Related quotes: O this air, intoxicated with...

O this air, intoxicated with sedition

O this air, intoxicated with sedition,
On the black square of the Kremlin.
The agitators rock the teetering world .
It smells of restless poplars.

The waxen facades of the cathedrals,
The thick forest of bells,
As if a tongueless bandit
Had vanished in the stony rafters.

But in the sealed cathedrals,
Where it is cool and dark,
Like in delicate clay amphoras,
The Russian wine sparkles.

The whole Assumption, wonderfully rotund,
The marvel of the arches of Paradise.
And the Annunciation, in green,
Suddenly seems to start to crow.

The Archangel and Resurrection
Show through like a palm,
Everywhere the secret burning, --
In the wine jugs a hidden flame.

poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Every church sings its own soft part

Every church sings its own soft part
In the polyphony of a girl's choir,
And in the stone arches of the Assumption
I make out high, arched brows.

From the ramparts, fortified by archangels,
I surveyed the city from a marvelous height.
Within the walls of the Acropolis, I was consumed
With sorrow for the Russian name, for Russian beauty.

Isn't it just marvelous, we dream
Of an orchard, soaring pigeons in the hot blue sky,
A nun is singing the litany:
Tender Assumption: Florence in Moscow.

The five-domed cathedrals of Moscow,
With their Italian and Russian soul
Bring to mind the Aurora, but with a
Russian name, and in a fur coat.

poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

With the Young Wine

Sun sets purple,

Swallow has already flown far off.

Under arches in the evening

New wine goes round;

Snow falls behind the mountain.

Summer's last green drifts away,

Hunter comes from the forest.

Under arches in the evening

New wine goes round;

Snow falls behind the mountain.

Bat blows around the forehead,

A stranger comes silently.

Under arches in the evening

New wine goes round;

Snow falls behind the mountain.

poem by Georg Trakl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Aurora Borealis

    A crystallization of color spreads from the upper regions of the dark sky towards the trembling nipples of the waves. The feathering fringes of clouds fade behind pillars of green light. Transparent curtains tremble every-where. In the arctic temple, the hidden Samson of light shakes the moon-green pillars of the night.
    Color these crystals with sudden blood; it is dawn, or else the last consumptive saliva of the dying day. Heartless hard light!
    In the crisp light of the frozen tinkling stars, no waters flow. The ice-stars are icebergs in this black ocean. When the green glass cathedrals crash, the light and the pillars of light and the green pillars of moon-green crystallized light are reflected through space and finally settle like sharp blades above the trembling nipples of the waves.
    Samson moves in the glass cathedrals. Samson and the bull and Samson and the sun and the sun is the bull and Samson is the sun and is the bull.
    Let crackling twigs of green-white light weave fantastic tree-patterns on the mirror of the sea. Let the deceptive sky celebrate the fall of its ice-cathedrals and its icebergs and its ice-stars when darkness hardens the black waters into the sullen black ice-pack of night.
    Red Samson the arctic red sun is moving in the groves of green pillars. There is the red tinge of consumptive blood flickering behind the moon-green glass pillars of light. Blood of red Samson, red blood of Samson, the red thief is sprinkling blood on the slanting pillars of the falling sanctuary of light that is doomed to succumb soon to the black ice-pack of night. Then there will be night and, suddenly thrust into dark night, the red sex of the Samson-sun must later rise out of eastern whiteness and destroy the night.
    Then the pillars of the black shattered temple of night glow with a white light and a red light of consumptive blood, but again later comes night then again the same Samson as the temples crash each time when the red thief scatters blood on the pillars of the light or the pillars of the night. And the thief is Samson and the red sun is Samson and Samson is the thief and Samson is the sun.

poem by Edouard Roditi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

He who has seen one cathedral ten times has seen something; he who has seen ten cathedrals once has seen but little; and he who has spent half an hour in each of a hundred cathedrals has seen nothing at all.

quote by Sinclair Lewis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

These old ballparks are like cathedrals in America. We don't have big old Gothic cathedrals like they do in Europe. But we got baseball parks.

quote by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Cider Song

To J.S.M.

