Related quotes: Through the branch net, all...

Through the branch net [Prin a ramurilor mreajă]

Through the branch net, all along,
One can hear a charming song
Fondling all the ears that lie
By the linden old and high...

Through the leaves, when dies the day,
Tries the moon to make its way,
It's so beautiful and bright
And sheds down its gleams of light.

Start the trumpets to sound soon;
As the disk of the sweet moon
Passes over glades and trees,
Trumpet notes flow with much ease.

The green woods will answer then
And my soul gets lost again,
Grieved, but also filled with grace,
When I think of your nice face.

And the birds will sing above
Showing all their care and love,
Chirping in the woods and thus
Laughing at or... pitying us.

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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I have one last caprice [Mai am un singur dor]

I have one last caprice
When evening falls on me
To let me die in peace
By the majestic sea.

To have a pleasant sleep,
The woods to be nearby,
Wherever I shall peep
To see the clear blue sky.

No banners at my head,
No coffin dear or suits,
But weave me a nice bed
Of green and tender shoots.

Don't wail with gloomy face
And gather all around,
The autumn with its grace
Will lay leaves on the ground.

And when I hear the tune
And feel the spring how stirs,
Above will glide the moon
Through branches and through firs.

The bell will gently quake
When wind is running free,
The linden tree will shake
Its branches over me.

And since I quit my quest
For I am stiff and cold
I'll cherish when I rest
My memories of old.

The morning stars will rise
From shadow with much ease,
They'll friendly light my eyes
And smile above the trees.

The sea will mourn and play
A music of its own...
But I'll be dust and clay,
Forgotten and alone.

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....

i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees

clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,

i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority

abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life

delet birds
add volume to chirping

it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping

the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Song Do You Sing…

What song do you sing?
When you see the sun
At noon,
Bright and fiery
Only to come at one
To meet the sunset.
What song do you sing?
When you look at the
Moon,
To go, bring mat
Only to come out with
Tears gushing out.
What song do you sing?
What song to sing
As the lock cling.
We used to lift
And dip our souls
In it’s bowels,
We’d with old farewells….
What song do you sing? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? (part 1)

What song do you sing?
What song to sing
For the birds is gone home
To be with the stars
As they croon.
Up they’re in the sky.
What song do you sing?
How do you start?
Do you gather scalpels,
To go knock it
Against the pears,
As elegy, for its peers.
What song do you sing?
How do you start?
Do you gather firewood’s
On your way home,
To go await the coming
Of the moon.
After the quick noon.
What song do you sing?
How do you start?
Do you make the rhythm,
As she smiles….
With the echoes of
Yonder, a thousand miles.
And I see my feelings
Wrapped by her arms,
To share songs.
What song did you sing for her?

Written by
Pickzone007
a.k.a De_Cruxifixion.

poem by Goodluck Etserefe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Diana

What are you looking for at night
When moon is shining in the springs
And where the birds in warble fight
Flapping enchanted their wings?

Can't you perceive this nice array
Of leaves that whisper in the glade
And kiss each other and they play
In the refreshing forest's shade?

And like in mirrors moving fast
You want to watch a funny game,
In waters that have come and passed,
While your big eyes remain the same?

The spring has filled the woods again
Reviving everything, in truth,
However, all your thoughts are vain,
Like Endymion's, that fair youth.

Why do you want to be alone
With the low voice of secret source?
To hear the leaves by the wind blown
And sleep on grass, dark green and coarse?

And from that light reaching the glade,
From the cold waves, from shadow's charms,
To rise a fairy, a dear maid,
With big blue eyes and naked arms?

Oh! Now the boughs are bent with care
By little arms, so snowy white,
By a sweet face with yellow hair
On a tall body, slim, upright.

