En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sydney Nocturnes

From The North Shore.
TO Day she would not show her charms;
But now the Night beseeches,
A white reproach of wistful arms
Over the bay she reaches.
Upon her gleaming bosom, wet
With tears and quivering,
In ropes of golden beauty set
Her vivid jewels swing.
Upon the pathway of the night
She, pausing often, paces;
About her body waves gleam white
Like froth of filmy laces;
And to her pleasure hurrying,
Their torches holding high,
On molten waters smouldering
The ferry-boats flame by.

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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A Mountshannon October Morning

The stranger sat upon the park bench,
and looked across the Lough.
Smoke from his pipe
blended with the cool morning breeze.
The distant mountains patchwork of green
sat under the hand of dawn’s rolling mist.
The white capped dark waters rolled endlessly against the shore,
nudging the sheltering boats against their moorings,
and washed over shoreline rocks
speckled with lichen and moss.
A pair of swans with their signets sheltered
in the calmer waters of the harbour
away from the white capped waves.
The sun edged its way into the sky,
from behind the sleeping mountains,
spreading red and oranged fingers
to touch the retreating night clouds.
The village adopted ginger cat
made his morning patrol
along the harbour’s sleeping boats,
in a search for breakfast.
The autumn coloured tree leaves,
fluttered in the morning breeze
as the wind and waves rolling
over the shore bound rocks disturbing
the dawning silence.

poem by David Harris
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Sky Star' (On A Peaceful Night)

Sky Star…., so far….., on a peaceful night….,
Blinking…, twinkling…, with a wondrous light…,
Sky Star…., so far…., sparkling so bright….,
Shimmering…, quivering…, on a peaceful night.

Celestial flame…. Glowing with delight….,
Gleaming, flashing, glimmering white….,
Radiant spirit…., such a beautiful sight…,
Sky Star…., so far….., on a peaceful night.

poem by Trade Martin
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How white and level the plain

How white and level the plain
That stretches to the sea-ridge
The sea-ridge beyond which
The sea roars in and out
And laps against the giant rocks
This night.

I startle - the moon’s light
Which I thought feeble --
Clearly the plain before me lights
And the dark bosom of the sea
Entering and going silver shines
When the moon-rays with the dark waves commix
This night.
No sound save for my steps and the sea’s waves
And here and there a few cool gusts of wind.
No-body save for me - the rest so silent is:
The temples high above in black silhouette
Rise like pointed turrets to the sky
In silent draped and in dress funereal
I walk, I think, I look at the seas,
Tears come to my eyes and fall and fall
This night.

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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O Beauty of Night...

As the golden sun goes to rest,
And the sky drape into black blanket,
Now take your turn
O beauty of Night – Moon.

Variety of moods makes me wonder,
Sometimes you look like circular disc,
At times spongy ball of cotton
O beauty of Night – Moon.

Eyes long to catch the glimpse,
Hands reach to hold you,
Lips hum song for you,
O beauty of Night – Moon.

Play not hide & seek,
Cover not behind the dark cloud
Unveil your beauty for me to gaze
O beauty of Night – Moon.

Cool gentle breeze blowing in silent night
Urge my heart to
Bathe in the white beam
O beauty of Night - Moon.

Reflection of my love I see in you
Fall down from the starry sky
To hold you in my arms
O beauty of Night – Moon.

poem by Geeta Nair
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At Carbis Bay

Out of the night of the sea,
Out of the turbulent night,
A sharp and hurrying wind
Scourges the waters white:
The terror by night.

Out of the doubtful dark,
Out of the night of the land,
What is it breathes and broods,
Hoveringly at hand?
The menace of land.

