In stead of keeping a regular journal or diary, I�ve taken to writing down things that I feel express something about me, be it poetry, quotes or extracts from books. This is a collection of written material that in some way has touched my soul through this pathway called life� I�m going to share it with you here, just as it is written down in my book, in the different languages (and I�m not going to translate any of it, either). In the index below I sometimes state reasons why things are included. If there are no reasons stated, it�s just because I like it! (Or I don�t want to tell you the reason..) c�,)
�When you are old and gray and full of sleep
and nodding by the fire, take down this book,
and slowly read, and dream of the soft look
your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.�
Utdrag fra �Barndom�
Berceuse
Amor Fati
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli - You never really appreciate childhood�s innocense until you�ve grown up, do you?
Natten
En hustavle
Diverse sitater
Med �tte roser - I think it�s cute!
Regnbuen
Diverse - These mean a lot to me�
Brenning - Great ocean rhythm, reminds me of a small island on the Norwegian West Coast
P� jorden et sted
Diverse sitater
Um � bera
Diverse sitater
Scorn not his simplicity - Reminds me so much of someone I know, and who I really admire
The road not taken - The everlasting torment of making choices�
�All day I hear�� - Back on my island�
Jeg er det dikt - The regretfulness of things never to come�
Kj�rligheten skal ogs� d�
She weeps over Rahoon - Reminds me of someone special�
Simples
A Poem For The Grieving
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
A White Rose
The Falling of the Leaves
A Poison Tree - A huge insight in human feelings and behaviour
The Sick Rose
Sitat
If
Alone - Need I say more?
Brown Penny
Evening Star - Reminds me of someone who is trying to open my eyes for the beauty of the stars rather than the moon. He has not yet succeeded though� You know who you are ;o)
When You are Old
Prayer Before Birth
This Morning
Ars Poetica
The False Friends
A Very Short Song - The story of my love-life�
Resume - If not for other reasons, then at least� Black humour
The Flaw In Paganism
Inscription for the Ceiling of a Bedroom - It is actually in the ceiling of my bedroom� And I read it every morning.
The More Loving One
The Wayfarer
�F�r hun kom, var det som om jeg sov, gjemt i m�rket. Men hun vekket meg, f�rte meg ut I lyset, spant alt til et ubrytelig nett omkring meg, knyttet livet til en knipling i mange glade farger. Hun ble straks en venn for meg, det menneske som sto meg n�rmest hele livet igjennom, det menneske som jeg forsto best og holdt mest av. Hennes �pne kj�rlighet til hele verden gjorde meg rik, styrket og v�pnet meg for det harde livet.�
Fra �Barndom� av Maksim Gorkij
Berceuse
Sov, sov lille mann.
Livet er en dr�m.
Over m�rke morildvann
seiler du mot nattens land�
Alle er alene.
B�lger nynner mot din b�t.
Livet er en dr�m.
Dyp er sj�en, salt og v�t
som av mange �ynes gr�t�
Alle er alene.
Natten er s� lang, s� lang.
Livet er en dr�m.
Synk i s�vnens myke fang �
dr�m at det blir dag en gang�
Alle er alene.
Bare synke, synke ned.
Livet er en dr�m.
Der i s�vnens sj� et sted
vil v�r uro finne fred�
Alle er alene.
Ensomt suser v�r planet.
Livet er en dr�m.
Intet vet vi, det vi vet
er at alt er ensomhet�
Alle er alene.
Dr�m, dr�m lille v�r.
Livet er en dr�m.
Hvor vi kom fra, hvor vi g�r �
er det ingen som forst�r.
Alle er alene.
Gro, gro lille fr�.
Livet er en dr�m.
M�rket mumler om v�r �:
Kanskje skal vi aldri d��
Alle er alene.
- Andr� Bjerke
Amor Fati
Ikke som en C�sar gjorde
skal du med et sverd bev�bne
deg mot verden, men med ordet:
Amor Fati � elsk din skjebne.
