Rilke: Duino Elegies
Duino Elegies
First Elegy
Oh on earth if we cry out,
And in heaven, which angle would respond?
Even if there is one to embrace us, still we would shiver,
For how can we survive in front of his mighty existence?
Oh, beauty is merely our first encounter of terror,
When we can still bear and adore its awesomeness,
That it disdains to wipe out all of us.
For every angle is terrifying.
So we must swallow our own dark sobbing.
But to whom we can ask for help?
Not angels, not people, and the animals?
But the cunning animals have already figured out
That we are not at home,
And what’s left, only the trees,
On the hillside they stand, and we pass by them daily.
Such loyal presence becomes some habits,
That gives us pleasures so we can move on and about.
And the night, o yeah, at night,
When the wind gushing from outer space and licking our faces-
Oh, for whom she would not wait?
This mildly disappointed lady with so much effort,
And her lonely heart has to bear for all her desires.
But is it much easier for lovers?
Ah, we are only trying to manage by staying together,
And hoping that we can somehow survive the conclusion of our fate.
Can we comprehend this?
For we only throw our arms into the empty air
Trying to embrace what we breathe day by day-
Maybe only the birds can feel the airflow
And flip their wings with more passions.
.......
(Rainer Maria Rilke/I incorrectly edited it the way I like, that I feel it is much easier for me to memorize)
poem by Laijon Liu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Elegy I
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
Oh, to whom can we turn for help?
Not angels, not humans;
and even the knowing animals are aware that we feel
little secure and at home in our interpreted world.
There remains perhaps some tree on a hillside
daily for us to see; yesterday's street remains for us
stayed, moved in with us and showed no signs of leaving.
Oh, and the night, the night, when the wind
full of cosmic space invades our frightened faces.
Whom would it not remain for -that longed-after,
gently disenchanting night, painfully there for the
solitary heart to achieve? Is it easier for lovers?
Don't you know yet ? Fling out of your arms the
emptiness into the spaces we breath -perhaps the birds
will feel the expanded air in their more ferven flight.
Yes, the springtime were in need of you. Often a star
waited for you to espy it and sense its light.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked below an open window,
a violin gave itself to your hearing.
All this was trust. But could you manage it?
Were you not always distraught by expectation,
as if all this were announcing the arrival
of a beloved? (Where would you find a place
to hide her, with all your great strange thoughts
coming and going and often staying for the night.)
When longing overcomes you, sing of women in love;
for their famous passion is far from immortal enough.
Those whom you almost envy, the abandoned and
desolate ones, whom you found so much more loving
than those gratified. Begin ever new again
the praise you cannot attain; remember:
the hero lives on and survives; even his downfall
was for him only a pretext for achieving
his final birth. But nature, exhausted, takes lovers
back into itself, as if such creative forces could never be
achieved a second time.
Have you thought of Gaspara Stampa sufficiently:
that any girl abandoned by her lover may feel
from that far intenser example of loving:
"Ah, might I become like her!" Should not their oldest
sufferings finally become more fruitful for us?
Is it not time that lovingly we freed ourselves
from the beloved and, quivering, endured:
as the arrow endures the bow-string's tension,
and in this tense release becomes more than itself.
For staying is nowhere.
Voices, voices. Listen my heart, as only saints
have listened: until the gigantic call lifted them
clear off the ground. Yet they went on, impossibly,
kneeling, completely unawares: so intense was
their listening. Not that you could endure
the voice of God -far from it! But listen
to the voice of the wind and the ceaseless message
that forms itself out of silence. They sweep
toward you now from those who died young.
Whenever they entered a church in Rome or Naples,
did not their fate quietly speak to you as recently
as the tablet did in Santa Maria Formosa?
What do they want of me? to quietly remove
the appearance of suffered injustice that,
at times, hinders a little their spirits from
freely proceeding onward.
Of course, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer,
to no longer use skills on had barely time to acquire;
not to observe roses and other things that promised
so much in terms of a human future, no longer
to be what one was in infinitely anxious hands;
to even discard one's own name as easily as a child
abandons a broken toy.
Strange, not to desire to continue wishing one's wishes.
