Roman Elegies I
Tell me you stones, O speak, you towering palaces!
Streets, say a word! Spirit of this place, are you dumb?
All things are alive in your sacred walls
eternal Rome, only for me all’s still.
Who will whisper to me, at what window
will I see the sweet thing who will kindle me, and quicken?
Already I guess the ways, walking to her and from her,
ever and always I’ll go, while sweet time slips by.
I’m gazing at church and palace, ruin and column,
like a serious man making sensible use of a journey,
but soon it will happen, and all will be one vast temple,
Love’s temple, receiving its new initiate.
Though you are a whole world, Rome, still, without Love,
the world’s not the world, Rome cannot be Rome.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Rome
O thou newcomer who seek’st Rome in Rome
And find’st in Rome no thing thou canst call Roman;
Arches worn old and palaces made common
Rome’s name alone within these walls keeps home.
Behold how pride and ruin can befall
One who hath set the whole world ’neath her laws,
All-conquering, now conquered, because
She is Time’s prey, and Time conquereth all.
Rome that art Rome’s one sole last monument,
Rome that alone hast conquered Rome the town,
Tiber alone, transient and seaward bent,
Remains of Rome. O world, thou unconstant mime!
That which stands firm in thee Time batters down,
And that which fleeteth doth outrun swift Time.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Epitaph To Rome
If midst Rome you wish to see Rome, pilgrim,
Tho in Rome naught of Rome might you see,
Behold the walls' ring, the theatres, temples
And ruptured pillars, to rubble all turned,
Rome be these! Mark how the corpse of a city
So strong still past fortune's pomp exudes;
Subduing a world, herself the city subdued
Lest yet more to subdue might there be.
Today in broken Rome, Rome unbroken
(A substance in its shadow) lies entombed.
Within all's changed; alone past change
Tiber remains, that to sea runs mixed with sand.
See what Fortune plays: 'tis wasted away,
What was unmoving; what moved, yet remains.
poem by Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
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North Atlantic Drift
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Its a cultural shift its the North Atlantic Drift
Americana and a rule Britannia
And the moon yes we own that to
And where the Euphrates meets the other rivers
Is now the home of the devil and the liar
And the pyre we plan to make
Is just the drift leaving its wake, home
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
And the films you want to watch
And the films you want to make
And the kids like lost angels
Dressed in black sensations
And the shift won? shake
And the drift won? brake
With billions of Diamonds growing like olives
And the drift holds the coffers
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back To Rome
One day its the morning
Another day its the afternoon light
On day, baby, without warning
Well, I tend to think were going back to rome
Back to rome
We had a dream it was behemoth
Im so sorry that I didnt work out
And Im sorry about the visigoths
Well, I think its time that we go back to rome
Back to rome
Dont you wish that we could stay?
Were going back to rome
Life is so fine
Then it goes wrong
Wrong
You think its going to miss you but that sun bitch gon get you
Yeah, it goes wrong
Wrong
Sun bitch gon get you
I believed in the cupid
I thought Id kiss you for all my life
I guess Im just a little stupid
Now Im going back to rome
Back to rome
Now I just cant wait
Im going back to rome
Love is so high
Then it goes wrong
Wrong
You think its going to miss you but that sun bitch gon get you
Yeah, it goes wrong
Wrong
Sun bitch gon get you
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Roman Gravemounds
By Rome's dim relics there walks a man,
Eyes bent; and he carries a basket and spade;
I guess what impels him to scrape and scan;
Yea, his dreams of that Empire long decayed.
'Vast was Rome,' he must muse, 'in the worlds regard,
Vast it looms there still, Vast it ever will be;'
And he stoops as to dig and unmine some shard
Left by those who are held in such memory.
But no; in his basket, see, he has brought
A little white furred thing, stiff of limb,
Whose life never won from the world a thought;
It is this, and not Rome, that is moving him.
And to make it a grave he has come to the spot,
And he delves in the ancient dead's long home;
Their fames, their achievements, the man knows not;
The furred thing is all to him - nothing Rome!
'Here say you that Caesar's warriors lie? -
But my little white cat was my only friend!
Could she but live, might the record die
Of Caesar, his legions, his aims, his end!'
Well, Rome's long rule here is oft and again
A theme for the sages of history,
And the small furred life was worth no one's pen;
Yet its mourner's mood has a charm for me.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVI
The majesty of Rome to me is nought;
The imperial story of her conquering car
Touches me only with compassionate thought
For the doomed nations faded by her star.
Her palaces of Caesars tombstones are
For a whole world of freedoms vainly caught
In her high fortune. Throned was she in war;
By war she perished. So is justice wrought.
A nobler Rome is here, which shall not die.
She rose from the dead ashes of men's lust,
And robed herself anew in chastity,
And half redeemed man's heritage of dust.
This Rome I fain would love, though darkly hid
In mists of passion and desires scarce dead.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Roman Girl's Song
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
On thy seven hills of yore
Thou satst a queen.
Thou hadst thy triumphs then
Purpling the street,
Leaders and sceptred men
Bow'd at thy feet.
