds, said I,
If here or there his Glances flew?
O free for ever be His Eye,
Whose Heart to Me is always true.
My Bloom indeed, my little Flow'r
Of Beauty quickly lost it's Pride:
For sever'd from it's Native Bow'r,
It on Thy glowing Bosom dy'd.
Yet car'd I not, what might presage
Or withering Wreath, or fleeting Youth:
Love I esteem'd more strong than Age,
And Time less permanent than Truth.
Why then I weep, forbear to know:
Fall uncontroll'd my Tears, and free:
O Damon, 'tis the only Woe,
I ever yet conceal'd from Thee.
The secret Wound with which I bleed
Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my Herse:
But on my Tomb-stone Thou shalt read
My Answer to Thy dubious Verse.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Deaf Martha
Poor Martha is old, and her hair is turn'd grey,
And her hearing has left her for many a year;
Ten to one if she knows what it is that you say,
Though she puts her poor wither'd hand close to her ear.
I've seen naughty children run after her fast,
And cry, "Martha, run, there's a bullock so bold;"
And when she was frighten'd, laugh at her at last,
Because she believed the sad stories they told.
I've seen others put their mouths close to her ear,
And make signs as if they had something to say;
And when she said, "Master, I'm deaf and can't hear,"
Point at her and mock her, and scamper away.
Ah! wicked the children poor Martha to tease,
As if she had not enough else to endure;
They rather should try her affliction to ease,
And soothe a disorder that nothing can cure.
One day, when those children themselves are grown old,
And one may be deaf, and another be lame,
Perhaps they may find that some children, as bold,
May tease them, and mock them, and serve them the same.
Then, when they reflect on the days of their youth,
A faithful account will their consciences keep,
And teach them, with shame and with sorrow, the truth,
That "what a man soweth, the same shall he reap."
poem by Ann Taylor
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The River of Life
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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River of Life, The
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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An Angry Poem, Because So Many Flags Are At Half Staff
The wreaths are piling up on the curb. Coffins line streets swept and stainless. Some one asks why, there are murmurs in the crowd. I am beyond curiosity, tired of the story that begins with Blood and ends in Glory. Glory, worshiped in the streets, feared in our hearts. Glory, bought with sin, greed and the end of innocence. Glory, balm for the living because the dead do not need soothing. Glory, an epithet hammered into gravestones. Glory in death -wrap that lie in a flag and praise it to heaven. We are false prophets and our blessing has cursed the dead with the Blood sacrifice.
Blood is paid for with youth, salvation, faith -everything, all they have and ever will. Blood is given (taken) in our name and we can only offer up sorrow, prayers, songs, statues. Blood should bring guilt, shame, truth, but we deny, deny, deny, and deny the abomination we have become. 2,000 suicides,3,000 dead,130,000 killed,6 million murdered,60 million casualties... the numbers do not lie. And we will go on counting the dead while rain polishes their headstones smooth.
So do not ask me why so many flags are at half staff. I will not give you the answer you want to hear. I will not mock the dead with vainglorious praise, Glory Glory Hallelujah! They are the mothers, fathers, sons and daughters who paid the price of Blood and I will honor them with the truth.
poem by Ronald Shields
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Villanelle of Change
Since Persia fell at Marathon,
The yellow years have gathered fast:
Long centuries have come and gone.
And yet (they say) the place will don
A phantom fury of the past,
Since Persia fell at Marathon;
And as of old, when Helicon
Trembled and swayed with rapture vast
(Long centuries have come and gone),
This ancient plain, when night comes on,
Shakes to a ghostly battle-blast,
Since Persia fell at Marathon.
But into soundless Acheron
The glory of Greek shame was cast:
Long centuries have come and gone,
The suns of Hellas have all shone,
The first has fallen to the last: --
Since Persia fell at Marathon,
Long centuries have come and gone.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Sorrow and joy
Being in poverty is sorrow.
Leaving comfort is sorrow.
Wish withheld is sorrow.
Fear upheld is sorrow.
Contact with unpleasantness is sorrow.
Separation from pleasantness is sorrow.
If there is no shadow
There will be no ray.
Both compliments each other..
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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White Heat, Red Hot
The fathers son, thy kingdom come, electric ecstasy,
Deliver us from all the fuss and give us sanctuary.
Lead us all into arena, magnificent in death.
Well let us serenade the sinner, well follow in his step.
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The fury songs, venomous wrongs so rich in tragedy,
An overture forever more to senseless victories.
Give to us this day of glory the power and the kill
So we avoid the wrath and all the almighty fire of
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The heats hot burns a lot.
Who are not cut out to fight this day will surely fall.
The few who stand to take command forever and ever are men.
Prepare to fight, unsheathe your scythe a ghastly beam of ill
To slice the life with blinding light and seventh dimensional skill.
The centuries of dedication inherited till at last
From years of solar gladiation can only end in
White heat, red hot burns deep, white heat red hot.
The heats hot burns a lot.
Who are not cut out to fight this day will surely fall.
The few who stand to take command forever and ever are men.
White heat
Red hot
White heat
Red hot
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comfort ye, my people speak ye peace, thus saith our God. Comfort those who sit in darkness, mourning 'neath their sorrow's load. For the glory of the Lord now o'er earth is shed abroad and all flesh shall see the token that His word is never broken.
in Bible, Isaiah 401-8 Bible
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have I Told You Lately That I Love You
Verse 1:
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you there's no one else above you
You fill my heart with gladness
Take away all my sadness
Ease my trouble, that's what you do
Verse 2:
For the morning sun and all it's glory
Greets the day with hope and comfort too
You fill my life with laughter
Somehow make it batter
Ease my trouble that's what you do
Chorus :
There's a love defined
And it's yours and it's mine
Like the sun
That the end of the day
We should give thanks and pray
To the one, to the one
(Verse 1)
(Chorus)
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Always
There's magic when we hold hands
When you slip your fingers into mine
The memory always lingers
Magic always does happen
Within the feel of your palm
There's magic when we stare at each other
With no words spoken at all
The fire always burns
Magic always does happen
When I'm lost, staring at you
There's magic whenever we kiss
When your lips feather mine
I thirst for more of you
Magic always does happen
As my throat constricts
There's magic when we make love
On cloud nine to the skies above
I yearn for more of you
Magic always does happen
When you send shivers through me
I'm your tricky wand
And you're my magician
Please wield magic with me always
poem by Emmanuel Emesakoru
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Is It Well?
Saw you the youth, with the face like the morning,
Refilling the glass, that foamed white as the sea?
Heard you the words that fell down like a warning,
'Lift not the glass: it holds sorrow for thee'?
He heeds not nor listens:
The red liquor glistens,
And he sees not the fangs of the serpent beneath.
And the fiends are elated,
And the voice waileth 'Fated,'
As he drains out the glass: the dumb agent of death.
High had he set his mark. Fame, wealth, and glory,
All should be his ere the noon-tide of life.
A name that should live in the annals of story,
His was a heart that could battle with strife.
'Here's to youthful endeavor!'
He cries. 'Ah! for ever
Shall the ruddy glass cheer me on life's rugged way.
There is strength for all trouble
In each airy bubble.
Who dares prate of danger and sorrow, I pray?'
Where is the youth with the face like the morning?
Where are the hopes that glowed bright as the noon!
He who had heard and obeyed not the warning,
Oh! has he reaped the dire harvest so soon?
He quaffed, all unheeding
The small voice's pleading,
And he lieth to-night in a dark prison cell.
This is his glory,
The name carved in story.
This has the red glass done. Say, is it well?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
24.04.2006
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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