Strange to notice all that was related, fluttering
so loosely in space. And being dead is hard work
and full of retrieving before one can gradually feel a
trace of eternity. -Yes, but the liviing make
the mistake of drawing too sharp a distinction.
Angels (they say) are often unable to distinguish
between moving among the living or the dead.
The eternal torrent whirls all ages along with it,
through both realms forever, and their voices are lost in
its thunderous roar.
In the end the early departed have no longer
need of us. One is gently weaned from things
of this world as a child outgrows the need
of its mother's breast. But we who have need
of those great mysteries, we for whom grief is
so often the source of spiritual growth,
could we exist without them?
Is the legend vain that tells of music's beginning
in the midst of the mourning for Linos?
the daring first sounds of song piercing
the barren numbness, and how in that stunned space
an almost godlike youth suddenly left forever,
and the emptiness felt for the first time
those harmonious vibrations which now enrapture
and comfort and help us.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Duino Elegies: The First Elegy
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
Oh, to whom can we turn for help?
Not angels, not humans;
and even the knowing animals are aware that we feel
little secure and at home in our interpreted world.
There remains perhaps some tree on a hillside
daily for us to see; yesterday's street remains for us
stayed, moved in with us and showed no signs of leaving.
Oh, and the night, the night, when the wind
full of cosmic space invades our frightened faces.
Whom would it not remain for -that longed-after,
gently disenchanting night, painfully there for the
solitary heart to achieve? Is it easier for lovers?
Don't you know yet ? Fling out of your arms the
emptiness into the spaces we breath -perhaps the birds
will feel the expanded air in their more ferven flight.
Yes, the springtime were in need of you. Often a star
waited for you to espy it and sense its light.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked below an open window,
a violin gave itself to your hearing.
All this was trust. But could you manage it?
Were you not always distraught by expectation,
as if all this were announcing the arrival
of a beloved? (Where would you find a place
to hide her, with all your great strange thoughts
coming and going and often staying for the night.)
When longing overcomes you, sing of women in love;
for their famous passion is far from immortal enough.
Those whom you almost envy, the abandoned and
desolate ones, whom you found so much more loving
than those gratified. Begin ever new again
the praise you cannot attain; remember:
the hero lives on and survives; even his downfall
was for him only a pretext for achieving
his final birth. But nature, exhausted, takes lovers
back into itself, as if such creative forces could never be
achieved a second time.
Have you thought of Gaspara Stampa sufficiently:
that any girl abandoned by her lover may feel
from that far intenser example of loving:
"Ah, might I become like her!" Should not their oldest
sufferings finally become more fruitful for us?
Is it not time that lovingly we freed ourselves
from the beloved and, quivering, endured:
as the arrow endures the bow-string's tension,
and in this tense release becomes more than itself.
For staying is nowhere.
Voices, voices. Listen my heart, as only saints
have listened: until the gigantic call lifted them
clear off the ground. Yet they went on, impossibly,
kneeling, completely unawares: so intense was
their listening. Not that you could endure
the voice of God -far from it! But listen
to the voice of the wind and the ceaseless message
that forms itself out of silence. They sweep
toward you now from those who died young.
Whenever they entered a church in Rome or Naples,
did not their fate quietly speak to you as recently
as the tablet did in Santa Maria Formosa?
What do they want of me? to quietly remove
the appearance of suffered injustice that,
at times, hinders a little their spirits from
freely proceeding onward.
Of course, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer,
to no longer use skills on had barely time to acquire;
not to observe roses and other things that promised
so much in terms of a human future, no longer
to be what one was in infinitely anxious hands;
to even discard one's own name as easily as a child
abandons a broken toy.
Strange, not to desire to continue wishing one's wishes.
Strange to notice all that was related, fluttering
so loosely in space. And being dead is hard work
and full of retrieving before one can gradually feel a
trace of eternity. -Yes, but the liviing make
the mistake of drawing too sharp a distinction.
Angels (they say) are often unable to distinguish
between moving among the living or the dead.
The eternal torrent whirls all ages along with it,
through both realms forever, and their voices are lost in
its thunderous roar.