Denne formel skal du fatte
som din sterkeste befrier.
Du har valgt din sti i krattet.
Ikke skjel mot andre stier!
Ogs� smerten er din tjener.
Lammet, s�nderknust, elendig
ser du at den gjenforener
deg med det som er n�dvendig.
Ogs� fallet, ogs� sviket
hjelper deg som dine venner.
Dine nederlag er rike
gaver, lagt i dine hender.
Engang skal du, tilfredsstillet
av � bli din skjebne verdig,
vite: Dette har jeg villet.
Alt som skjer meg skjer rettferdig.
Si da, n�r din levegledes
gr�nne skog er gjennomvandret:
Intet vil jeg annerledes.
Intet �nsker jeg forandret.
- Andr� Bjerke
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli
Ingen kan hente frem
De dr�mmer som formet deg
De bilder som fylte sommernatten
Med gr�nn sol og gule slanger
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli
Ingen kan �pne d�rene
Til de rom du har forlatt
Du har lagt noe bak deg
Du har mistet noe du holdt av
Rom som var varme
Rom fulle av vann og blomstertapet
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli
Ingen kan ta deg med til dagene
Da klokken var et mysterium
Da du visste alt om angst og kj�rlighet
Ingen kan gi deg den kvelden
Da lek og latter fulgte deg inn i s�vnen
Det barn du var skal du aldri bli
Den du er skal du snart glemme
- Lars Saabye Christensen
Natten
Natten er til
ikke bare for glemselens ro.
Den er til for din tro
og din tankes flakkende ild.
Natten her
er ikke bare et stjernev�r.
Den er summen av livet og alt som er.
Ikke sov!
Natten er til for den som v�ker og ser.
Det er om natten at livet skaper
og allting skjer.
Men s�vnen er d�dens efteraper.
Morgenens luft er som b�lgeskum.
Dagen har varme � gledes ved.
Kvelden har fred.
Men bare natten har verdensrom!
- Andr� Bjerke
En Hustavle
Det er en lykke I livet
som ikke vendes til lede:
Det at du gleder en annen,
og det er den eneste glede.
Det er en sorg I livet
som ingen t�rer kan lette:
Det at det var for sent
da du skj�nte dette.
Ingen kan resten av livet
st� ved en grav og klage.
D�gnet har mange time.
�ret har mange dage.
- Arnulf �verland
Es ist sch�n zu leben,
weil leben anfangen ist,
immer, in jedem Augenblick.
- Cesare Pavese
Man sollte sich nicht
schlafen legen, ohne sagen
zu k�nnen, dass man an dem
Tage etwas gelernt h�tte.
- Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
Um alles
muss man alles wagen.
- Christoph Martin Wieland
Gl�cklich ist nicht,
wer anderen so vorkommt,
sondern wer sich selbst
daf�r h�lt.
- Seneca
Man weiβ nie, was daraus wird,
wenn die Dinge ver�ndert werden.
Aber weiβ man denn, was daraus wird,
wenn sie nicht ver�ndert werden?
- Elias Canetti
Wer eine Hintert�r in sein
Leben einbaut, gebraucht sie
eines Tages als Hauptportal.
- Hans Arndt
Es gibt nichts, woran man
besser erkennen kann,
ob man ganz Liebe hat,
als Vertrauen.
- Meister Eckhart
Med �tte roser
�tte roser vil jeg gi deg:
�n fordi du er s� pen.
�n for alle dr�mmer I deg.
(Lar du meg f� plass i �n?)
�n fordi du er en hulder.
�n fordi du er en �nd.
�n for trykket av din skulder.
�n for varmen av din h�nd.
�n for h�pet, �n for slottet
vi skal bygge: Det blir �tte
-
�tte roser som vil t�rste
efter � f� v�re nu
hos den niende og st�rste
ville rose � som er du.
- Andr� Bjerke
Regnbuen
Du sp�r meg, mitt barn, hva en regnbue er?