They that thy mantle wore,
As gods were seen–
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
Rome! thine imperial brow
Never shall rise:
What hast thou left thee now?
Thou hast thy skies!
Blue, deeply blue, they are,
Gloriously bright!
Veiling thy wastes afar
With colour'd light.
Thou hast the sunset's glow,
Rome, for thy dower,
Flushing tall cypress-bough,
Temple and tower!
And all sweet sounds are thine,
Lovely to hear,
While night, o'er tomb and shrine,
Rests darkly clear.
Many a solemn hymn,
By starlight sung,
Sweeps thro' the arches dim,
Thy wrecks among.
Many a flute's low swell,
On thy soft air
Lingers, and loves to dwell
With summer there.
Thou hast the South's rich gift
Of sudden song,
A charmed fountain, swift,
Joyous, and strong.
Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dead.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Home Sweet Home
There is no other place like Home
The saying goes true in India, America or Rome,
Home is one of the sweetest place
Where one finds peace and solace,
Home is a place where we dwell
A place as sacred as the temple bell,
Just as a bird returns to its nest
We return home to get a little rest,
Wherever we roam in search of enjoyment
We never fail back to come to our pavement,
Its not possible to find a home away from home
The saying goes true in India, America or Rome.
poem by Kavita Iyer
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AAAC) Rome
In old Rome everybody did his own work.
There were the slaves all over the world,
Unluckily the world has not changed,
Luckily those slaves could become freedmen.
The ten ases coin valued more than the Greek dram,
The Romans did not devalue their denarius.
As a kid one read about old Rome hoping to grow up.
Machiavelli dreamt he came back to old Rome changing his clothes in the evening.
We held our suits and have our homework.
A Lady gave her daughter a copper jewel box as a dowry.
We know she's a great catch that girl with her cista Ficoroni.
poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
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We cannot afford more of this modern day Rome
Being positive, transcendent while neglecting your emotional pain, being blind to it while unconsciously projecting your hurts into others, will still cause you to succeed materially, you will still obtain your abundance, your vast wealth, Rome, The Roman Empire is a good example, you will have your desires, but at a dehumanizing cost.
We cannot afford more of this modern day Rome. Now Rome can not only destroy itself but all life. Then what, will we get a free ride on another planet. We are just going to be so welcome and simply fit in after our self-destruction. Are we that arrogant where we think we will not have to start over from dust?
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Ideals
Better than land or gold or trade
Are a high ideal and a purpose true;
Better than all of the wealth we've made
Is the work for others that now we do.
For Rome grew rich and she turned to song
And danced to music and drank her wine,
But she sapped the strength of her fibres strong
And a gilded shroud was her splendor fine.
The Rome of old with its wealth and wine
Was the handiwork of a sturdy race;
They builded well and they made it fine
And they dreamed of it as their children's place.
They thought the joys they had won to give,
And which seemed so certain and fixed and sure,
To the end of time in the world would live
And the Rome they'd fashioned would long endure.
They passed to their children the hoarded gold,
Their marble halls and their fertile fields!
But not the spirit of Rome of old,
Nor the Roman courage that never yields.
They left them the wealth that their hands had won,
But they failed to leave them a purpose true.
They left them thinking life's work all done,
And Rome went down and was lost to view.
We must guard ourselves lest we follow Rome.
We must leave our children the finer things.
We must teach them love of the spot called home
And the lasting joy that a purpose brings.
For vain are our Flag and our battles won,
And vain are our lands and our stores of gold,
If our children feel that life's work is done.
We must give them a high ideal to hold.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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When In Rome
When in Rome,
One should adjust to do...
Those activities that Romans choose.
It is not one's place,
To advocate...
What IS or IS NOT acceptable.
Or in poor taste.
When 'not' in Rome...
And that visit of condoning,
Has been left behind and alone...
There is no obligated need,
To continue to feed those traditions.
And 'when' one finds it comforting,
To do what one wishes in one's own home...
That's when it is best to profess and address one's beliefs.
With a feeling,
If one so desires...
To dismiss what is not suitable or fits.
In one's 'own' environment.
With no debate or argument to invite about this.
When 'not' in Rome.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cafe Prague.
Cream coloured coffee
And hot buttered toast
August sunshine
A packet of cigarettes
Talks on love and life
Friends and strangers all together
Days of summer
Seated on outside chairs
Tears and laughter
Mixed in the air
Of the perfect day just us and them
Cafe pavements
The world at view
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Used coffee cups
And ashtrays too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Trendy young girls
And the wannabe author
Auster, Adams and Mr. Salinger
Days of dreaming
The perfect film
In view for all to see
Hello, hello
So good to see you
Was it twelve?