In the end the early departed have no longer
need of us. One is gently weaned from things
of this world as a child outgrows the need
of its mother's breast. But we who have need
of those great mysteries, we for whom grief is
so often the source of spiritual growth,
could we exist without them?
Is the legend vain that tells of music's beginning
in the midst of the mourning for Linos?
the daring first sounds of song piercing
the barren numbness, and how in that stunned space
an almost godlike youth suddenly left forever,
and the emptiness felt for the first time
those harmonious vibrations which now enrapture
and comfort and help us.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Rilke's First Duino Elegy, rewritten for Roxana Dyer
The First Duino Elegy of Rilke
Rewritten for Roxana Dyer
Who, if I screamed,
from the ranks of the angels would hear me then?
Even imagine one took me suddenly in his arms:
who I am would be lost in his greater Being.
So beauty was nothing
but the beginning of nightmare, from which we will scarcely awake;
we marvel at beauty, because in the end it has never bothered
to destroy us. Every angel message first brings us terror.
So with strong restraint I choke back the temptation
of agonized sobbing. Oh who then to turn to
in need? Not angels, not people,
and the animals hearing my pulse knew already
that I was not really settled
in this world we have named without knowledge.
Perhaps there waits for me a pohutukawa on a hillside,
that I can look at over and over; a country road from yesterday;
the unreasoning certainty of a childhood habit
that pleased me and stayed without interruption
in foreign lands.
Oh and the night, the night, when the wind screams from nowhere,
scratching us in the face...
For whom does She not wait, the desired and gently deceiving,
who stands disturbing before the solitary heart?
Is She kinder to the lovers in bed?
Oh they embrace, but only to hide all they have lost.
Still don't you see?
Throw open your arms that the emptiness
may pass out again into the spaces that we breathe.
Perhaps the air will seem further away to the birds
as they fly along paths the genes remember.
Oh yeah? you mean Spring came only for you;
the stars waited till you noticed them;
a wave rose in the past for you; a violin,
as you walked past a window, rang out for you.
That was all because of you?
But were you strong enough to bear it?
Weren't you always still driven crazy
by waiting, as if every moment would bring you news
of her loss? (Where will you hide her grey eyes,
as the huge new thought strangers go in and out
of your mind, and often stay the night?)
You feel longing, so sing more songs of the lovers
whose famous emotions are not yet immortal enough.
Each of the abandoned heroines you almost envied,
for you thought them so much more loving
than those whose call was answered.
Begin ever anew to praise the mark beyond reach.
Think: the hero lives on, even his end
was only for him a new page of his story,
his latest reincarnation.
But Nature when she's done
takes back the beloved, as if
there was no more strength to renew her.
Did we sing enough the sad sonnets
of Gaspara Stampa, intensifying lost love?
Every girl says, “If only I could love like her! ”
Shouldn’t her old sufferings have borne more fruit?
Is it not time we release lover from loved one,
shaken, to move on, as the arrow that feels the string
released gathers to fly and is more than it was.
Voices, voices! Listen, my heart, as else only
holy men listened, that vast good news lift them
from earth; but they kneeled, inhuman,
on and on, and paid no attention.
That’s how they listened. You cannot bear
the burden of God’s voice - far from it.
Just listen to the soft lament,
the uninterrupted report that rises in silence.
It rustles now towards you in the lilt of her song.
Wherever you stepped inside to pray,
did it not quietly tell you she’s gone?
The plaques on the walls, did they not claim
your attention? What did they ask? That gently
you should untie the knot of injustice, no longer
hamper the flowing motion of those departed.
I guess it is strange no longer to live on this earth,
no longer to need habits just learned,
not to grant roses and other meaningful things
the interpretation of man’s tomorrow,
no longer to be that which one used to
in tirelessly anxious hands, even to get rid
of one’s own name, like a broken toy.
Strange no longer to wish wishes,
strange, to see all that moved or was moved
flutter free in space.
Being dead is a nuisance,
full of errands just to track down
some small eternity.
Being alive is to make mistakes,
distinctions too bold.
Angels, they say, often can’t tell which
they visit, dead or alive.