Out of the night of heaven,
Out of the delicate sky,
Pale and serene the stars
In their silence reply:
The peace of the sky.

poem by Arthur Symons
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White Hot Day

Instrumental version called bass line
In time, only time, speak for time, in time
Time calls, time cries, sweet friend of mine
Time could be a place, a spirit and a face
Teardrops through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation speaks in time
The beauty of it is, to waken up to
Shake the hand of time
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the years, hold back the years
Time calls, time cries, sounds like a friend of mine
Time will run to meet, the slick and shiny beat
That creeps to me through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation sleeps in time
The beauty of it is
Well wake up to, shake the hand of time
In time, only time, in time, only time
In time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
Time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Words & music : james kerr, charlie burchill, mel gaynor, derek forbes, michael macneil (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lovers Of Marchaid

Dominic came riding down, sworded, straight and splendid,
Drave his hilt against her door, flung a golden chain.
Said: 'I'll teach your lips a song sweet as his that's ended,
Ere the white rose call the bee, the almond flower again.'

But he only saw her head bent within the gloom
Over heaps of bridal thread bright as apple-bloom,
Silver silk like rain that spread across the driving loom.

Dreaming Fanch, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces,
Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow;
'They shall lead her wildrose feet all the fairy paces
Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go' -

But he only saw her eyes turning from his gift
Out towards the silver skies where the white clouds drift,
Where the wild gerfalcon flies, where the last sails lift.

Bran has built his homestead high where the hills may shield her,
Where the young bird waits the spring, where the dawns are fair,
Said: 'I'll name my trees for her, since I may not yield her
Stars of morning for her feet, of evening for her hair.'

But he did not see them ride, seven dim sail and more,
All along the harbor-side, white from shore to shore,
Nor heard the voices of the tide crying at her door.

Jean-Marie has touched his pipe down beside the river
When the young fox bends the fern, when the folds are still,
Said: 'I send her all the gifts that my love may give her, -
Golden notes like golden birds to seek her at my will.'

But he only found the waves, heard the sea-gull's cry,
In and out the ocean caves, underneath the sky,
All above the wind-washed graves where dead seamen lie.

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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I Tried To Open The Wide Book Of Night

I tried to open wide the book of night
To look into its eyes - like a lover
That pretended of his love confession as of right
And so to Hastings Gardens went I in the night.
Wide, wide before the long night stood
No corner stopped my glance no space
Its boundary showed and manifested
To my glance long tall continous lay the night
In its mischievous slumbering
Wherein it dreamt dreams I know not
Nor thereof heard the silent trees bespeak.
How many nights before me came
How many, many nights
And they were certes here like this night
As I look from the bastions to the sea
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light to-night:
So gleamed the light on the sea-waves
When the French besieged and held
Our noble city: how many a lover
Stood looking on the sea and at his love
As mid-night in his satined robes tiptoed:
Rippling stood the waves and waters wild
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light:
For years and years the welcome Briton stood
Perhaps here where stay I and his foot
Could be heard pace all sentinel
Into the dark glooms of silent night
From casements near opening on the seas
And houses nearby in dreaming bent
Through the long night, the long and weary night
That was of many nights that were
And will be of many nights that will
And when I stay not on the bastions and
Feel not the sea-breeze my face cool
Night after night will come and children small
Few years born will come and go:
And after children small will come again
Night after night will come and speak
Unto the rocks that front the sea
And playing with lapping sea-waves all the night
Unheard, unseen, unnoticed in the times
And in the flight of years and centuries full lost
And when night comes and still the sea
Will shine – its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light.

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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65

My hands holding some shadows

On white laces and flowing
Whiteness of dress
You walk towards a breezy
Shore on some dreams
Your black long hair flowing
Blown against your direction
Your soft hands touch your face
In disbelief
Why this sadness must come and
Happen and linger
In your almond eyes

Sadness like the night
Hovers you except for a surprise
You hum our song
From your heart
And though faraway I will always
Be there
My hands holding some shadows
To comfort you

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Four Colors

I once met a girl named blue
full of color and vivid light
her beauty captured by fluffs of white

Then along came gray
Her angers screams thunder and her wrath falls to earth as a blinding flash
her beauty is both angry and sad

Before I knew it, red and orange had showed up
dressed in sunset, their crimson kiss delivered love
Their beauty, a poem written as rays of light

The last to show up was black
freckled with white, behold her romantic absence of light
her beauty forever cloaked by the uncharted waters of love