Nei, tenk, det er mer enn jeg vet.
De kloke forst�r det? � Det tror vel enhver,
men regnbuen kommer man aldri s� n�r
at man fanger dens hemmelighet.
Ja, vel er jeg klok som en visdommens bok
og kjenner all verden til fjerneste krok,
men helt uten hell har jeg s�kt � f� svar
p� hv regnbuen var.
� fange dens farver, - det pr�vet jeg vel
en gang f�r min barndom forsvant.
Jeg satt I en have en regnsommerkveld
og lekte I gresset en lek med meg selv,
- det gj�r jeg jo ennu iblant. -
All verden var v�t under himmelens gr�t,
og jeg var kaptein i en sm�rkasseb�t
som seilte omkring p� den sv�mmende jord
med all skapning om bord.
Jeg lekte at regnet som druknet min mark,
var virkelig syndeflodsregn,
og selv var jeg Noah i Noahs ark;
jeg satt som hin bibelske urpatriark
og ventet p� himmelens tegn.
Og tegnet det kom: Det var regnbuen som
sprang ut som en rose I vannenes flom
og hvelvet sin veldige solstengel opp
over Ararats topp!
Den var solmorgenr�d, den var sommernattsbl�,
den var som en lilje s� svai.
Hva kunne det v�re? Jeg tenkte som s�:
Den er vel den sl�yfen V�rherre tar p�
hver gang himlen har syttende mai�
� nei, jeg forstod: Det var saktens en bro
som Gud mellom jorden og stjernene slo
og lot den da selvsagt begynne sin vei
her i haven hos meg.
Men var den av gull, eller var den av glass
eller kanskje av solsilkeb�nd?
Og f�rte den opp I et himmelpalass
hvor Herren, han st�r p� sin syvstjerneplass
og �ser dens lys med sin h�nd?
Jeg fikk nok et svar hvis jeg bare var snar
og l�p og la h�nd p� den der hvor den var.
Du sp�r om jeg sprang? Ja, men luften ble tom
I det samme jeg kom!
Den var her i stad, - men s� l�p den sin vei?
Nei, stopp, - den var ennu � se
der rett bortved bekken. Jeg tenkte: � nei,
du narrer nok mange, men slett ikke meg,
s� satte jeg atter av sted
over gress, over grus, i en regnbuerus,
nu skulle jeg fange den, f� den i hus!
Det var en vidunderlig sommerkveldslek.
Men regnbuen vek�
Slikgikk det meg da. Og slik g�r det meg nu
p� min daglige regnbuejakt.
Den viker som f�r. Og jeg burde vel snu?
Nei, vit at det kan verken jeg eller du
n�r vi f�rst er i skj�nnhetens makt.
Jeg m� og jeg vil nok forf�lge dens ild
s� lenge det ennu er regnbuer til;
den leken vil vare til jeg ikke ser
noen sommerkveld mer.
Hva regnbuen er? Den er lengsel, min venn,
den er alt som vi ingen gang fikk.
Selv i syndeflodstider st�r h�pet igjen
s� lenge et lengselens regnbuespenn
kan hvelve seg fjernt for v�rt blikk,
det vi s�ker � n�, men aldri skal f�,
ti foran oss skal den bestandig st�
og v�re en bro mot den flimrende strand
i et fremtidens land -
- Andr� Bjerke
P� tistlene er det blomster og
tornene er dekket med roser.
Hun var som en rose,
- utrolig vakker.
Hun var som sola,
- gjorde oss glad.
Hun var som et barn,
- pinlig �rlig.
Hun var seg selv,
- fantastisk og herlig.
Few things are more attractive than
courage, cheerfulness and optimism.
But they take on an extra dimension
when you realise that they are not
a lucky assembly of character traits,
but the result of an act of will - a
deliberate attempt to tackle an
unkind destiny with strength of
purpose and good humour.
