Thoughts On An Ancient Site:Birthplace Of Wang Qiang
Through flocks of mountains, myriad valleys,
I arrive in Jingmen,
where Ming-fei was born and bred--
the village is still there.
Once she left the crimson terraces,
there was nothing but endless desert;
only her evergreen grave is left
to face the twilight.
Portraits have recorded
her spring-fresh face;
the tinkle of girdle pendants heralds
her soul's vain return by moonlight.
For a thousand years the pipa
has wailed in its alien tongue,
as if its strings bemoan in song
her tragic tale of grief.
Related quotes
Praise Of Ysolt
In vain have I striven,
to teach my heart to bow;
In vain have I said to him
'There be many singers greater than thou'.
But his answer cometh, as winds and as lutany,
As a vague crying upon the night
That leaveth me no rest, saying ever,
'Song, a song.'
Their echoes play upon each other in the twilight
Seeking ever a song.
Lo, I am worn with travail
And the wandering of many roads hath made my eyes
As dark red circles filled with dust.
Yet there is a trembling upon me in the twilight,
And little red elf words crying, ‘A song',
Little grey elf words crying for a song,
Little brown leaf words crying, ‘A song',
Little green leaf words crying for a song.
The words are as leaves, old brown leaves in the spring time
Blowing they know not whither, seeking a song.
White words as snow flakes but they are cold,
Moss words, lip words, words of slow streams.
In vain have I striven
to teach my soul to bow,
In vain have I pled with him:
'There be greater souls than thou.'
For in the morn of my years there came a woman
As moonlight calling,
As the moon calleth the tides,
'Song, a song.'
Wherefore I made her a song and she went from me
As the moon doth from the sea,
But still came the leaf words, little brown elf words
Stying 'The soul sendeth us'.
'A song, a song!'
And in vain I cried unto them ‘I have no song
For she I sang of hath gone from me'.
But my soul sent a woman, a woman of the wonder-folk,
A woman as fire upon the pine woods
crying 'Song, a song'.
As the flame crieth unto the sap.
My song was ablaze with her and she went from me
As flame leaveth the embers so went she unto new forests '
And the words were with me
crying ever. 'Song, a song'.
And I 'I have no song',
Till my soul sent a woman as the sun:
Yea as the sun calleth to the seed,
As the spring upon the bough
So is she that cometh, the mother of songs,
She that holdeth the wonder words within her eyes
The words, little elf words
that call ever unto me,
'Song, a song'.
In vain have I striven with my soul
to teach my soul to bow.
What soul boweth
while in his heart art thou?
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Hear The Echo by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (Translated from Assamese)
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
I hear the echo
Of the screaming night
Carried over from the other side
Of the mountain bodering my village
I hear the echo
I train my ears but can't hear a thing
I open my eyes wide but can't see a thing
I close my eyes and think, but do not understand
I don't know how to climb a thousand mountains
I hear the echo of the screaming night
I hear the echo
May be its the tragic story of a young girl
May be its grandma's bedtime fairy tale
May be its the longing of a farmer's nursery
The tragic story of the young girl has come to an end
The bed time fairy tale of grandma has come to an end
The longings of the farmer's nursery has come to an end
The familiar song still escapes me
I hear the echo of the new cry
I hear the echo
My dark hair get tinted with morning's red hues
The panicky mist before the eyes vanishes to the blue
A thousand cries come out of a people awakened
A thousand mountains crumble in the impact of its sound
I hear an approaching storm in the sea of humanity
I hear the echo of the new cry
I hear the echo...
- Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (1953)
© Syed Ahmed Shah(Translator) , Bokultol, Guwahati.
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her Memories
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,
My token and remembrance with the rest:
But here, where in the brightening of the west
I see her mountains grow into the sky,
Her native world, and mine because of her,
Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood's stir,
That was her dearest music, fills all sound
,I am with her;
And always, always, past comes passing by,
Lost in her grave, but here as if half found.
Not by her grave: it is too still, too cold,
And save my loss is nothing with me there.
What memories have I there of her of old?
They came not there, the dear lost days that were;
Not she lies there, but only my despair;
Not she, but death and all my loneliness.
What memories save all memories love must shun?
I would not think of death and her as one;
She shall be only life-ful in my mind,
With life's self one;
A name of glad remindings and old bliss,
So something of her presence left behind.
Not by her grave: some day will I return,
When sorrow keeps its wont unvexed by place,
And, sitting on the turf beside, will learn
To call before me there her waking face,
Not that white face that slept and took no trace
Of change because I kissed it, nor for tears.
Some day; for now I should forget her so,
Lose the fair happy woman and but know
The coldness and the silence when she died,
Lose her all so,
My love that was my life of all for years.