A golden bow makes her complete
And going hunting with much grace
On the innumerable leaves
She barely left a tiny trace.

poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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The Green Woods Of Truagh

In the green woods of Truagh we met without fear,
Your kiss on my lips, and your voice in my ear,
Your tender arms about me, and your eyes glad and clear–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh the days go on wings,
On every brown branch a gladsome bird sings
And the fragrant amber blossom of the honey-suckle swings–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh the bracken stands high,
And wells of spring-water in deep hollows lie,
And the red deer is browsing in the cool shadows nigh–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh no sorrow dared stay,
The lark called me early at dawn o' the day,
And o'er my sleep at night pleasant dreams used to play–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh you wait till I come–
I left home and you for the stranger's far home,
To bring a hoard of yellow gold across the grey foam–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh–if God hears my prayer–
I shall reach you, O true love, my empty hands there,
For little of the yellow gold has fallen to my share–
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

In the green woods of Truagh–your heart on my own,
And your bright hair in ringlets across my cheek blown
Now where in all the wide, wide world, could greater bliss be known?
Ochón, the Green Woods of Truagh!

poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
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Dews make Grass and Leaves to Weep!

Neither I am Bruce lee,
I got only bruises fully,
I am not Tiger Woods,
Just fear to Tiger and woods,
I am not the Ronaldo who score
goal after goal,
Only I suffer a lot to achieve a goal,
I am not Jordan or Jackson,
Not even can sprint or jump,
Not I am Tagore or Gibran,
Not even like kayyam or Rumi,
Not my feelings or words can
make others feel,
Not I am Alexander,
the great,
Not That Chengez or Ghazni,
Nor that Ashoka the great, Still dogs and cats,
Trees and birds,
Sun and stars,
Moon and clouds,
Rainbows and flowers
Fruit trees love
me,
As they know how innocently I
love them,
Some day raining clouds may call
me,
the light in that lightning
may take me to my beloved!
Birds may sing farewell, flowers may say good bye,
The morning on which I will not be on earth,
At least, the morning dews make
grass and leaves to shed tears for
me!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Green Bowl

This little bowl is like a mossy pool
In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow
Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees;
A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,
Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song
And murmur of the never resting sea.
'T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup,
But coming Spring guided your eager hand
And round the edge you fashioned young green leaves,
A proper chalice made to hold the shy
And little flowers of the woods. And here
They will forget their sad uprooting, lost
In pleasure that this circle of bright leaves
Should be their setting; once more they will dream
They hear winds wandering through lofty trees
And see the sun smiling between the leaves.

poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Melodie

I woke up yesterday
Knowing I was lost and passed away
I felt my destiny were sad the rain
Going know her way
Theres sound of the melody
I got song you enchanted me
And the sound of your voice
Make my heart keep turn
To the music got to love that filled my mind
Melodie, youre my symphony
All the song to me
Youre my only
Melodie, youre my everything
Make me wanna sing
For you only
Oh, oh
(I see you love me)
The long and winding road
Is much shorter now that youre here with me
But when you lend my mind
Have an answer now love dont hold me
All the girls have bringhten now
And the darkness is lighter now
Is my mind I can hear
The band start to play
Hello tomorrow
Goodbye you today
Melodie, youre my symphony
All the song to me
Youre my only
Melodie, youre my everything
Make me wanna sing
For you only
Beautiful morning
Oh happy day
And you know theres music to my ears
Every word that you say
Melodie, youre my symphony
All the song to me
Youre my only
Melodie, youre my everything
Make me wanna sing
For you only
(fade out)

song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -6

I Want To Sing A Song

I want to sing a song
For long my wish on skies..
So high so far so sweet
So sweet my song so makes
And takes on notes me soar
Me soar to moon and stars
To stars and moon my notes

Happy going going
Going godly tuning
Tuning moving scaling
Scaling music tonic
Tonic songful soulful
Soulful spaceward tuneful
Harken, follow would you..

