A steady glow of gold
Mar. 9th, 2004 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kohakuFinally, I have the transcripts to my audio!poems ready for posting.
Erich Fried
Lots of Things
Lots of things
Can be laughable
Such as
Kissing my phone
When I have heard
Your voice in it.
Not to kiss my phone
When I cannot kiss you
Would be
Still more laughable
And sadder
Taken from: 101 Poems to keep you sane, Edited by Daisy Goodwin.
*********
Dylan Thomas
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
First stanza only, Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Anon.
From the Navajo
In Beauty May I Walk
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully will I possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
living again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Emily Dickinson
Like Rain It Sounded Till It Curved
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new 'twas Wind-
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand-
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road-
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad-
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Carol Ann Duffy
In Your Mind
The other country, is it anticipated or half-remembered?
Its language is muffled by the rain which falls all afternoon
one autumn in England, and in your mind
You out aside your work and head for the airport
with a credit card and a warm coat you will leave
on the plane. The past fades like newsprint in the sun.
You know people there. Their faces are photographs
on the wrong side of your eyes. A beautiful boy
In the bar on the harbour serves you a drink - what? -
asks you if men could possibly land on the moon.
A moon like an orange drawn by a child. No.
Never. You watch it peel itself into the sea.
Sleep. Tha rasp of carpentry wakes you. On the wall,
a painting lost for thirty years renders the room yours.
Of course. You go to your job, right at the old hotel, left,
then left again. You love this job. Apt sounds
mark the passing of the hours. Seagulls. Bells. A flute
practising scales. You swap a coin for a fish on the way home.
Then suddenly you are lost but not lost, dawdling
on the blue bridge, watching six swans vanish
under your feet. The certainity of place turn on the lights
all over town, turns up the scent in the air. For a moment
you are there, in the other country, knowing its name.
And then a desk. A newspaper. A window. English rain.
Taken from: Emergency Kit - Poems for Strange Times, edited by Jo Shapcott and Matthew Sweeney.
*********
Michael Hulse
Loreley
Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
dass ich so traurig bin... though who could sit
by the cold river, watching the lights
of the opposite bank, St Goarshausen,
shake in the ferry's wake, then settle again
to a steady glow of gold
molten on the flow (und ruhig
fließt der Rhein), and not
know that this is the off-season
of love...? Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn: in
the corner the cook is drinking himself silly,
telling the boss and barman for
the third time this evening the story about
the Danzig whore. Presently they sing.
They seem to have made no preparations for winter,
but nothing will stoptheir noise, not even the silence,
not even the autumn's big and childless voids.
Taken from: Michael Hulse - Empires and Holy Lands, Poems 1976 - 2000
*********
Michael Hulse
To His Coy Mistress
With apologies to Marvell
Had we but world enough and time,
this coyness, lady, were no crime;
but as it is we'll soon be dead,
so cut the crap and come to bed.
Taken from: Michael Hulse - Empires and Holy Lands, Poems 1976 - 2000
*********
Erich Fried
Lots of Things
Lots of things
Can be laughable
Such as
Kissing my phone
When I have heard
Your voice in it.
Not to kiss my phone
When I cannot kiss you
Would be
Still more laughable
And sadder
Taken from: 101 Poems to keep you sane, Edited by Daisy Goodwin.
*********
Dylan Thomas
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
First stanza only, Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Anon.
From the Navajo
In Beauty May I Walk
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully will I possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
living again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Emily Dickinson
Like Rain It Sounded Till It Curved
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new 'twas Wind-
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand-
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road-
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad-
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
Taken from: The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes.
*********
Carol Ann Duffy
In Your Mind
The other country, is it anticipated or half-remembered?
Its language is muffled by the rain which falls all afternoon
one autumn in England, and in your mind
You out aside your work and head for the airport
with a credit card and a warm coat you will leave
on the plane. The past fades like newsprint in the sun.
You know people there. Their faces are photographs
on the wrong side of your eyes. A beautiful boy
In the bar on the harbour serves you a drink - what? -
asks you if men could possibly land on the moon.
A moon like an orange drawn by a child. No.
Never. You watch it peel itself into the sea.
Sleep. Tha rasp of carpentry wakes you. On the wall,
a painting lost for thirty years renders the room yours.
Of course. You go to your job, right at the old hotel, left,
then left again. You love this job. Apt sounds
mark the passing of the hours. Seagulls. Bells. A flute
practising scales. You swap a coin for a fish on the way home.
Then suddenly you are lost but not lost, dawdling
on the blue bridge, watching six swans vanish
under your feet. The certainity of place turn on the lights
all over town, turns up the scent in the air. For a moment
you are there, in the other country, knowing its name.
And then a desk. A newspaper. A window. English rain.
Taken from: Emergency Kit - Poems for Strange Times, edited by Jo Shapcott and Matthew Sweeney.
*********
Michael Hulse
Loreley
Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
dass ich so traurig bin... though who could sit
by the cold river, watching the lights
of the opposite bank, St Goarshausen,
shake in the ferry's wake, then settle again
to a steady glow of gold
molten on the flow (und ruhig
fließt der Rhein), and not
know that this is the off-season
of love...? Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn: in
the corner the cook is drinking himself silly,
telling the boss and barman for
the third time this evening the story about
the Danzig whore. Presently they sing.
They seem to have made no preparations for winter,
but nothing will stoptheir noise, not even the silence,
not even the autumn's big and childless voids.
Taken from: Michael Hulse - Empires and Holy Lands, Poems 1976 - 2000
*********
Michael Hulse
To His Coy Mistress
With apologies to Marvell
Had we but world enough and time,
this coyness, lady, were no crime;
but as it is we'll soon be dead,
so cut the crap and come to bed.
Taken from: Michael Hulse - Empires and Holy Lands, Poems 1976 - 2000
*********