She loved this music when the pinewoods sighed.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Face
There is a face I know too well,
A face I dread to see,
So vain it is, so eloquent
Of all futility.
It is a human face that hides
A monkey soul within,
That bangs about, that beats a gong,
That makes a horrid din.
Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
Athwart the human eyes,
And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
And utter social lies.
So wretched is this face, so vain,
So empty and forlorn,
You well may say that better far
This face had not been born.
poem by Stevie Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Desert Is In Your Heart
producer for bonnie: ?
Recorded in 1992 for sophie arbaniti 's album 'parafora', lyrics taken from
Careful listening.
First half of this song is in greek...so your guess is as good as mine - here's
The english part...
You move the veil from your face
And escape from the world that is hurting
You feel oppressed when you know
That the words are killing the meaning
There is no reason to hide in the dark
When you're far from the fighting
How can you dream in a world that is getting greyer than grey?
You don't have to hide your face, there's no disgrace
There's no harm in knowing that we're all a part of the human race
You have got to lift your head, think of what he said
You were born to know the truth, nothing but the truth, and what the truth is
Worth
Oh, the desert is in your heart
In your heart
The desert is in your heart
In your heart
It's so hard to try to forget
So many thinks you regret
You try to look back, but there's little to see
Just nothing can't take this pain from me
Oh, the desert is in your heart
In your heart
You don't have to hide your face
There's no disgrace
There's no harm in knowing we're all a part of the human race
You have got to lift your head, think of what he said
You were born to know the truth, nothing but the truth, and what the truth is
Worth
Oh, the desert is in your heart
In your heart
The desert is in your heart
In your heart
(greek)
In your heart
(greek)
The desert is in your heart
(greek)
The desert is in your heart
(greek)
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dreaming of My Deceased Wife on the Night of the 20th Day of the First Month
Ten years living and dead have drawn apart
I do nothing to remember
But I can not forget
Your lonely grave a thousand miles away...
Nowhere can I talk of my sorrow --
Even if we met, how would you know me
My face full of dust
My hair like snow?
In the dark of night, a dream: suddenly, I am home
You by the window
Doing your hair
I look at you and can not speak
Your face is streaked by endless tears
Year after year must they break my heart
These moonlit nights?
That low pine grave?
poem by Su Shi
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
You'll Never See My Face Again
Ev'ry single word has been spoken.
It's much to late to change your ways.
Far too many vows have been broken.
You can't expect a soul to stay.
You think that you can stand and lie.
It makes me laugh . You got no friends.
It took a thousand years to find out why.
You'll never see my face again .
You know that you've been left before this night.
It's come my turn to make it over.
I wish that ev'ry thing was coloured white.
I wish that I could be a rover.
You think that you can stand and lie.
It makes me laugh.You got no friends.
It took a thousand years to find out why.
You'll never see my face again .
repeat 1st verse
song performed by by Bee Gees from Odessa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Picture Of Sappho
I.
THOU! whose impassion'd face
The Painter loves to trace,
Theme of the Sculptor's art and Poet's story--
How many a wand'ring thought
Thy loveliness hath brought,
Warming the heart with its imagined glory!
II.
Yet, was it History's truth,
That tale of wasted youth,
Of endless grief, and Love forsaken pining?
What wert thou, thou whose woe
The old traditions show
With Fame's cold light around thee vainly shining?
III.
Didst thou indeed sit there
In languid lone despair--
Thy harp neglected by thee idly lying--
Thy soft and earnest gaze
Watching the lingering rays
In the far west, where summer-day was dying--
IV.
While with low rustling wings,
Among the quivering strings
The murmuring breeze faint melody was making,
As though it wooed thy hand
To strike with new command,
Or mourn'd with thee because thy heart was breaking?
V.
Didst thou, as day by day
Roll'd heavily away,
And left thee anxious, nerveless, and dejected,
Wandering thro' bowers beloved--
Roving where he had roved--
Yearn for his presence, as for one expected?
VI.
Didst thou, with fond wild eyes
Fix'd on the starry skies,
Wait feverishly for each new day to waken--
Trusting some glorious morn
Might witness his return,
Unwilling to believe thyself forsaken?
VII.
And when conviction came,
Chilling that heart of flame,
Didst thou, O saddest of earth's grieving daughters !
From the Leucadian steep
Dash, with a desperate leap,
And hide thyself within the whelming waters?
VIII.
Yea, in their hollow breast
Thy heart at length found rest!
The ever-moving waves above thee closing--
The winds, whose ruffling sigh
Swept the blue waters by,
Disturb'd thee not!--thou wert in peace reposing!
IX.
Such is the tale they tell!