You sing you sing a song
A song so strong to gong
To gong in tune with mine
So mine and yours to sing
To sing the moon and stars
The stars and moon in tune
In tune with us so high

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sweet Love Song

i hurd a sweet love song
so sweet to my ears
so strong to my heart
i had to fine out where it was comming from
i let my heart lead me to the start of the song
i let my ears get lost in the melody
flowing with the notes
losing my breath with every beat
the sweet love song was getting louder to my ears
the sweet love song was getting stronger to my heart
getting closer to you
getting closer to your love
right by your side
i open my eyes and see your sweet face
still hearing your sweet love song
smiling at you
as you hear my sweet love song
smiling at you
as you fall in love with the beat of my heart....

poem by Sarah May
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Song About The Moon

If you want to write a song about the moon
Walk along the craters of the afternoon
When the shadows are deep
And the light is alien
And gravity leaps like a knife off the pavement
And you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then nah nah nah
Presto
Song about about the moon
If you want to write a song about the heart
Think about the moon before you start
Because the heart will howl
Like a dog in the moonlight
And the heart can explode
Like a pistol on a june night
So if you want to write a song about the heart
And its ever-longing for a counterpart
Write a song about the moon
The laughing boy
He laughed so hard
He fell down from his place
The laughing girl
She laughed so hard
The tears rolled down her face
Hey songwriter
If you want to write a song about
A face
Think about a photograph
That you really cant remember
But you cant erase
Wash your hands in dreams and lightning
Cut off your hair
And whatever is frightening
If you want to write a song
About a face
If you want to write a song about
The human race
Write a song about the moon
If you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then do it
Write a song about the moon

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Symphony

silence is a
blank sheet of paper

the notes come from
the birds

this early morning
i hear the most beautiful

song, a choir of birds
chirping, winds gently

blowing, hushes from
leaves, drums from my

footsteps, beatings of
my heart

whistles from my soul.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The lonely woods

In the lonely woods do I roam,
I get a good glimpse of everything,
when I walk through the lonely woods, and a sad song I sing.
I see a pretty bird's wing,
so beautiful, so shiny, like that of a silver ring.
I walk near a small stream,
and when I am tired, I stop near it, sleep and dream.
All around me is silence, there is no hatred and there is no violence.
this is what I like in the woods, the lonely woods,
so silent, so calm,
to me, the trees, and the animals, there is no harm,
this is the lonely woods.

poem by Savio Vogt
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While the woods were green

WHILE the woods were green,
'Oh I' she sang, 'my heart is new,
Leaping, longing, in my breast:
Let him come that loves me true,
Let him come that I love best,
I will tell him what I mean,
Now the wood-birds tell it too,
Now the woods are green.'

While the woods were bare,
'Oh I' she sighed, 'my heart is grey,
Shrinking, shivering, in my breast:
Love me, hate me, as they may,
None of them do I love best:
Let me be alone with care,
Now the wood-birds hide away,
Now the woods are bare.'

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Dreams

some words for you to hum along
the sound so sweet and soft to sing

the soul of dear, may wandering through
the sandal world of silent woods,
not listening to summer breeze
staring at blue old sky of us

never ask this wind to sing
I wonder what they're thinking of
just thinking of, passing of our life
still looking for thy long lost love

I will ask the moon above to say
to bring you love, a night and a day
and a touch so sweet and a true warm
fun, I wish so warm again...

poem by Thampi KEE
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The Dawn Chorus

Dawn is the time when darkness becomes light;
A time when darkness disappears from sight.
The ashen veil slowly fades away,
To reveal another brand new day.

Up in the trees, the little birds awake,
And a pretty chorus, they now do make.
There is no other music on earth, quite as sweet,
As their cheerful chorus of twitters and tweets.

To the birds' pretty chorus, I lend an ear,
And am filled inside with joy and cheer.
The little birds are so jolly when they sing;
I wonder if they know of the joy they bring?

It is a treat to hear the birds trilling in the trees;
The sound is carried to my ears, upon the breeze.
Their symphony is carried aloft to where I lay;
Such sweet music, no instrument can ever play.

I do not often wake that early in the morn;
To witness another new day being born.
It is a magical time of the day, I think,
But, I am often still having forty winks.

So, for me, to hear their music is very rare,
But, I consider it beautiful, beyond compare.
Maybe, I should make a date, and set my alarm,
So as, more often, by their songs, I am charmed.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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An April Day

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.

From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.

The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tide
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.

Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Earlier Poems : An April Day