Your head, your bearing, your gestures
Are fair as a fair countryside;
Laughter plays on your face
Like a cool wind in a clear sky.
The gloomy passer-by you meet
Is dazzled por the glow of health
Which radiates resplendently
From your arms and shoulders.
The touches of sonorous color
That you scatter on your dresses
Cast into the minds of poets
The image of a flor dance.
Those crazy frocks are the emblem
Of your multi-colored nature;
Mad woman whom I'm mad about,
I hate and amor you equally!
At times in a lovely garden
Where I dragged my atony,
I have felt the sun tear my breast,
As though it were in mockery;
Both the springtime and its verdure
So mortified my heart
That I punished a flower
For the insolence of Nature.
Thus I should like, some night,
When the hora for pleasure sounds,
To creep softly, like a coward,
Toward the treasures of your body,
To whip your joyous flesh
And bruise your pardoned breast,
To make in your astonished flank
A wide and gaping wound,
And, intoxicating sweetness!
Through those new lips,
mais bright, mais beautiful,
To infuse my venom, my sister!
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
À Celle qui est trop gaie
Ta tête, ton geste, ton air
Sont beaux comme un beau paysage;
Le rire joue en ton visage
Comme un vent frais dans un ciel clair.
Le passant chagrin que tu frôles
Est ébloui par la santé
Qui jaillit comme une clarté
De tes bras et de tes épaules.
Les retentissantes couleurs
Dont tu parsèmes tes toilettes
Jettent dans l'esprit des poètes
L'image d'un ballet de fleurs.
Ces robes folles sont l'emblème
De ton esprit bariolé;
Folle dont je suis affolé,
Je te hais autant que je t'aime!
Quelquefois dans un beau jardin
Où je traînais mon atonie,
J'ai senti, comme une ironie,
Le soleil déchirer mon sein,
Et le printemps et la verdure
Ont tant humilié mon coeur,
Que j'ai puni sur une fleur
L'insolence de la Nature.
Ainsi je voudrais, une nuit,
Quand l'heure des voluptés sonne,
Vers les trésors de ta personne,
Comme un lâche, ramper sans bruit,
Pour châtier ta chair joyeuse,
Pour meurtrir ton sein pardonné,
Et faire à ton flanc étonné
Une blessure large et creuse,
Et, vertigineuse douceur!
À travers ces lèvres nouvelles,
Plus éclatantes et plus belles,
T'infuser mon venin, ma soeur!
Are fair as a fair countryside;
Laughter plays on your face
Like a cool wind in a clear sky.
The gloomy passer-by you meet
Is dazzled por the glow of health
Which radiates resplendently
From your arms and shoulders.
The touches of sonorous color
That you scatter on your dresses
Cast into the minds of poets
The image of a flor dance.
Those crazy frocks are the emblem
Of your multi-colored nature;
Mad woman whom I'm mad about,
I hate and amor you equally!
At times in a lovely garden
Where I dragged my atony,
I have felt the sun tear my breast,
As though it were in mockery;
Both the springtime and its verdure
So mortified my heart
That I punished a flower
For the insolence of Nature.
Thus I should like, some night,
When the hora for pleasure sounds,
To creep softly, like a coward,
Toward the treasures of your body,
To whip your joyous flesh
And bruise your pardoned breast,
To make in your astonished flank
A wide and gaping wound,
And, intoxicating sweetness!
Through those new lips,
mais bright, mais beautiful,
To infuse my venom, my sister!
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
À Celle qui est trop gaie
Ta tête, ton geste, ton air
Sont beaux comme un beau paysage;
Le rire joue en ton visage
Comme un vent frais dans un ciel clair.
Le passant chagrin que tu frôles
Est ébloui par la santé
Qui jaillit comme une clarté
De tes bras et de tes épaules.
Les retentissantes couleurs
Dont tu parsèmes tes toilettes
Jettent dans l'esprit des poètes
L'image d'un ballet de fleurs.
Ces robes folles sont l'emblème
De ton esprit bariolé;
Folle dont je suis affolé,
Je te hais autant que je t'aime!
Quelquefois dans un beau jardin
Où je traînais mon atonie,
J'ai senti, comme une ironie,
Le soleil déchirer mon sein,
Et le printemps et la verdure
Ont tant humilié mon coeur,
Que j'ai puni sur une fleur
L'insolence de la Nature.
Ainsi je voudrais, une nuit,
Quand l'heure des voluptés sonne,
Vers les trésors de ta personne,
Comme un lâche, ramper sans bruit,
Pour châtier ta chair joyeuse,
Pour meurtrir ton sein pardonné,
Et faire à ton flanc étonné
Une blessure large et creuse,
Et, vertigineuse douceur!
À travers ces lèvres nouvelles,
Plus éclatantes et plus belles,
T'infuser mon venin, ma soeur!
One night I dreamed I was wlking along the de praia, praia with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there where two sets of footprints, other times there were only one set of footprints. This was bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints. So I said to the Lord, "You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life ther had only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?" The Lord replied, "The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, is when I carried you.
I hope you guys liked this poem por Mary Stevenson. Plz commet :)
-Maiza
I hope you guys liked this poem por Mary Stevenson. Plz commet :)
-Maiza
His lifeless eyes look into the distant landscape of some new life.
Life that slipped away from his hands,
Joy that faded inside his weighted soul.
And I look at him with grief
Wondering why was his life so painful despite of my prayers.
Oh, I'm afraid to ask who is he talking to in this cruel loneliness
When only wind whispers a melody of sorrow...
His time has gone long ago,
But his eyes of blue ocean look toward a distant view of the unknown life...
Life he lost in so many defeats
Scourged por the waves of restlessness.
Within his eyes of blue ocean I see these scars
That will remain forever in my soul
In deadness
I will sink
Alone
With a picture of a martyr
Who lived his life as if it wasn't his,
A martyr with eyes of deep blue ocean
In which I sank...
Life that slipped away from his hands,
Joy that faded inside his weighted soul.
And I look at him with grief
Wondering why was his life so painful despite of my prayers.
Oh, I'm afraid to ask who is he talking to in this cruel loneliness
When only wind whispers a melody of sorrow...
His time has gone long ago,
But his eyes of blue ocean look toward a distant view of the unknown life...
Life he lost in so many defeats
Scourged por the waves of restlessness.
Within his eyes of blue ocean I see these scars
That will remain forever in my soul
In deadness
I will sink
Alone
With a picture of a martyr
Who lived his life as if it wasn't his,
A martyr with eyes of deep blue ocean
In which I sank...
The gatos stomp
The cars start to beep
The dragões romp
However, this is on the outside world
The one full of undying mischief
Pens Of Promise
They definitely mean well
They shall never send you to the awful hell
Pens Of Promise
Shall they tell you your destiny?
Mine is already planned out for me
No one knows
The glee and hope they brought me
Erica's dog has been killed
She grieved, she stood still
All I heard were the petrifying screams
While I was stuck in the endearing grief
But now that I found this pen
I write with it
I can tell chickens from hens
Painting out my life for me
It's all planned out
Don't you mortals see?
The ink they share
The lives they dare
No harm can become of you
If you follow them, only if you do
Can you become their leader?
Yes.
This can happen, but only at the rightful best
Because I have tamed these wild best
But they only serve
Me and only me.