Vain was thy beauty's spell--
Vain all the praise thy song could still inspire--
Though many a happy band
Rung with less skilful hand
The borrowed love-notes of thy echoing lyre.
X.
FAME, to thy breaking heart
No comfort could impart,
In vain thy brow the laurel wreath was wearing;
One grief and one alone
Could bow thy bright head down--
Thou wert a WOMAN, and wert left despairing!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Third Sunday After Trinity
O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
To come between us and all kindly thought!
Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul
Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves,
To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll,
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves.
In vain: the averted cheek in loneliest dell
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear,
The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell
Our heart's sad secret to the silent air.
Nor is the dream untrue; for all around
The heavens are watching with their thousand eyes,
We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound,
Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs.
He in the mazes of the budding wood
Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed
With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance.
In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen,
Unseen by man--but what if purer sprights
By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean
To adore the Father of all gentle lights?
If such there be, O grief and shame to think
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy,
A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy!
O turn, and be thou turned! the selfish tear,
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,
Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,
The turbid waters brightening as they run.
Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart
In penitential drops have ebbed away,
Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part,
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray.
O lost and found! all gentle souls below
Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove
Such joy o'er thee, as raptured seraphs know,
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.
poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Playmates
It's sixty years ago, the people say:
Two village children, neighbours born and bred,
One morning played beneath a rotten tree
That came down crash and caught them as they fled;
And one was killed and one was left unhurt
Except for certain fancies in his head.
And though it's all so very long ago
He's never left the wood a single day;
I've often met him peeping through the leaves
And chuckling to himself, an old man grey;
And once he started in his cracked old voice:
'We're playing I'm a merchant lost his way,
She's robbers in the wood behind yon tree,
The minute we grow up too big to play' -
poem by Ralph Hodgson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The return of the native,
Fully teethed I left you.
Toothless I return to you.
Where from I had come,
There to I want to return
In between, I never came back
Nor did I give you any thought.
Which bird thinks of the nest
When he flies in gay?
In twilight, cows return to shed.
As night falls, I return to you.
In your cradle, I was born,
Only where my roots are known.
On return, I shall dropp to you
What I had earned elsewhere
So that, of me, you are aware
And I can pass away with after care.
24.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Youll Never See My Face Again
Evry single word has been spoken.
Its much to late to change your ways.
Far too many vows have been broken.
You cant expect a soul to stay.
You think that you can stand and lie.
It makes me laugh . you got no friends.
It took a thousand years to find out why.
Youll never see my face again .
You know that youve been left before this night.
Its come my turn to make it over.
I wish that evry thing was coloured white.
I wish that I could be a rover.
You think that you can stand and lie.
It makes me laugh.you got no friends.
It took a thousand years to find out why.
Youll never see my face again .
Repeat 1st verse
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Nothing is Lost
Nothing is lost.
We are too sad to know that, or too blind;
Only in visited moments do we understand:
It is not that the dead return ---
They are about us always, though unguessed.
This penciled Latin verse
You dying wrote me, ten years past and more,
Brings you as much alive to me as the self you wrote it for,
Dear father, as I read your words
With no word but Alas.
Lines in a letter, lines in a face
Are the faithful currents of life: the boy has written
His parents across his forehead, and as we burn
Our bodies up each seven years,
His own past self has left no plainer trace.
Nothing dies.
The cells pass on their secrets, we betray them
Unknowingly: in a freckle, in the way
We walk, recall some ancestor,
And Adam in the color of our eyes.
Yes, on the face of the new born,
Before the soul has taken full possession,
There pass, as over a screen, in succession
The images of other beings:
Face after face looks out, and then is gone.
Nothing is lost, for all in love survive.
I lay my cheek against his sleeping limbs
To feel if he is warm, and touch in him
Those children whom no shawl could warm,
No arms, no grief, no longing could revive.
Thus what we see, or know,
Is only a tiny portion, at the best,
Of the life in which we share; an iceberg’s crest
Our sunlit present, our partial sense,
With deep supporting multitudes below.
poem by Anne Barbara Ridler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Face With A Difference
I see somewhere around me
A face with a difference.
I see a face that`s not set on my face.
Its lips don`t kiss mine.
Its breath doesn`t feel mine
But I continue to see that face with a difference.
In the midst of faces that smile and sack
This is a different face indeed.
When I draw a picture of a face
I shall consider this one indeed.
This face has a thousand reflections
And in the twilight of my evening
I shall cherish this one face ever and ever.
In the corridors of my future unwoven
I shall chase this face henceforth.
My eyes see the difference
And that face begins to merge with mine.
My face turns upward to see
The things brighter and shapely.
I have now a face.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Long Years Have Past Since Last I Stood
LONG years have past since last I stood
Alone amid this mountain scene,
Unlike the future which I dreamed,
How like my future it has been!
