L'Idéal (The Ideal)
Ce ne seront jamais ces beautés de vignettes,
Produits avariés, nés d'un siècle vaurien,
Ces pieds à brodequins, ces doigts à castagnettes,
Qui sauront satisfaire un coeur comme le mien.
Je laisse à Gavarni, poète des chloroses,
Son troupeau gazouillant de beautés d'hôpital,
Car je ne puis trouver parmi ces pâles roses
Une fleur qui ressemble à mon rouge idéal.
Ce qu'il faut à ce coeur profond comme un abîme,
C'est vous, Lady Macbeth, âme puissante au crime,
Rêve d'Eschyle éclos au climat des autans;
Ou bien toi, grande Nuit, fille de Michel-Ange,
Qui tors paisiblement dans une pose étrange
Tes appas façonnés aux bouches des Titans!
The Ideal
It will never be the beauties that vignettes show, Those damaged products of a good-for-nothing age,
Their feet shod with high shoes, hands holding castanets,
Who can ever satisfy any heart like mine.
I leave to Gavarni, poet of chlorosis,
His prattling troop of consumptive beauties,
For I cannot find among those pale roses
A flower that is like my red ideal.
The real need of my heart, profound as an abyss,
Is you, Lady Macbeth, soul so potent in crime,
The dream of Aeschylus, born in the land of storms;
Or you, great Night, daughter of Michelangelo,
Who calmly contort, reclining in a strange pose
Your charms molded by the mouths of Titans!
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Ideal
It's not with smirking beauties of vignettes,
The shopsoiled products of a worthless age,
With buskined feet and hands for castanets —
A heart like mine its longing could assuage.
I leave Gavarni, poet of chloroses,
His twittering flock, anaemic and unreal.
I could not find among such bloodless roses,
A flower to match my crimson-hued ideal.
To this heart deeper than the deepest canyon,
Lady Macbeth would be a fit companion,
Crime-puissant dream of Aeschylus; or you,
Daughter of Buonarroti, stately Night!
Whose charms to suit a Titan's appetite,
You twist, so strange, yet peaceful, to the view.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Ideal
No beauties such as figure in vignettes,
Monsters of a vain era's lame design,
With feet for buskins, hands for castanets,
Can ever satisfy a heart like mine.
I leave to Gavarni's chlorotic Muse
These sickly prattling nymphs, however real;
Not one of these pale roses would I choose
To match the flowers of my red ideal.
What my heart, deep as an abyss, demands,
Lady Macbeth, is your brave bloody hands,
And, Aeschylus, your dreams of rage and fright,
Or you, vast Night, daughter of Angelo's,
Who peacefully twist into a strange pose
Charms fashioned for a Titan's mouth to bite.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
L'Idéal
'twill be no lovely girls of our vignettes
— spoiled fruits our worthless epoch deems divine —
slim slippered feet, hands made for castagnettes,
that shall content this questing heart of mine.
I leave to great Gavarni, bard of blight,
his prattling beauties with their frail appeal.
I cannot find among his roses white
the flaming flower of my red ideal.
I crave, to fill my heart's abyss of death,
thy passion, fair and merciless Macbeth,
whom Aeschylus might not have dreamed in boreal snows;
or thine, great Night, in Bunarroti's South,
tranquilly turning in a monstrous pose
thy bosom fashioned by a Titan's mouth!
— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The greatness of human actions is measured by the inspiration that it brings. Blessed is he who carries within himself a God, an ideal of beauty and obeys it: an ideal of art, ideal of science, ideal of country, ideal virtues of the Gospel! These are the wellsprings of great thoughts and great actions. All reflections illuminate infinity.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Ideal World
I Dare to Dream
Of an ideal world
Of you and I carefree
Pure of heart and soul
Where there is honesty
Honour and respect
I dare to dream
Of all dreams fulfilled
In an ideal world
Without hatred and jealousy
Surrounded by love and positivity
I dare to dream
Of beautiful things
With sparkling eyes
And beautiful smiles
Without disease
I dare to dream
Of an ideal world
Of equality of race and gender
Without shackles of fear and discrimination
I dare to dream
Of an ideal world
Without crime and poverty
Where there is abundant wealth for all to share
Of love, happiness and success for all
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whatever
ideal feat. r.l.: whatever
(r.l.:)
Yeah, ideal
Y2 kay gee and r.l. collabo
Uh-oh make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
Uh yeah ideal come on
Make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
Let's go
1:
(ideal:)
Whatever you
Wanna do, uh-huh
Whether it's at
The crib or club
It's all up to you, what?