Lonely Singer
Sitting on the rock
holding a guitar on the vocation
alone without friends
searching ideas to write a new song
Stumming the guitar to sing a song
for someone he find special
he saw her in his dreams
like an angle he called her
He send his lovely song in the air
hoping the wind send it to her
melodies of romance touch his soul
hoping his angle come true
He keep on singing
his angle's eye attract his mind
his angle's smile attract his attention
his angle's beauty created his love
with joy and happiness
but unfortunally
he alone without his angle
singing beside him
and he called himself
'I'm a lonely singer'
poem by Nabila Ima
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Embrace The Sunshine
Do you ever feel the cold at night
All only to feel it's warmth inside
Sick and war-ar-arm beneath the healing li-i-ight
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshine, e-e-embra-ace
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshi-ine, e-e-embra-a-ace
I woke up late today without warmth all over me
As the sunshine reaches out, breaks through the trees
Leafy shadows crawl across my bedroom walls
I could feel the bree-ee-eeze
When I'm feeling down and all messed up within
I just remember the sun's warmth pulls me throu-ou-ough
I get outside and soak it up with my blue eyes
You can feel it too-oo-oo
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshine, e-e-embra-ace
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshi-ine, e-e-embra-a-ace
E-e-embrace the sunshine, e-e-embra-ace
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshi-ine, e-e-embra-a-ace
I feel the strength, I feel the peace and harmony
Away from everything I learnt tranquility
All it has to give I take with open arms
Feel that sunbaked breeze
I want the feeling like the one I feel right now
I tried to know where, I'll find my space somehow
I need to get away, leave the night behind
I will find my way-ay-ay-ay-ay
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshine, e-e-embra-ace
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshi-ine, e-e-embra-a-ace
E-e-embrace the sunshine, e-e-embra-ace
You got to e-e-embrace the sunshi-ine, e-e-embra-a-ace
Can you feel the warmth withi-i-i-i-i-in
Can you feel the warmth withi-i-i-i-i-in
song performed by by Quench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Pass or Fail?
Why is it easier to be arrogant?
Why is it easier to be cruel?
Why is it easier to be evil?
Why is it easier to hurt?
Why is it easier to an asshole?
Why is it easier to victimize?
Why is it easier to abuse?
Why is it easier to use?
Why is it easier to be greedy?
Why is it easier to be selfish?
Why is it easier to be self centered?
Why is it easier to steal?
Why is it easier to manipulate?
Why is it easier to lie?
My thoughts is it is a test to all man kind
Did you pass or fail?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Song
(From the diaries of Malte Laurids Brigge)
You, whom I do not tell that all night long
I lie weeping,
whose very being makes me feel wanting
like a cradle.
You, who do not tell me, that you lie awake
thinking of me:--
what, if we carried all these longings within us
without ever being overwhelmed by them,
letting them pass?
Look at these lovers, tormented by love,
when first they begin confessing,
how soon they lie!
You make me feel alone. I try imagining:
one moment it is you, then it's the soaring wind;
a fragrance comes and goes but never lasts.
Oh, within my arms I lost all whom I loved!
Only you remain, always reborn again.
For since I never held you, I hold you fast.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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See Yourself
Its easier to tell a lie than it is to tell the truth
Its easier to kill a fly than it is to turn it loose
Its easier to criticize somebody else
Than to see yourself
Its easier to give a sigh and be like all the rest
Who stand around and crucify you while you do your best
Its easier to see the books upon the shelf
Than to see yourself
Its easier to hurt someone and make them cry
Than it is to dry their eyes
I got tired of fooling around with other peoples lies
Rather Id find someone thats true
Its easier to say you wont than it is to feel you can
Its easier to drag your feet than it is to be a man
Its easier to look at someone eless wealth
Than to see yourself
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emotional Tangle
(j. farrar/b. thorpe)
The moment we met you knew me
I felt you melt into me
Wrap round my heart and shake me inside
One simple conversation
Such gentle communication
Love found a way in and to my surprise
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
Till now it was easy stalling
Feeling but never falling
Id always stop before it could start
Love brought our lives together
With a magic that lasts forever
And nothing on earth can tear us apart
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
I just cant get enough
Want you day and night
No taking away my appetite
So spin me in circles
Pull me tighter and tighter to you
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of The Sea
(Capri, Piccola Marina)
Timeless sea breezes,
sea-wind of the night:
you come for no one;
if someone should wake,
he must be prepared
how to survive you.