The wine they drink in Paradise
They make in Haute Lorraine;
God brought it burning from the sod
To be a sign and signal rod
That they that drink the blood of God
Shall never thirst again.

The wine they praise in Paradise
They make in Ponterey,
The purple wine of Paradise,
But we have better at the price;
It's wine they praise in Paradise,
It's cider that they pray.

The wine they want in Paradise
They find in Plodder's End,
The apple wine of Herford,
Of Hafod Hill and Herford,
Where woods went down to Herford,
And there I had a friend.

The soft feet of the blessed go
In the soft western vales,
The road of the silent saints accord,
The road from heaven to Herford,
Where the apple wood of Herford
Goes all the way to Wales.

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Party In The Kremlin

Party in the kremlin
People seein red
Lenin got the elbow
Its a different mob instead
Party in the kremlin
Its the only place to be
You better wear your rolex
Like a true new revolutionary
Party in the kremlin
No more kgb
So what is it they do now?
Can anybody see?
Party in the kremlin
Its the hottest spot in town
Discos and casinos
Never let you down
Trippin in siberia
Rock and roll hysteria
Vladivostok to moscow
And all points in between
Its a new place
Got a new face
And a brand new dream
Party in the kremlin
Suits from tokyo
Guccis are a shinin
Smokin marlboro
Party in the kremlin
Drivin foreign cars
You better find an angle
If you want to play a part
Dancing bears and presidents
Acting under influence
We got bank loans
And cell phones
And levis to wear
They got us linin up
For mickey ds in pushkin square
Vsea govorjat dal
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin
Party in the kremlin

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Feeling Guilty

if i met Tu Fu
and Li Po sometime
on top of the
misty mountain
and see them with their
poetry and
jugs of wine
beside the winding
yellow river

I'd tell them about
my guilt
that i am one kind of
a lost soul
preoccupied too
with poetry

sans the jugs of wine
but with a number of
concubines.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A palm wine taper does not stop tapping palm wine because he once fell from the top of a palm wine tree.

African proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Wine (Love Poem)

Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day

poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Uncle Albert

Venus And Mars/Rock Show
Paul McCartney & Wings
Sitting in the stand of the sports arena
Waiting for the show to begin
Red lights, green lights, strawberry wine
A good friend of mine, follow the stars
Venus and Mars
Are alright tonight
Whats that man holding in his hands?
He looks a lot like a guy I knew way back when
Its silly willy with the Philly band
Could be...... Oo-ee.........
If there's a Rock Show
At the Concertgebow
They've got long hair
At the Madison Square
You've got Rock and Roll
At the Hollywood Bowl
We'll be there.......... Oh yeah.........
The lighst go down - they're back in town O.K.
Behind the stacks you glimpse an axe
The tension mounts you score an ounce Ole!
Temperatures rise as you see the white of their eyes
If there's a Rock Show.........
In my green metal suit I'm preparing to shoot up the City
And the ring at the end of my nose makes me look rather pretty
Its a pity there's nobody here to witness the end
Save for my dear old friend and confidante - Madamoiselle Kitty
Whats that man movin' to and fro?
That decibel meter doesn't seem to be reading low
But they was louder at the Rainbow
Could be.......... Oo-ee..........
If there's a Rock Show
At the Concertgebow
They've got long hair
At the Madison Square
You've got Rock and Roll
At the Hollywood Bowl
We'll be there.......... Oh yeah.........
If there's a Rock Show......
If there's a Rock Show......
If there's a Rock Show......

