An Elegy By The Danube
I travel quietly, my walk in silence sank
Through the dreams of the legions asleep
On the hill slopes, avoiding the paths steep
By the old Danube river bank.
The Roman armies have left the ground
The town is still and the night is long
To evade the ghosts only I am still strong
Everywhere silence, sadness all around.
The scent of winter is by autumn spread
The sticky leaves are piled by the rain
We search in darkness, but it's all in vain
Nothing to be seen, nothing to be said.
The waves are plunging the shore proudly
The distant Moon is refusing to shine
The stars are chasing your silence and mine
That's not a sorrow - that's an elegy.
Translated by Ivan Boskovic and Aleksandra Dragosavljevic
poem by Natasa Bajic
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Related quotes
Shoes on the Bank of the Danube
On a sunny day in Budapest
The Danube Promenade offers a serene stroll.
The Royal Palace perched on Castle Hill
Greets you under an azure sky
And the mountains of Buda wave brightly
Their wooded hands across the river.
But along your peaceful walk listen
To the quiet murmur of the Danube,
Listen to the shifting waves that whisper
About bottomless grieves and sorrows.
The river drifts irremovable memories,
On the flowing waters float
Myriad sad stories.
Not far from the Parliament building
And the Academy of Sciences
Sculpted shoes cast in iron
Line the left bank of the Danube;
Between Roosevelt Square and Kossuth Square:
Sixty period-exact footwear,
In the style of the 1940s, conceived
And created by the sculptor Gyula Pauer
And the poet Janos Can Togay.
Attached to the top of the stone embankment,
The shoes symbolize real shoes of real people
Who lost their lives here.
They commemorate thousands of persecuted
Men, women and children,
Mostly Jews, who were murdered
By Nazi thugs in the terrible days
Of the Hungarian Arrow Cross terror
Between October 1944 and February 1945.
While the Soviet Red Army had encircled
Budapest and its units were already fighting
In the suburbs of the capital, Arrow Cross
Militiamen rounded up Jews in groups of fifty
To sixty and led them to the bridges linking
Pest with Buda.
When they reached the river bank
The executioners told their frightened victims
To remove their shoes and put all their jewellery,
Watches, money and other valuables inside.
And then they shot them into a freezing death.
Drift ice floated on the winter Danube,
The water turned red from the blood of the victims
As the river carried away their bodies.
On a serene walk along the Danube
Listen to the quiet murmur of the river.
Listen to the shifting waves that whisper
About bottomless grieves and sorrows.
The river drifts irremovable memories,
On the flowing waters float myriad sad stories.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The River
When my wife died I used to walk alone by the river,
but I don’t go near there any more.
Lost souls who had drowned used to speak to me
of the lives they had once before.
Every time I went they asked me to enter the water,
‘It will clear your mind, ’ they said.
I told them that I had never learned how to swim
and drowning is the only thing I dread.
One early morning I was walking along the river-bank
and the bank collapsed beneath my feet.
I found myself being swept along by the raging current
and saw my wife drowning in the deep.
Several of the dead I used to talk with held me under,
my breath expired and I just sank.
My wife pulled me up from the river’s depths
and a fisherman revived me on the bank.
poem by Orlando Belo
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My river bank
The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank
poem by EmOzEd johnston
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The Danube River
Long live the danube river
Where every man from all over the world sail
Just to be with you
Danube river
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Deserted River
THE river is complete nude,
no water or a stream,
no birds which flies around,
no beast animal visit to quench its thirst,
the boat half sank in the sand,
the boater left the bank,
the edges of river disappered,
no soul around,
the river is deserted till miles,
slowly the black clouds appeared,
suddenly it disapperaed,
the river dies a lonely death.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Along the river
Water bends, rolls down
to fiind a place to banks,
waves break by stones
and curl up around them,
yellow poplars,
that watch the river, tremble,
drooping willows wash their locks
in hesitating water.
I remember how I was fishing
under shaded banks
with my friends.
Fishes were avoiding my fishing rod
and were inviting me to the competition with them.
From the river that winds tremblingly,
I hear melancholic verse of the natives
gone to the fishing with the boat.I have felt asleep.
It has seemed to me that a beautiful gondola with a miraculous fairy
has crossed the river.
I was charmed by the beauty of the fairy
that has glittered on the lustre of the water.