A cold grey sky o'erhung with clouds,
With showers in every passing shade,
How like the moral atmosphere
Whose gloom my horoscope has made!
I thought if yet my weary feet
Could rove my native hills again,
A world of feeling would revive,
Sweet feelings wasted, worn in vain.
My early hopes, my early joys,
I dreamed those valleys would restore;
I asked for childhood to return,
For childhood, which returns no more.
Surely the scene itself is changed!
There did not always rest as now
That shadow in the valley's depth,
That gloom upon the mountain-brow.
Wild flowers within the chasms dwelt
Like treasures in stone fairy hold,
And morning o'er the mountains shed
Her kindling world of vapoury gold.
Another season of the year
Is now upon the earth and me;
Another spring will light these hills—
No other spring mine own may be:
I must retune my unstrung harp,
I must awake the sleeping tomb,
I must recall the loved and lost,
Ere spring again for me could bloom.
I've wandered, but it was in vain,
In many a far and foreign clime,
Absence is not forgetfulness,
And distance cannot vanquish time.
One face was ever in my sight,
One voice was ever on my ear,
From all earth's loveliness I turned
To wish, Ah that the dead were here!
Oh! weary wandering to no home,
Oh! weary wandering alone,
I turned to childhood's once glad scenes
And found life's last illusion flown.
Ah! those who left their childhood's scenes
For after-years of toil and pain,
Who but bring back the breaking heart
Should never seek those scenes again.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm left all alone
I’m left all alone to cry at night with no one to hold on to
I’m left all alone to fix my wounds and to hide my tears
I’m left all alone to face my fears because theres no one to guide me
I’m left all alone no one to hide me for who I really am
I’m left all alone to face everyone and everything
I’m left all alone but why won’t anyone help me
Well now I know I’m not worth saving from the loneliness….
poem by Brittany Gaebel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Enough Just To Know!
what is change?
a radical move to
the right or left?
a leaving of the past,
and all its baggage?
a fresh coat of paint?
a new lover?
the death of a friend?
seasons pass to seasons,
and then return...
changing, or evolving?
maybe an endless cycle!
where are we going?
do we know?
do we have to go?
will it be better or worse
when we arrive?
what are we looking for?
are we the picture,
or the paint not yet dry?
whose hand holds the brush?
and who is the painting for?
is it change we seek for?
or a return to something long forgotten?
must we create again and anew?
or is something there that we have lost?
does the wind know or care
where it came from,
and where it is going?
or is it enough just to know,
just to be, the wind?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Minnie's Departure
Air -- "Mount Vernon"
Dearest Minnie, she has left us,
In this world of grief and woe,
But 'tis God that has bereft us,
He called her little soul to go.
Minnie's gone to dwell in heaven,
Where bright little angels reign.
Her little soul has reached a haven
Where there is no grief and pain.
God will bless his little treasurers,
One by one, that come to Him;
Though she has left this world forever,
We will put our trust in Him.
Oh! we loved our little dear one,
It's no human tongue can tell --
God has called her to come to him,
Yet he doeth all things well.
Oh! 'twas hard for us to leave her
In her little grave so low --
Leave that little silent sleeper,
But 'tis there we all must go.
Oh! we miss our little treasure,
And her loss we deeply feel --
When we think she's gone forever,
Tears there from our eyes will steal.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Thank You, Lord
I thank You My Lord for this happy moment
Crossing my face with a half-moon smile
For the song in my soul and the tears of salt
This sacred melody draws from my eyes
Thank You Adonai for the sudden feeling
By which I stand inescapably moved
The sun on the Alps, the covering of snow
That rests only overshadowed by You
Praises on my tongue, Majestic of Ages
For each precious phrase locked within the Shema
Causing me to be born in Jewry
Commanded to write on the page of my heart
May they each arrive, to the ears of Almighty
These halting words of a man occupied
In collecting the tiny fragments of shells
That He by His Wisdom left buried to find
I will never be claiming to seeing you, Lord
Or think to your presence that I can come near
I must yet be a stranger, but I write to thank
The One known as You for the beauty in here.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Never Ending Story (live Acoustic Version)
Armies have conquered
And fallen in the end
Kingdoms have risen
Then buried by sand
The Earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
She puts us to sleep and
In her light we'll awake
We'll all be forgotten
There's no endless fame
But everything we do
Is never in vain
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?
Forests and deserts
Rivers, blue seas
Mountains and valleys
Nothing here stays
While we think we witness
We are part of the scene
This never-ending story
Where will it lead to?
The earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
But she is also a part
A part of the tale
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?
We're part of a story, part of a tale
Sometimes beautiful and sometimes insane
No one remembers how it began
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!