Here lies my sky
four colors that have changed my life
their beauty is ever flowing, along with the sands of time

poem by Carlos Patino
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Out of the waves of time [Din valurile vremii]

Out of the waves of time, come up, my love, and shine
With your white marble arms, with your hair, long and fine –
With your translucent face, which is like wax – soft, white,
Which suffers in the shade and cannot sleep at night!
You gently touch my eyes with your attractive smile,
You are a shining star, no woman has your style
And when you turn your head and watch your shoulder's skin
I look into your eyes and see the bliss within.
How can I take you out of this dark haze, my love,
To hold you to my chest, dear angel from above,
To lay my teary cheek on your exquisite face,
To choke you with my kiss and with my hot embrace,
To warm your chilly hand with the volcanic flame
Of my ecstatic heart that flutters at your name?

Alas! You're not alive, you don't seem to exist
Your shadow disappears into the cold, wet mist
And here I am again, so gloomy and so sad
Reluctantly recalling the nice dream that I had...
In vain I seek your face, in vain I want your charms
The waves of time roll by, you won't be in my arms.

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian CocoÅŸ
Submitted by anonym
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Noli Me Tangere

We watched the dawn breaking across the sea
While just above us hung the evening star.
The nearer waters took a hint of white
And clouds and waves together massed afar,
Narrowed our morning world of pallid light
Till dawn seemed very close to you and me.
'Nay, dawn, stay farther off. Be Magdalen.
Go back into the distance whence you came.
The Near is meaningless when Far is nought,'
So I; and you. 'Wait but a little then,
And day, whole day, uprising like a flame,
Will show us the far reaches of our thought.'

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow

Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.

Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.

How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Paper Boats

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Design

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.

poem by Robert Frost
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The Fishing Village From Across The Bay

The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.

Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.

Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.

A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.

The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.

Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.

poem by Kevin Parkin
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Down on the Shore

Down on the shore, on the sunny shore!
Where the salt smell cheers the land;
Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,
And the surge on the glittering strand;
Where the children wade in the shallow pools,
Or run from the froth in play;
Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings
Are crossing the sapphire bay,
And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale,
Holds proudy on her way;
Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,
And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,
Under the tent of the warm blue sky,
With the hushing wave on its golden floor
To sing their lullaby.

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!
Beset by a growling sea,
Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep
Like wolves up a traveller's tree;
Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blast
Blows the curlew off, with a screech;
Where the brown sea-wrack, torn up by the roots,
Is flung out of fishes' reach;
And the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals,
And scatters her planks on the beach;
Where slate and straw through the village spin,
And a cottage fronts the fiercest din
With a sailor's wife sitting sad within,
Hearkening the wind and the water's roar,
Till at last her tears begin.

poem by William Allingham
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The Ocean

1969 live version
--------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the shore
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Earth is a hollow hair bought of a bigger head
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things down
...(unknown)
But here comes the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land
That has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the shore
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the sea
(incense or in sex or insects) for evil thoughts, thought of by selfish men
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things done
...(unknown)
Here comes the waves down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land that has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Peel slowly and see version
---------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Where have they been?
Silver and black with night
Heres to a summers night
An empty splendid castle
Glowering alone at night
The princess has had a fright
Madness seeks out the lover
And here come the waves down by the shore
Washing the soul of the body
That comes from the depths of the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves, where have they been
Dont swim tonight my love
The tide is out my love
Malcoms curse haunts our family
Oh yes, loud in which, ruler of filthy seas, revelling heavans justice
And here come the waves
And save for a scream
Theres much like a song
To be heard, in the wind, that blows by the sea.
Like the wind
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves

song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invocation II

COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.

Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Fishing boats

In the late afternoon
fishing boats come out of the waves
and like ministers
tiller men stand behind white pulpits.

Boats jump
over the last waves to the quay
and are drawn with cables
onto trailers,

before pickups and cars
drive into the parking lot
pulling motorboats.

There are red roman, snook
and cod
and fresh fish are everywhere in the boats.

poem by Gert Strydom
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