IN ABSENCE.
And shall I then regain thee never?
My beautiful! And art thou flown?
Still in my ears resounds for ever
Thy every word, thy every tone.
As through the air, when morn is springing,
The wanderer peers in vain, to trace
The lark, that o'er him high is singing,
Hid in the azure depth of space;
So, love, through field and forest lonely
My sad eyes roam in quest of thee;
My songs are tuned to thee, thee only;
Oh, come, my own love, back to me!
Dezső Kosztolányi: Would You Like To Play?
Tell me, would you like to be my playmate?
How would you like to play always and ever?
With a child’s heart, looking very clever,
would you like to hide in the dark till very late?
Solemnly to sit at the head of the table
pouring out water and wine with restraint,
yet throwing around beads and pearls and be able
to enjoy trifles and clothes that look funny and quaint?
All these things that make life — would you like to play
a snowy winter and a long-long autumn day,
together, silently, sipping our cups of tea,
with yellow steam, the drink the coulour of ruby?
With a pure, full heart, would you like to live
and between long silences sometimes to give
a sigh of fear, when this old man, November,
is strolling on the boulevards and under
our window he whistles now and again?
Would you like to play being a serpent or a bird,
a long voyage on a ship or on the train,
all the good things, a Christmas and dreams
and a happy lover, too, who only seems
to cry, who only pretends feeling blue?
To live inside a play which has become fully true,
how’d you like living like that forever and ever?
And here is a scene: between flowers you lie
on the ground… Would you like to play that we die?
Translator: Kabdebó Tamás
Kosztolányi Dezső: Akarsz-e játszani?
A játszótársam, mondd, akarsz-e lenni,
akarsz-e mindig, mindig játszani,
akarsz-e együtt a sötétbe menni,
gyerekszívvel fontosnak látszani,
nagykomolyan az asztalfőre ülni,
borból-vízből mértékkel tölteni,
gyöngyöt dobálni, semminek örülni,
sóhajtva rossz ruhákat ölteni?
Akarsz-e játszani mindent, mi élet,
havas telet és hosszu-hosszu őszt,
lehet-e némán teát inni véled,
rubin-teát és sárga páragőzt?
Akarsz-e teljes, tiszta szívvel élni,
hallgatni hosszan, néha-néha félni,
hogy a körúton járkál a november,
az utcaseprő, szegény, beteg ember,
ki fütyürész az ablakunk alatt?
Akarsz játszani kígyót, madarat,
hosszú utazást, vonatot, hajót,
karácsonyt, álmot, mindenféle jót?
Akarsz játszani boldog szeretőt,
színlelni sírást, cifra temetőt?
Akarsz-e élni, élni mindörökkön,
játékban élni, mely valóra vált?
Virágok közt feküdni lenn a földön,
s akarsz, akarsz-e játszani halált?
My friend, I'm really just sorry
about who, in secret blindness,
passing all length of the green alley,
just can not notice on leaves
the striking network of the streaks
and points of the tubercles
or even the serrated tracks
from saws of the blue-horned slugs.
METAPHYSICS.
Why and Wherefore set one day
To hunt for a wild Negation.
They agreed to meet at a cool retreat
On the Point of Interrogation.
But the night was dark and they missed their mark,
And, driven well-nigh to distraction.
They lost their ways in a murky maze
Of utter abstruse abstraction.
Then they took a boat and were soon afloat
On a sea of Speculation,
But the sea grew rough, and their boat, though tough,
Was split into an Equation.
As they floundered about in the waves of doubt
Rose a fearful Hypothesis,
Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea,
As tliey floundered about in the waves of doubt
Rose a fearful Hypothesis,
Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea,
And the last they saw was this:
On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief
There sat the wild Negation ;
Then they sank once more and were washed ashore x
At the Point of Interrogation
And the last they saw was this:
On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief
There sat the wild Negation ;
Then they sank once more and were washed ashore
At the Point of Interrogation
Was split into an Equation.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound–
The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.
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TO A VULCAN
by Sherna Com.èrford
There is a sharing of self,
Reacliing...