What?
Whatever you wanna do
So you wanna
Groove, uh-huh
Show me how
You move, uh-huh
What'cha gonna do?
What? what?
'cause i wanna
Rock with you
Whatever you wanna do
(ideal:)
Tonight you're with me
I'm talking vip
Cristal, moet
Don p tonight, oh
Nice suite at
The double tree
You and me in
Between the sheets
It's whatever you
Like baby, tell me
2:
(lil' mo:)
I like when you
Move up close to me
Sexy grinding holding me
Real close cause you're
Supposed to be, baby
(ideal:)
I like it when you
Put that thing on me
Pushin' it up against the jeans
Makin' it harder
In between, baby
Repeat 1
Tonight i just got paid
Let's hop in the escalade
Go out on an escapade
Tonight, all right
What sip you choose?
I'll grab your hips and move
And do whatever you like
Tell me, tell me
Repeat 2
Repeat 1
(ideal:)
You can choose
The place we go
Or stay home
With the stereo
You choose the scenario
Tonight your situation
Here's your invitation
Come with me
Whatever you wanna do
(r.l.:)
Make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
Uh yeah ideal come on
Make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
Uh yeah uh-oh
Make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
Uh yeah ideal come on
Make 'em, make 'em
Make 'em dance to this
(come and go with me oh)
Repeat 1
(ideal and lil' mo:)
Come on show me
How you move
Baby let me
See you groove
We can do
What you want to
Tonight
You can move
Across to me
(lil' mo:)
You can say
Come on mami
(ideal:)
You can say
Come on papi
(both:)
Tonight, whatever
You wanna do
Repeat 1 to fade
song performed by by Ideal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Macbeth: Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.
line from Macbeth, Act I, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1606)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Answer to Lost Roses
A lady received a
bouquet of roses,
It was a windy day.
A gust of wind caught
the roses,
Blew them all away.
They were tied with
yellow ribbons,
But they could not hold,
The story of lost roses,
Somehow it must be told.
Your dream ended too
quickly,
How was you to know,
The lady receieved the
roses,
They were covered with
layers of snow.
They found a place in
her heart,
It was hard to let them
go.
But she had to release
them,
To the wind, they had
to go.
To help dry up their tears,
They had to find their
way,
So they could be happy,
Laugh again some day.
Who was the sender with
a heart sublime,
The lady still awaits,
A bouquet of roses devine.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obsession
We sit in your room
So dark and strange
With yellow candles
Burning straight
Outside it rains
So silver and bright
A glaring light
Crashed into the sky
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
We stayed awake at night
With vision so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
Its got a hold on me
Its got a hold on me
Smiles and voices suddenly changed
Eyes and shadows on a distance too short
Is there someone who I know ?
Is there someone at all ?
Is there someone who I know ?
Is there someone I called ?
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
We stayed awake at night
With vision so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
So when the rain comes running in your eyes
And the wind shakes the forest leaves
We stayed awake at night
With visions so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
Its got a hold on me
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bare Truth
I am in the present perfect
Where I have always been,
Finally reaching
Something of my own
Which makes tomorrow
A day worth following...
As I rise with the orange glow
Of an enterprising ideal
That is too ardent
And possessive to let go...
I may be unknown and alone,
But the real one is ready
Apart from here
And has become part of the world
I am striving for...
Separating the many
Halves of me
And sorting them
Into the infinite good or bad
I am most likely to succeed...