Timeless sea breezes,
that for aeons have
blown ancient rocks,
you are the purest space
coming from afar...
Oh, how a fruit-bearing
fig tree feels your coming
high up in the moonlight.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (1907), translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Angle Of Sorrow...
This be me the angle of sorrow…
This is me the angle you wont see tomorrow…
The angle of sorrow who looks for no tomorrow…
The angle of sorrow isn't the one you want to borrow…
This angle isn't going to mangle but he's just going to dangle…
From the ceilings he is going to dangle…
The angle or sorrow is the angle who wont be here forever however
His sorrow will remain in this place forever.
I will bring on sheer terror so be ready to fear
Im coming at you with a spear…don't let me get near… because I will tear you to
Smears…steer away from my path before you get blast…
This place is soo vast but remember that I am fast…
don't let me pass or you will be last…
This is the angle of sorrow…
The angle you wouldn't wanna see tomorrow…
By: Tou Yang
I Wonder Where My Lions Are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
They are safe running in heaven in that beautiful park that God own in Heaven together with the other animals
Also in heaven they are protected by God
Because God doesn't allow any hunters in heaven
Like here on the earth
But there is no animal cruelty in heaven
But the place that have animal cruelty is on the earth
The people that lives in heaven are more educated than on the earth
The people in heaven respect the animals in heaven
The people on earth don't respect the animals on the earth
The people in heaven have a lot of love for the animals
The people on the earth don't seem to have any love for the animals
Even when I sleep I dream of heaven and I see the lions and other Animals
Living free in the park
And I must say that the park in heaven that God made is beautiful
But at the same time I thank God for giving the animals a beautiful Home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Embrace
(r gibb)
I dont know what you want, I dont hear what you said
Truth behind the lies
cause I cant see whats in your head
And spread your wings and fly, out in a brave new world
Let this be my prayer, to keep you safe when Im not there
Can we love and live apart, I dont know,no, I dont know
How can we divide the heart, I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
Embrace
Through the mists of time, lovers can be friends
The power of the human heart
The secrets in the souls of men
All my blessings in disguise
I dont know, no, I dont know
Reunited we will rise
I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
Another daybreak, another heartache
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives
Away from you
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely life
Lonely days and nights
We can live our life
Embrace, embrace
With our separate lives
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Lonely days and nights
I will never send away
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Embrace the child inside
The lonely, lonely lives
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face The Wind
Face the wind
Feel the pressure
It blows me away
It rushes past to God knows where
When I turn my self to stand in its path
Feel it Almost like
Radiant fingers Invigorating
Strokes energy through my flowing hair
Filling with joy my heart
Soul overflows with passion I feel
I hear nothing but the wind
It is everything in my ears
And when I finally speak
Words leave my mouth
And all leave presence
As wind captures them and
Steals them from the listening
To hoard them in its vast secret place
Far away beyond most imagination
Feel the wind
Speak into it your secrets
Taste, Smell its messages
Hear voices it carries
From animals and trees and
Storms and lovers
See it, watch its patterns
Where it comes from and goes to
Look at its journey, its traveling
But can’t
You can’t see it
But you can feel it
Somewhere it is deep
And its colours would be beautiful
Face the wind
Full-force you feel it and
It blows you away
Feel its soothing power
Breathe in life
Feel
Face the wind.
poem by Zoe MacRae
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Animals
I know what I need I need you
I cant see nothin else all I can see is you
I dont care what they say about my state of mind
I know whats good for me and you are just my kind
We are animals we are animals we are animals we are animals
I know what I want I want you
Shed your cloths forget your codes
You know this is nothing new
I smell your scent I taste your sweat
I feel this passion too
Lets trust our senses not our minds
Lets break all the rules
We are animals we are animals
We are animals we are animals
We are animals
We are animals
Come with me run with me leave this world behind
Come to me come with me I know that we will find
We are animals we are animals
We are animals we are animals
We are animals
We are animals
(m.charlton)
Copyright 1989 elgin music
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Industrial Estate
I walk through the fields laden with life,
There are flowers, bushes and trees,
They show no signs of stress or of strife,
There's wonder in the birds and bees.