- Jane Shilling
Brenning
D�t er liv: � beruses
i timene korte og s�te
dypt i din deilighets v�r -
� bli til et hav som g�r
et annet hav i m�te
gjennom det ensomme rom -
� bli til en brenning i fr�dende skum.
Hav mot hav!
� knuses
og synke i fredens ensomme grav ---
- Andr� Bjerke
P� jorden et sted
Tro ikke frosten som senker en fred
av sne i ditt h�r.
Alltid er det p� jorden et sted
tidlig v�r.
Tro ikke m�rket n�r lyset g�r ned
i skumringens fang.
Alltid er det p� jorden et sted
soloppgang.
- Andr� Bjerke
Tue das, wodurch du
w�rdig wirst, gl�cklich
zu sein.
- Immanuel Kant
�ffnen wir das Herz nicht,
gehen wir zugrunde.
- Alexander Bloch
Um � bera
Skapte er vi te bera,
og lette b�rene for kvarandre.
Til f�nyttes lever ingen. -
Men v�re eigne b�rer
skal vi bera �leine.
Stor og verdfull er sorgi
du ikkje kan dele med andre.
Men fattigsleg, liti og arm er den glede
som du vil ha �leine.
Hjelpelaus er den
som ikkje har nokon � hjelpe
og vera god mot.
Lik tre utan sevjestraum
turkast han inn --.
Den mannen ber tyngste b�ri
som ingenting har � bera.
- Jan-Magnus Bruheim
Beeile dich nicht zu
sehr, f�hre lieber alles
zu Ende, selbst wenn es
l�nger dauert.
- Fjodor M. Dostojewski
Jeder ist berufen, etwas
in der Welt zur Vollendung
zu bringen.
- Martin Buber
Sch�n ist eigentlich alles,
was man mit Liebe
betrachtet.
- Christian Morgenstern
Scorn not his simplicity
See the child with the golden hair
and eyes that show the emptyness inside.
Do we know, can we understand
just how he feels, or have we really tried?
See him now as he stands alone
and watches children play a children�s game.
Simple child, he looks almost like
the others, yet they know he�s not the same.
Scorn not his simplicity
but rather try to love him all the more.
Scorn not his simplicity, oh no, oh no, oh no�
See him stare, not recognizing
that kind face that only yesterday he loved.
The loving face of a mother who can�t
understand what she�s been guilty of.
How she cried tears of happiness
the day the doctor told her: �It�s a boy�
Now she cries tears of helplessness
when she thinks of the things he can�t enjoy.
Scorn not his simplicity
but rather try to love him all the more.
Scorn not his simplicity, oh no, oh no, oh no�
Only he knows how to face the future
hopefully surrounded by despair.
He won�t ask for your pity or your sympathy
but surely you must care?
Scorn not his simplicity
but rather try to love him all the more.
Scorn not his simplicity, oh no, oh no, oh no�
- Phil Coulter
The road not taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no steps had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is, when going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the waters�
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
- James Joyce
Jeg er det dikt
Jeg er det dikt som ingen skrev.
Jeg er det alltid brente brev.
Jeg er den ubetr�dte sti
og tonen uten melodi.
Jeg er den stumme leppes b�nn.
Jeg er en uf�dt kvinnes s�nn,
en streng som ingen h�nd har spent,
et b�l som aldri er blitt tent.
Vekk meg! Forl�s meg! L�ft meg opp
av jord og berg, av �nd og kropp!
Men intet svarer n�r jeg ber.
Jeg er de ting som aldri skjer.
- Inger Hagerup
Kj�rligheten skal ogs� d�
Drep meg, sa hun, for d�den
eier oss likevel.
Heller enn v�re forlatt av livet
vil jeg forlate det selv.
Kj�rligheten skal ogs� d�
og aldri komme igjen.
Elskede, la meg g� foran,
la meg f� d� f�r den!
- Inger Hagerup
She weeps over Rahoon
Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,
Where my dark lover lies.
Sad as his voice that calls me, sadly calling,
At grey moonrise.