The Cause is the ideal,
The ideal is the principle
And the tempter's key
Which unlocks or fastens
The door of immortality...
poem by Romeo Della Valle (2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lily Of The Valley
SWEETEST of the flowers a-blooming
In the fragrant vernal days
Is the Lily of the Valley
With its soft, retiring ways.
Well, you chose this humble blossom
As the nurse's emblem flower,
Who grows more like her ideal
Every day and every hour.
Like the Lily of the Valley
In her honesty and worth,
Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue
In the quiet nooks of earth.
Tho' she stands erect in honor
When the heart of mankind bleeds,
Still she hides her own deserving
In the beauty of her deeds.
In the silence of the darkness
Where no eye may see and know,
There her footsteps shod with mercy,
And fleet kindness come and go.
Not amid the sounds of plaudits,
Nor before the garish day,
Does she shed her soul's sweet perfume,
Does she take her gentle way.
But alike her ideal flower,
With its honey-laden breath,
Still her heart blooms forth its beauty
In the valley shades of death.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Supreme serenity still remains the Ideal of great Art. The shapes and transitory forms of life are but stages toward this Ideal, which Christ's religion illuminates with His divine light.
quote by Franz Liszt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To serve the people, one must write for the ideal reader. Only for the ideal reader. And who or what is that ideal reader? God. One must imagine, One must deeply imagine that great Attention. Only so, in lonely dialog, can one reach the people.
quote by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Ideal Man
A man of 360 degrees personality.
A man of many colours.
A man of many souls,
Suited for every single season,
Tailored for a fair number of tasks.
He is my ideal man.
It is not his outward beauty,
But his devastating internal brilliance.
A man of amazing aspiration,
Who issues incredible inspiration.
You are my ideal man.
A man like a magnet,
Drawing into his fold and bosom,
All panaches of people,
‘Cos he commands remarkable respect,
And radiates astonishing admiration.
That is my ideal man.
A man like Solomon,
Displaying incomparable intelligence,
Demonstrating wondrous wisdom,
Deadly dependable for solutions,
A consistent counselor,
And a handy one-stop resource center.
You are my ideal man.
A man of the people,
Sympathetic and exceptionally empathetic, ,
Firm but flagrantly fair,
Identifying persistently with the people,
Fighting with and for the people,
Sharing joy and pain with the people.
You are my ideal man.
My ideal man,
Lastly but foremost,
A paragon of a God-fearing person.
With biblical statutes his only standards.
A man honourable but humble,
A man of humility and humor,
A man of love, peace and truth,
A man of Godly justice,
Not fearing whose ox is jabbed.
He is my ideal man
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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Que diras-tu ce soir, pauvre âme solitaire (What Will You Say Tonight, Poor Solitary Soul)
Que diras-tu ce soir, pauvre âme solitaire,
Que diras-tu, mon coeur, coeur autrefois flétri,
À la très belle, à la très bonne, à la très chère,
Dont le regard divin t'a soudain refleuri?
— Nous mettrons notre orgueil à chanter ses louanges:
Rien ne vaut la douceur de son autorité
Sa chair spirituelle a le parfum des Anges
Et son oeil nous revêt d'un habit de clarté.
Que ce soit dans la nuit et dans la solitude
Que ce soit dans la rue et dans la multitude
Son fantôme dans l'air danse comme un flambeau.
Parfois il parle et dit: «Je suis belle, et j'ordonne
Que pour l'amour de moi vous n'aimiez que le Beau;
Je suis l'Ange gardien, la Muse et la Madone.»
What Will You Say Tonight, Poor Solitary Soul
What will you say tonight, poor solitary soul,
What will you say, my heart, heart once so withered,
To the kindest, dearest, the fairest of women,
Whose divine glance suddenly revived you?
— We shall try our pride in singing her praises:
There is nothing sweeter than to do her bidding;
Her spiritual flesh has the fragrance of Angels,
And when she looks upon us we are clothed with light.
Be it in the darkness of night, in solitude,
Or in the city street among the multitude,
Her image in the air dances like a torch flame.