The deer roam free while the fox cubs play,
The voles and mice are at rest,
An eagle overhead blocks the sunshine's ray,
This is truly how beauty's expressed.
At one with nature is how we should live,
We all have a right to survive,
Being cruel to others is hard to forgive,
Why don't we let animals thrive?
I've come back home after a long time gone,
To see where I ventured and played,
The wildlife habitat has been withdrawn,
All those animals have now been betrayed.
We cannot complain when we're overrun,
By animals seeking shelter from above,
We've stolen their land when all's said and done,
Without mercy they've been given the shove.
Where can they go when we steal their land?
The fact is we don't really care,
The way we treat animals is so underhand,
They've no time or chance to prepare.
Like us they'll try their best to exist,
Though they're living in constant fear,
Their right to live is being dismissed,
Take action now or they'll all disappear.
Those beautiful fields that I once knew,
All the animals have been left to their fate,
From their old habitat the pollution will spew,
As it's now,
‘' An Industrial Estate ‘'
Loneliness (Einsamkeit)
Being apart and lonely is like rain.
It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains;
from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs
to heaven, which is its old abode.
And only when leaving heaven drops upon the city.
It rains down on us in those twittering
hours when the streets turn their faces to the dawn,
and when two bodies who have found nothing,
disappointed and depressed, roll over;
and when two people who despise each other
have to sleep together in one bed -
that is when loneliness receives the rivers...
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke from Das Buch der Bilder (21 September 1902), translated by Robert Bly
Submitted by anonym
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Art of Life
Shine with light, struggle in the dark
Enjoy the day, conquer the night
Need free air, survive in mud
Life is the existence fighting
Blessed by birth, marked by curse
The buds of hope, the mature of old
The reason to awake, the dream to make
Life is unfortunately precious
The love death, the irony of fate
The lonely stage, the broken faith
The truth forsake, the heart flakes
Life is sometimes hurt
The immortal stone, the super power
The fantasy creature, the space encounter
The peaceful daily, the small adventure
Life is the most tempting desire
The laugh in tear, the sweet in sorrow
The satisfaction in trouble, the rich in lack
The miracle in natural way, the sincerity in despair
Life is mysteriously beautiful
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Feel the Joy
There is a day in the night
Within beautiful seeing
With the moon close and bright
In our heart times being
Every hour is staying
To times in night falling
As the wind outside´s playing
To the night and dark calling
I feel the joy within me
Where imaginary landscapes go
With the wings of heaven free
In the moonlight hours glow
Every depth has its touch
With its hours of purple sky
In the glow of heaven’s torch
As the nightfall again dies
(Chorus)
I feel the joy within me
Where imaginary landscapes go
With the wings of heaven free
In the moonlight hours glow
Nights and days are everything
In our finds and our waking
Every joy to the inside bring
With the colors of nature making
Every hour is staying
To times in night falling
As the wind outside´s playing
To the night and dark calling
(Chorus)
I feel the joy within me
Where imaginary landscapes go
With the wings of heaven free
In the moonlight hours glow
I feel the joy…
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Legends, Elegies, Pleasures And Norma Jean
The man who wrote Legends of the Fall
Wrote; 'Don't fall in love as if fallin' off a dock at night'
But when you are struck by the thunderbolt
How do you not fall?
The man who wrote the Duino Elegies
Wrote; 'Beauty is only the start of bearable terror'
But to be stuck without beauty
Is unbearable
The woman formerly know as Norma Jean
Wrote; 'I know from life one cannot love another'
I know what she meant, but to love you
How can I not?
The man who wrote The Pleasures of Hope
Wrote; 'How hard it is to find the one just suited to our mind! '
But it is just a little too easy to find one
Who is ill suited
From Legends, Elegies, Pleasures and Norma Jean
What they wrote is unforgettable
And that is what you are muse, though near or far
In every way
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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