On the bank, I have done token to the gondola
and the oarsman has brought the gondola near the bank.
At the light of the torch, I have caught the hand of the fairy
and I have invited her on the bank.
A spark has died out in her heart,
bugle of silver has blown long
the disappearance of the gondola.
The fishers from the village have woken me up:
„ It was getting late.You have to go home”.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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The Alde
How near I walked to Love,
How long, I cannot tell.
I was like the Alde that flows
Quietly through green level lands,
So quietly, it knows
Their shape, their greenness and their shadows well;
And then undreamingly for miles it goes
And silently, beside the sea.
Seamews circle over,
The winter wildfowl wings,
Long and green the grasses wave
Between the river and the sea.
The sea's cry, wild or grave,
From bank to low bank of the river rings;
But the uncertain river though it crave
The sea, knows not the sea.
Was that indeed salt wind?
Came that noise from falling
Wild waters on a stony shore?
Oh, what is this new troubling tide
Of eager waves that pour
Around and over, leaping, parting, recalling?…
How near I moved (as day to same day wore)
And silently, beside the sea!
poem by John Freeman
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Cant Run But
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
A cooling system
Burns out in the ukraine
Trees and umbrellas
Protect us from the new rain
Armies of engineers
To analyze the soil
The food we contemplate
The water that we boil
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
Oo-we oo-we
I had a dream about us
In the bottles and the bones of the night
I felt a pain in my shoulder blade
Like a pencil point? a love bite?
A couple was rubbing against us
Rubbing and doing that new dance
The man was wearing a jacket and jeans
The woman was laughing in advance
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
A winding river
Gets wound around a heart. pull it
Tighter and tighter
Until the muddy waters part
Down by the river bank
A blues band arrives
The music suffers
The music business thrives
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
I cant run but
I can walk much faster than this
Cant run but
Oo-we oo-we
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bedside Manner
Standing by your bed,
I watch you read the dreams,
Dreams I’ve wished and bled.
And I wonder how you live,
Holding thought within your head.
Daring to travel roads,
Down paths I fear to tread.
Still I wait to watch you in motion,
While I can only stand by your bed.
Watching you read my dreams,
Dreams I’ve wished and bled.
And I wonder how I’ve lived,
Forever holding these thoughts within my head.
Scared to travel paths,
Roads you’ve built with stead.
How I wish to lay with you, upon that bed.
poem by David Harrison
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Judge Distance
It was impossible to judge distance,
They were professionals, but weird.
But a beard banged on, careers were few,
Never the angers, never the brains of fear.
Volunteering a badge we judged,
And we condemned the few who threw it.
Spears found in the head were taken,
And they abhorred the sheer slopes.
Forcing a mountain and valley
The judgement remained clear
And the steep slopes caused the morning.
The meandering path came to an abrupt hill
And veered into general happiness
After so much mistiness and longing.
poem by Naveed Akram
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No One Steps Twice On The River Of Life...
it is not the rage of this river.
when i was a child, as mother says,
i keep my finger inside my mouth
sucked by my throat, to keep hunger away
beside the bank of this river
i am the spectator
and the river believes in the magic
of my innocence
it flows always in a distant
affection,
it is not the rage of the river,
it is i, the grown up man who goes swimming
in the river and feel
the joys of its cool waters
always moving on towards
a destination
it is the swimming with a friend
and then
with a lover and then with a wife
and then my silence,
what we do not have we force to forget
it is the bathing in the river
the rinsing and the cleansing of the waters
it is not the rage of this river
and then we become too weak to be in this river
the river moves on and on
towards the deepest sea looking for the
opening
i wait by the bank of this river
many things have been missed
the more important ones
the one that gives the posterity of
my humanity
it is denied of me because of this river
that gives me nothing
all the while i was the leaf that fell off from
the tree
on the side of this river
and i floated because i have nothing to do
because i can do nothing about
the flow of the river
i become the dead leaf that the air
rides upon
tossed and bumped on boulders
till i sink
deep down the river
that i shall pass only once.
time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Knows There Are Ghosts
Golden fish of Hemingway
Sylvia Plath is lost in the mirror
This morning hides the war
We walk amidst dark corridors
She wrestles with aliens
They come out of closets
They peer with sullen eternity
She knows they are there
Roman legions march without dreams
Frozen like nightmares
My mountain is so steep
The quiet rain has morning fingers
The basement light is dim
My mother’s photo is true
My father was wounded in the war
These circles draw blood
Take that poster of Jim Morrison down
The hallway whispers
Something dead wants to make love to me
Why is the air so thick with confusion?