Sometimes it speaks and says: 'I am fair, I command
That for your love of me you love only Beauty;
I am your guardian Angel, your Muse and Madonna.'
— Translated by William Aggeler
What Can You Say, Poor Lonely Soul of Mine
What can you say, poor lonely soul of mine,
Or you, poor heart, so long ago turned sour,
To the best, dearest, loveliest, whose divine
Regard has made you open like a flower?
We'll set our pride to sing her highest praise
Naught to her sweet authority compares:
Her psychic flesh is formed of fragrant airs.
Her glances clothe us in a suit of rays.
Be it in solitude at dead of night,
Or in the crowded streets of glaring light,
Her phantom like a torch before me streams.
It speaks: 'I'm beautiful. These orders take.
Love naught but Beauty, always, for my sake,
Madonna, guardian Angel, Muse of dreams.'
— Translated by Roy Campbell
What Shall You Say Tonight?
What shall you say tonight, poor soul so full of care,
What shall you say, my heart, heart hitherto so sad,
To the most kind, to the most dear, to the most fair,
Whose pure serene regard has made you proud and glad?
— We shall set all our pride to sing her holy praise!
What sweetness to be hers! To live beneath her sight!
Half spirit is her flesh, angelic all her ways;
Her glance alone invests us in a robe of light!
Whether in solitude and deep obscurity,
Whether by day among the moving crowd it be,
Her phantom like a torch in air will dance and run;
It speaks: 'Beauty is mine; Authority is mine;
Love only, for my sake, the noble and the fine:
I am thine Angel, Muse, Madonna, all in one.'
— Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The human soul has still greater need of the ideal than of the real. It is by the real that we exist; it is by the ideal that we live.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Almost Ideal Eyes
Here she comes with her almost ideal eyes
And her flawless skin and her petulant pout
The memory of such a long blond alibi
Still makes me want to shout out loud
You ************ when you clear your head my dear
You cant come out here in those stolen clothes
Telling me all about some mystery
I hope she isnt one, I hope she isnt one of those
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find liberal is an insult now and care is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal
Love is smiles, he will hypnotize you wild
He tries to analyze your dreams
Fill you up with all his big ideas while he really wants to make you
Scream out loud at the phony innocence
And pained pretence and the dismal rage.
The vacant lot that thankfully time forgot
Where you never have to act, you never have to act your age
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find stupid is a compliment and thrill is what you play for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
In the spirit(? ) all your friends look uglier
And you find youre wearing an evening gown
Weeping over some tiny broken bird
While the sky is decorated
Shocking pink and a dirty shade of brown
And you think you need to be tranquilized
A feat that may fit to your new career
Whatever you invent youll never be content with
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
Rebellion is just currency, the moon is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre looking for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
Here she comes, here she comes now.....
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Macbeth: Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time.
line from Macbeth, Act I, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1606)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Semper Eadem (Ever The Same)
«D'où vous vient, disiez-vous, cette tristesse étrange,
Montant comme la mer sur le roc noir et nu?»
— Quand notre coeur a fait une fois sa vendange
Vivre est un mal. C'est un secret de tous connu,
Une douleur très simple et non mystérieuse
Et, comme votre joie, éclatante pour tous.
Cessez donc de chercher, ô belle curieuse!
Et, bien que votre voix soit douce, taisez-vous!
Taisez-vous, ignorante! âme toujours ravie!
Bouche au rire enfantin! Plus encor que la Vie,
La Mort nous tient souvent par des liens subtils.
Laissez, laissez mon coeur s'enivrer d'un mensonge,
Plonger dans vos beaux yeux comme dans un beau songe
Et sommeiller longtemps à l'ombre de vos cils!
Ever the Same
-'Whence comes to you, you asked, this singular sadness
That rises like the sea on the naked, black rock?'
— Once our heart has gathered the grapes from its vineyard,
Living is an evil. That's a secret known to all,
A simple pain, with no mystery,
As obvious to all men as your gaiety.
So abandon your search, inquisitive beauty;
And though your voice is sweet, be still!