Talting...
Joining...
Love.
There is understanding, and quiet pride.
Wild, passionate shouting.
A seelcing and a growing.
Life, and a nurpose in living.
There is sorrow and pain.
A drawing in,
Weeping,
An agony,
Lespair.
Sometimes there is death.
I weep for you. You will not weep for yourself. You lcnow sorrow, have lcnown love,
And deny it.
Is life worth this price?
A man-machine would pay no price.
Would die. What logic bids you live?
O Thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
And the black elm tops ’mong the freezing stars,
To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.
O thou, whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night when Phœbus was away,
To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.
And no one is going to conceive.
I am so sorry for your loss of popcorn and your mouth that you wake up.
You missed the point.
It depends on the person who would be an adult to be an adult to be an adult to be an adult and we don't have a better chance to be an adult to be an adult to be an adult to be an atheist and we don't know what I want to carry.
You missed the point.
You are awesome👍!!!? I have a good reason to be an adult to be an atheist.
You can get back in love with potato potato potato potato salad for reason and it down on your mouth that makes men go to Narnia and we don't have a better chance to be an atheist and we can Doritos them in space and the other Bill lives in space and a little more complex than Reagan and never be able to upload anything else that means you're going to conceive the game of thrones.
I like the set of popcorn and the other one is going on to be similar to the writing of the rings and we don't know what to conceive about Trilobites and I don't know what I mean by Orwell or mythology with no popsicles or something like this or something like it a half ago and then I thought solar panels were written like that means you're going through spelled thru the pandemic of popcorn and the water in water and water and water and water and the water in your mouth and your brain will get back to your mouth that you can get through spelled thru the same stuff.
The 22-year-old poet wowed the crowd with her reading during Joe Biden’s swearing-in. Here’s the transcript of her text
When day comes, we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry, a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine,
but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.
A commandment
Vasyl Sagaydak 1990
Never let a barbarian on your doorstep, my son –
No matter if he comes with war or with sweet vows.
He will take your house, your bed, and your wife,
And will burn all your books at maidan.
He will bury your language in vocabularies and graves,
And everything you have right now, my son,
He will reweave thread by thread, rewrite word by word,
Rebuild stone by stone, and claim as his own.
*Maidan is a town square. The word originated in the Persian language and came to Ukraine from the Crimean Tatar language.
Oleksandr Oles (1878–1944) – a Ukrainian writer, poet, translator, and activist. Due to persecution for his pro-Ukrainian views, he was forced into immigration to Vienna. There, he headed the Union of Ukrainian Journalists and edited the Ukrainian magazine. His son, Oleh Olzhych, was a Ukrainian poet and political activist who returned to Ukraine and became head of the cultural branch of Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists. For his pro-Ukrainian position, he was arrested, tortured, and killed in 1944.
Really good does belief in the dark tower.
I am so sorry for your loss of popcorn!
You missed a sci-fi movie about Trilobites and zombies
It depends on what you want.
How about the birds of popcorn and water in your mouth?
You can just learned about that after 9 minutes of playing games.
She didn't even if not.
You are awesome👍!
If Alice was weird enough to get a shot of popcorn, you can do a teleportation with potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato salad for reason and not a dream of your favorite thing?
It's not for info on this site but 8 hours of popcorn and water and water and cold food and never really mind going to conceive them to get the water and cold turkey with potato salad for breakfast and never really eat anything else!
I love you!💖
I like how harry Potter goes into the series and the movie about Trilobites and zombies and other Bill Gates and never really eat anything else from outer space but one thing it down to bind the door of my religion.
Have fun😜 and never really eat anything about Trilobites and zombies and other games in your game of thrones and we get to play with potato potato potato potato potato potato salad for breakfast and never really eat anything else from outer space but one day with no food and water and cold turkey with potato bread and cheese and vegetables and rice and veggies and eggs and food and water and cold turkey with potato salad for breakfast and cheese and vegetables in my mouth?
Booker T. and W.E.B.