Or maybe it was two
I’ll sit and wait
And think of you
Cafe pavements
For me and you
Pairs, Rome and cafe Prague
Dirty spoons and knives
And glasses too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Teacups and Earl grey
And ice cream sundaes
Black and white life
In full technicolour
Light my cigarette
And I’ll listen all day
Sunshine days
Storm clouds - away
The table over there
Just a smiling man
For today - all alone
Waiting his time
Cafe pavements
The world today
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Beautiful Ladies
And business gents
Paris, Rome and Cafe Prague
Student cameras
And picture painting
Hollywood lifestyle
In the common street
Brando, Dean and Al Pacino
Next to you and me
See you later
Maybe tomorrow
Give me a ring
And we’ll make a date
I’ll sit and think
And wait for you
Cafe pavements
For meetings and lunch
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Perfect tables
And used up chairs
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
poem by Patrick Sant
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Lorel
The Catholic Church started from Rome,
But i saw your nakendness walking across the street of love;
And like the Angles and the Saxons in England,
But my sweet name is Lorel.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Wealth conquered Rome after Rome had conquered the world.
When In Rome
Well, you must be from the city
'Cause you sure ain't from round here
There ain't no smoke free section
We don't sell no import beer.
You been throwin' round that attitude
Since you walked in that door
I don't know where you come from
But you ain't there anymore
When in Rome,
You can do like the Roman's
But, when your down home
You better do like us.
You been lookin' down your nose
At our water tower town
Ain't no one getting rich
But, there's enough to go around.
If ya don't like tracy's cookin'
Well, ya best still leave a tip
She's back there in that kitchen
With a baby on her hip.
When in Rome,
You can do like the Roman's
But, when your down home
You better do like us.
You put your best foot forward
When you go to meet a man
Look him in the eye
And put a good grip on his hand.
Don't cuss around the ladies
Tell us how to raise our kids
We like doing business
Like our daddys, daddys did.
When you drive off in your beamer
If ya don't do 35
Don't give no lip to Beuford
Or he might just dot your eye.
And when your at the courthouse
Before Ole judge McCall
You best not say a word
About them comandments on his wall.
Naw!
When in Rome,
You can do like the Roman's
But when your down home
You better do like us.
Yeah, Yeah Yeah
When in Rome,
You can do like the Roman's
But when your down home
You better do like us.
Mmmm Hmmmm
Better do like us boy
Don't you come in here talking all that trash
Ya just might get your nose smashed.
When in Rome,
You can do like the Roman's...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orientalist And Western World - Wael Moreicheh
ORIENTALIST AND WESTERN WORLD
DANCE INTO THE MOON LAND
FROM SOUTH AMERICA TO NORTH AMERICA
OUR STONES FROM ROME
AND ROME FROM
MARAVEL
ALSO STORMS OF LAVENDER TIMES BAST OLD EARTH LAND
FROM GODDESS
AND GOD FROM
HUMANE
WAEL MOREICHEH
WAEL MOREICHEH
poem by Wael Moreicheh
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Heart Of Rome
(words & music by stephens - blaikley - howard)
In a little while youre leavin
Starting on the journey home
Soon Ill be alone, the one who loves you
La la la la la, somewhere in the heart of rome
Ill make a wish in every fountain
Say a prayer that youll return
Minutes Ill be counting
May the fire of love still burn
Ill keep your picture by my pillow
And pretend Im not alone
Make believe that you are with me
La la la la la, in the heart of rome
Suddenly the tears are falling
As we hear the whistle blow
Hold me very close before you leave me
La la la la la, somewhere in the heart of rome
Ill make a wish in every fountain
Say a prayer that youll return
Minutes Ill be counting
May the fire of love still burn
Ill keep your picture by my pillow
And pretend Im not alone
Make believe that you are with me
La la la la la, in the heart of rome
Ill make a wish in every fountain
Say a prayer that youll return
Minutes Ill be counting
May the fire of love still burn
Ill keep your picture by my pillow
And pretend Im not alone
Make believe that you are with me
La la la la la, in the heart of rome
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear It Down
We find out the heart only by dismantling what
the heart knows. By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
We can break through marriage into marriage.
By insisting on love we spoil it, get beyond
affection and wade mouth-deep into love.
We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.
But going back toward childhood will not help.
The village is not better than Pittsburgh.
Only Pittsburgh is more than Pittsburgh.
Rome is better than Rome in the same way the sound
of raccoon tongues licking the inside walls
of the garbage tub is more than the stir
of them in the muck of the garbage. Love is not
enough. We die and are put into the earth forever.
We should insist while there is still time. We must
eat through the wildness of her sweet body already
in our bed to reach the body within that body.
poem by Jack Gilbert
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Tear It Down
We find out the heart only by dismantling what
the heart knows. By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
We can break through marriage into marriage.
By insisting on love we spoil it, get beyond
affection and wade mouth-deep into love.
We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.
But going back toward childhood will not help.
The village is not better than Pittsburgh.
Only Pittsburgh is more than Pittsburgh.
Rome is better than Rome in the same way the sound
of racoon tongues licking the inside walls
of the garbage tub is more than the stir
of them in the muck of the garbage. Love is not
enough. We die and are put into the earth forever.
We should insist while there is still time. We must
eat through the wildness of her sweet body already
in our bed to reach the body within the body.
poem by Jack Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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