Be silent, ignorant! ever enraptured soul!
Mouth with the child-like laugh! Still more than Life,
Death holds us frequently with subtle bonds.
Let, let my heart become drunk with a lie; let it
Plunge into your fair eyes as into a fair dream
And slumber long in the shadow of your lashes.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Semper Eadem
'Whence,' ask you, 'does this strange new sadness flow
Like rising tides on rocks, black, bare, and vast?'
For human hearts, when vintage-time is past,
To live is bad. That secret all men know —
An obvious sorrow, with no mystery, shown,
Clear as your joy, to everyone around.
O curious one, seek nothing more profound,
And speak not, though your voice be sweet in tone.
Hush, ignorant! Hush, soul that's still enraptured,
And mouth of childish laughter! Neatly captured,
Death pulls us, more than life, with subtle wile.
Oh let my thought get drunk upon a lie,
And plunge, as in a dream, in either eye,
And in their lashes' shadow sleep awhile!
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Semper Eadem
'What in the world,' you said, 'has brought on this black mood,
Climbing you as the sea climbs up a naked reef?'
— When once the heart has made its harvest (understood
By all men, this) why, just to be alive is grief:
A pain quite simple, nothing mysterious at all,
And like that joy of yours, patent to all we meet;
Stop asking questions, then, I beg of you, and fall
Silent a while, fair prober, though your voice be sweet.
Ah, yes, be silent, ignorant girl, always so gay,
Mouth with the childlike laughter! More than Life, I say,
Death has the power to hold us by most subtle ties.
My one fictitious comfort, kindly, let me keep:
To plunge as into dreams into your lovely eyes,
And in the shadow of your lashes fall asleep.
— Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Semper eadam
you asked: 'what floods of gloom engulf you — strange
as creeping tides against a bare black wall?'
— when hearts once crush their grapes and close the grange,
life is an evil. secret known to all,
'tis but the common grief each man betrays
to all, as you your joy, in eyes or brow
so veil, my fair one, your inquiring gaze
and though your voice is low, be silent now!
be silent, simple soul! mouth always gay
with girlish laughter! more than Life, today,
Death binds our hearts with tenuous webs of doom;
let mine be drunken with the wine of lies,
o let me delve for dreams in those deep eyes
and slumber long beneath your eyebrows' gloom!
— Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drivin Wheel
(t-bone burnett/billy swan)
Well, all I want is a love thats hot
Cant be sold, cant be bought
Yeah, love that dont try to be somethin its not
Well, all I need is a love thats real
None can rob and none can steal
Hey, love that moves like a drivin wheel
Well, all I want is drivin wheel
All I want is a drivin wheel
All round love my ideal
Well, all I want is love thats right
To hold onto with all my might
Hey, early in the mornin and late at night
Well, all I want is drivin wheel
All I want is a drivin wheel
Hey, all round love my ideal
All I want is a drivin wheel
All I want is a drivin wheel
Hey, all round love my ideal
All I want is a drivin wheel
All I want is a drivin wheel
Well, all round love my ideal
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sun And Steel
You killed your first man at 13
Killer instinct, Animal supreme
By 16 you had learned to fight
The way of the warrior, you took it as your right
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Through earth and water, fire and wind
You came at last - nothing was the end
Make a cut by fire and stone
Take you and your blade and break you both in two
Break you both in two
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel - rolling on and on
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel - and it's rolling still
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We lift ourselves by our thought, we climb upon our vision of ourselves. If you want to enlarge your life, you must first enlarge your thought of it and of yourself. Hold the ideal of yourself as you long to be, always, everywhere - your ideal of what you long to attain - the ideal of health, efficiency, success.
quote by Orison Swett Marden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I shout: Ideal, Ideal, Ideal; Knowledge, Knowledge, Knowledge; Boomboom, Boomboom, Boomboom; I have recorded fairly accurately Progress, Law, Morals, and all the other magnificent qualities that various very intelligent people have discussed in so many books.
Tristan Tzara in The Dada Almanac (1920)
Submitted by Simona Enache
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