Love, hear thou
How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling,
Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling,
Then as now.
Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and cold
As his sad heart has lain
Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould
And muttering rain.
- James Joyce
Simples
O bella bionda,
Sei come l�onda
Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the still garden where a child
Gathers the simple salad leaves.
A moondew stars her hanging hair
And moonlight kisses her young brow
And, gathering, she sings an air:
Fair as the wave is, fair, art thou!
Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon
And mine a shielded heart for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.
- James Joyce
A Poem For The Grieving
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn�s rain.
When you awaken in the morning�s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
- Anonymous
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Had I the heaven�s embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
- William Butler Yeats
A White Rose
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
- John Boyle O�Reilly
The Falling of the Leaves
Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear on thy stooping brow.
- William Butler Yeats
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
and my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine, -
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
- William Blake
The Sick Rose
Oh rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
- William Blake
We are all in the
gutter, but some of us
are looking at the stars.
- Oscar Wilde
If
If you can keep you head whe all around you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about, don�t deal in lies,
Or being hated don�t give way to hating,
And yet don�t look to good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream � and not make dreams your master;
If you can think � and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you�ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build �em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make a heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: �Hold on!�
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings � nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If al men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds� worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that�s in it,
And � which is more � you�ll be a Man, my son!
- Rudyard Kipling
Alone
From childhoods� hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then � in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life � was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
- Edgar Allan Poe
Brown Penny
I whispered, �I am too young.�
And then, �I am old enough�;
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
�Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.�
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is a crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.
- William Butler Yeats
Evening Star
�Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars in their orbits,
Shone pale thro� the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
�Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold � too cold for me -
There pass�d, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Tha n that colder, lowly light.
- Edgar Allan Poe
When You Are Old
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beaty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced among the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.
- William Butler Yeats
Prayer Before Birth
I am not yet born; Oh hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the
stoat or the club-footed ghoul come near me.
I am not yet born; console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong dopes dope me, with wise liea lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.
I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees
to talk to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white
light in the back of my mind to guide me.
I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my
words when they speak me, my thoughts when they
think me, my treason engendered by traitors
beyond me, my life when they murder by means
of my hands, my death when they live me.
I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men leture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.
I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
come near me.
I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me.
Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.
- Louis MacNeice
This Morning
This morning I will not
Comb my hair.
It has lain
Pillowed on the hand of my lover.
- Hitomaro
Ars Poetica
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown --
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves.
Memory by memory the mind --
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.
A poem should be equal to:
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two light above the sea --
A poem should not mean
But be.
- Archibald MacLeish
The False Friends
They laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.
And they were pitiful and mild
Who whispered to me then,
�The heart that breaks in April, child,
Will mend in May again.�
Oh, many a mended heart they knew.
So old they were, and wise.
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!
Who flings me silly talk of May
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.
- Dorothy Parker
A Very Short Song
Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad -
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse
- Dorothy Parker
Resume
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren�t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
- Dorothy Parker
The Flaw In Paganism
Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love, the reeling midnight through,
For tomorrow we shall die!
(But, alas, we never do.)
- Dorothy Parker
Inscription for the Ceiling of a Bedroom
Daily dawns another day;
I must up to make my way.
Though I dress and drink and eat,
Move my fingers and my feet,
Learn a little, here and there,
Weep and laugh and sweat and swear,
Hear a song, or watch a stage,
Leave some words upon a page,
Claim a foe, or hail a friend -
Bed awaits me at the end.
Though I go in pride and strength,
I�ll come back to bed at length.
Though I walk in blinded woe,
Back to bed I�m bound to go.
High my heart, or bowed my head,
All my days but lead to bed.
Up, and out, and on; and then
Ever back to bed again,
Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall -
I�m a fool to rise at all!
- Dorothy Parker
The more loving one
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
- W.H. Auden
The Wayfarer
The wayfarer,
perceiving the pathway to truth,
was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
in a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."
- Stephen Crane
-carina