Yet more poetry
and other stuff
Disillusionment
Disillusionment,
this is the bitter end,
this proves you're rightly called
the end of illusion.
You've made me lose all,
yet no, losing all
in not paying too dear
for being undecieved.
No more will you envy
the allurements of love,
for one undecieved
has no risk left to run.
It is some consolation
to be expecting none:
there's relief to be found
in seeking no cure.
In loss itself
I find assuagement:
having lost the treasure,
I've nothing to fear.
Having nothing to lose
brings peace of mind:
one traveling without funds
need not fear thieves.
Liberty itself
for me is no boon:
if I hold it such,
it will soon be my bane.
No more worries for me
over boons so uncertain:
I will own my very soul
as if it were not mine.
~Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
She could do so much better than Gabby *wistful sigh*.
If You Could Come
My love, my love, if you could come once more
From your high place,
I would not question you for heavenly lore,
But, silent, take the comfort of your face.
I would not ask you if those golden spheres
In love rejoice,
If only our stained star hath sin and tears,
But fill my famished hearing with your voice.
One touch of you were worth a thousand creeds.
My wound is numb
Through toil-pressed, but all night long it bleeds
In aching dreams, and still you cannot come.
~Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (I think)
Welcome and Farewell
My heart beat fast, a horse! away!
Quicker than thought I am astride,
Earth now lulled by end of day,
Night hovering on the mountainside.
A robe of mist around him flung,
The oak a towering giant stood,
A hundred eyes of jet had sprung
From darkness in the bushy wood.
Atop a hill of cloud the moon
Shed piteous glimmers through the mist,
Softly the wind took flight, and soon
With horrible wings around me hissed.
Night made a thousand ghouls respire,
Of what I felt, a thousanth part-
My mind, what a consuming fire!
What a glow was in my heart!
You I saw, your look replied,
Your sweet felicity, my own
My heart was with you, at your side,
I breathed for you, for you alone.
A blush was there, as if your face
A rosy hue of Spring had caught,
For me- ye Gods!- this tenderness!
I hoped, and I deserved it not.
Yet soon the morning sun was there,
My heart, ah, shrank as leave I took:
How rapturous your kisses were,
What anguish then was in your look!
I left, you stood with downcast eyes,
In tears you saw me riding off:
Yet, to be loved, what happiness!
What happiness, ye gods, to love!
~Goethe (*dissolves into quivering heap*, that poem is yummy, exquisitely written, it captures love, and brings back a maelstrom of memories, Galen-dearling, you have lovely taste in poets)
Our lovely Doctor.
Some of these are neat and important.