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Black Crow

He sees the stormy anger of the world
And wants no part of it at all
And as the weeping leaves of autumn curl
He feels the savage winter call
See far below the dust of conflict settles on the hill
Where there was no escape before
And as he spreads his wings and soars up to another level
He brings the icy prophecies of war
Black crow, black crow, tell me where you really go
When you fly into the sunset, high in evening sky,
Black crow, black crow, tell me what you really know
Will we flourish in this hurricane, or will we fall and die?
While children lose their souls and so much more
To ragged armies of the field
A vicious fanfare cries appeasing hungry savages
To trigger that their fate is surely sealed
I wonder where that black crow sleeps as day beckons the night
Or if he even sleeps at all
I wonder what he thinks of all the human traffic far below
Thats struggled on the road so, so long
Tell me black crow, black crow (solely? ) you pass above
Understanding everything but you know nothing at all
Black crow black crow, tell me what you really know
Do you understand the pain that we feel down here at all

song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

And They Obey

Smash down the cities.
Knock the walls to pieces.
Break the factories and cathedrals, warehouses
and homes
Into loose piles of stone and lumber and black
burnt wood:
You are the soldiers and we command you.
Build up the cities.
Set up the walls again.
Put together once more the factories and cathedrals,
warehouses and homes
Into buildings for life and labor:
You are workmen and citizens all: We
command you.

poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Love

Words & music by paul simon
Cool me
Cool my fever high
Hold me when I cry
I need it so much
Makes you want to get down and crawl like a beggar
For its touch
And all the while its free as air
Like plants the medicine is everywhere
Love
Love
Love
We crave it so badly
Makes you want to laugh out loud when you receive it
And gobble it like candy
We think its easy
Sometimes its easy
But its not easy
Youre going to break down and cry
Were not important
We should be grateful
And if youre wondering why
Love
Love
Love
The price that we pay
When evil walks the planet
And love is crushed like clay
The master races, the chosen peoples
The burning temples, the weeping cathedrals

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Mariner

he violet scent is sacred
Like dreams of angels bright;
The hawthorn smells of passion
Told in a moonless night.

But the smell is in my nostrils,
Through blossoms red or gold,
Of my own green flower unfading,
A bitter smell and bold.

The lily smells of pardon,
The rose of mirth; but mine
Smells shrewd of death and honour,
And the doom of Adam's line.

The heavy scent of wine-shops
Floats as I pass them by,
But never a cup I quaff from,
And never a house have I.

Till dropped down forty fathoms,
I lie eternally;
And drink from God's own goblet
The green wine of the sea.

poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

The Palm-Tree

Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?

A ship whose keel is of palm beneath,
Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath,
And a rudder of palm it steereth with.

Branches of palm are its spars and rails,
Fibres of palm are its woven sails,
And the rope is of palm that idly trails!

What does the good ship bear so well?
The cocoa-nut with its stony shell,
And the milky sap of its inner cell.

What are its jars, so smooth and fine,
But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine,
And the cabbage that ripens under the Line?

Who smokes his nargileh, cool and calm?
The master, whose cunning and skill could charm
Cargo and ship from the bounteous palm.

In the cabin he sits on a palm-mat soft,
From a beaker of palm his drink is quaffed,
And a palm-thatch shields from the sun aloft!

His dress is woven of palmy strands,
And he holds a palm-leaf scroll in his hands,
Traced with the Prophet's wise commands!

The turban folded about his head
Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid,
And the fan that cools him of palm was made.

Of threads of palm was the carpet spun
Whereon he kneels when the day is done,
And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one!

To him the palm is a gift divine,
Wherein all uses of man combine,--
House, and raiment, and food, and wine!

And, in the hour of his great release,
His need of the palm shall only cease
With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace.

'Allah il Allah!' he sings his psalm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm;
'Thanks to Allah who gives the palm!'

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Heritage

Now the dead past seems vividly alive,
And in this shining moment I can trace,
Down through the vista of the vanished years,
Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face.
And suddenly some secret spring's released,
And unawares a riddle is revealed,
And I can read like large, black-lettered print,
What seemed before a thing forever sealed.

I know the magic word, the graceful thought,
The song that fills me in my lucid hours,
The spirit's wine that thrills my body through,
And makes me music-drunk, are yours, all yours.

I cannot praise, for you have passed from praise,
I have no tinted thoughts to paint you true;
But I can feel and I can write the word;
The best of me is but the least of you.

poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!