Don’t ask them if their there
They might answer
Is that a mouse I hear?
I wished I wouldn’t have read the exorcist
We must fight them
These creatures of a séance
Leave a night light on
Their icy fingers reach
Time is their end
She wakes up
What’s that?
She knows they are there
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Loudest Sound
Side by side in silence
They pass away the day
So comfortable, so habitual...
And so nothing left to say
Nothing left to say
Nothing left to say
Side by side in silence
His thoughts echo round
He looks up at the sky...
She looks down at the ground
Stares down at the ground
Stares down at the ground
Side by side in silence
They wish for different worlds
She dreams him as a boy...
And he loves her as a girl
Loves her as a girl...
And side by side in silence
Without a single word...
It's the loudest sound
It's the loudest sound...
It's the loudest sound i ever heard
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River and The Bank
I'm the river
I'm the bank too
There're times the
Bank revolts
Times when the
River overflows
Can't help...!
I struggle
And try reconcile
But when the river side of me flow
Into the sea
I'm an abandoned bank
And a lonely tear
Among the many tears
Flowing in the sea!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sustain You
So far away not knowing how to handle
The distance between
Avoiding situations that will show
That this is not the same
Try to see through my window
I can't but I will sustain you as long as I can bear
The thought of humbly keeping Silence is my answer
I will remain here
Quietly seething
As the crowd moves in roaring to carry me away
I've always kept this push from shoving
The edge closer now
It's true enough
I have nothing left to say
Try to see through my window
I can't but I will sustain you as long as I can bear
The thought of humbly keeping Silence is my answer
I will remain here
Quietly seething
As the crowd moves in roaring to carry me away
I can't
song performed by by Greenwheel from Soma Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Rambling or Mike Prunicki
The Roman Roads from A to B.
Straight as a die uphill and down
the perfect route for infantry.
Which they deployed from town to town.
Though practical, lacked interest
The hidden ways the natives used
presumably they found the best
to avoid the Roman abuse.
The conquerors who sought to rule
could not subdue the savage tribes.
Their Emperor another fool
subsequent history describes.
Who bit off more than he could chew
and in the end had to retreat
As foreign armies often do
before their conquest is complete.
The Roman Roads a legacy
a tribute to their building skills.
They left behind reluctantly
returning to the seven hills.
I still prefer the winding ways
connecting quiet country towns.
To roads than run straight always
ignoring all the ups and downs.
The modern roads and motorways
though suited to our modern haste.
For them I have no word of praise
Because I have the time to waste.
I travel on my own two feet
I take my time enjoy the view.
There is no dead line I must meet.
I do not envy those who do
.22-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Ceases to Flow
The course of river ceases to flow
As if smile has worn out and loss of glow
The course lay at standstill
River has lost its way and the will
The river bad has turned arid
As if everything is burnt by use of acid
No life is seen with even slight movement
Waiting for fresh waters to rush at any moment
I hear far cry from night birds
They made no noise was ever heard
The river has brought dead silence
I see it as unusual sign hence
It spells disaster for time to come
Not good sign and hence unwelcome
Not river bank but all streams may go dry
Birds will have to migrate and prepare for long journey to fly
I take it as nature’s curse
Entire blame must go to us of course
The river has altered course or deserted in between
Such situation has never been witnessed or seen
No green grass may grow
No fresh water may now flow
What to speak now of curve paths and falls?
It may be spelled as simple curse for all
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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In Silence
We talk in silence
We speak in exchanging breath
We argue in silence
We battle with our stare
We think in silence
We travel in our mind
We promise in silence
We create the secret better
We sing in silence
We smile in radiant melody
We enjoy in silence
We move with our body
We share in silence
We stay in each other arms
We love in silence
We grow the hope of warmth
We hate in silence
We shake in every fiber being
We pray in silence
We enchant the words in heart
We long in silence
We drown in loneliness
We break in silence
We flow soundless tears
We walk in silence
We tell our story in footprint
We listen in silence
We could hear numerous voices
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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