Posts Tagged ‘classic’

The Giaour

Posted: septembrie 20, 2011 by ForSaKeN in Poezie
Etichete:, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Giaour

-Fragment-
by Lord Byron

A turban carved in coarsest stone,
A pillar with rank weeds o’ergrown,
Whereon can now be scarcely read
The Koran verse that mourns the dead,
Point out the spot where Hassan fell
A victim in that lonely dell.
There sleeps as true an Osmanlie
As e’er at Mecca bent the knee;
As ever scorn’d forbidden wine,
Or pray’d with face towards the shrine,
In orisons resumed anew
At solemn sound of „Alla Hu!”
Yet died he by a stranger’s hand,
And stranger in his native land;
Yet died he as in arms he stood,
And unavenged, at least in blood.
But him the maids of Paradise
Impatient to their halls invite,
And the dark Heaven of Houris’ eyes
On him shall glance for ever bright;
They come–their kerchiefs green they wave,
And welcome with a kiss the brave!
Who falls in battle ‘gainst a Giaour
Is worthiest an immortal bower.

But thou, false Infidel! shall writhe
Beneath avenging Monkir’s scythe;
And from its torments ‘scape alone
To wander round lost Eblis’ throne;
And fire unquench’d, unquenchable,
Around, within, thy heart shall dwell;
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
But first, on earth as Vampire sent,
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent:
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corse:
Thy victims ere they yet expire
Shall know the demon for their sire,
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, most beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father’s name–
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet must thou end thy task, and mark
Her cheek’s last tinge, her eye’s last spark,
And the last glassy glance must view
Which freezes o’er its lifeless blue;
Then with unhallow’d hand shalt tear
The tresses of her yellow hair,
Of which in life a lock when shorn
Affection’s fondest pledge was worn,
But now is borne away by thee,
Memorial of thine agony!
Wet with thine own best blood shall drip
Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip;
Then stalking to thy sullen grave,
Go–and with Gouls and Afrits rave;
Till these in horror shrink away
From Spectre more accursed than they!

╠ Articole relationate: ╣
Lista completa a poeziilor

Reclame


Mireasa din Corint

de Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Din Atena, un flacau descinde
In Corint; aici strain era,
Doar un cetatean de-al sau parinte
Cu o vorba s-a legat, candva:
Dar de-atuncea lor,
Fiica si fecior,
Mire si mireasa le spuneau.

Insa l-or primi cu bucurie
Crezul vechi de l-ar fi lepadat?
Pe ai sai, pe el, pagani ii stie,
Iara gazda lui s-a crestinat.
Cand se naste-un crez
Dragostea ades
Buruiana, la gunoi s-a dat!

Cufundata-n somn adanc e casa;
Bezna. Treaza, mama auzit-a,
L-a-mbiat cu drag; asterne masa,
In iatacul aurit l-invita.
Abia ca grai
Si cina sosi.
Cu drag il pofti gazda, ce iesit-a.

Vinul cel de prêt, ba si mancarea
Negustate insa le-a lasat.
Istovit, uitand si de-nsetare,
Imbracat el cade plumb pe pat.
Somn ca nu l-a prins.
Peste prag, prelins,
Se strecoara-un oaspete ciudat.

In al lampii licar se arata,
Toata-n valuri ca-ntr-un alb vesmint,
Fruntea-n auriu si-n negru, o fata,
In cucernic pas inaintand.
Dar cum l-a zarit,
Chipu-i s-a-ngrozit,
Mana-i alba iat-o ridicand.

“Oare-s socotita o straina,
Ca de oaspete nimica n-am aflat?
In chilie vrut-au sa ma tina!
Ce rusine m-a cuprins! Indat`
Sa tulbur n-as vrea
Odihna cuiva!
Eu, cum am venit, grabnic am plecat”

“Preafrumoaso, nu, ramai!”, ii zice,
Sare din culcus, strigand: “Aici vei sta!
Ceres, Bachus, darul lor aici e,
Tu, acum pe Eros mi-l poti da!
Stai! Cat ai clipi,
Teama va pieri:
De sunt veseli zeii, vom afla!”

“Tinere, de mine fugi departe!
Amagirii mama s-a supus:
De placeri lumesti sa nu am parte,
De se-alina boala-I, fost-a spus.
Deci s-a juruit
Si a harazit
Tineretea-mi sacrei bolti de sus.

Am privit cum pleaca la rascruce
Forfota pestrita: vechii zei;
Azi Mantuitor slavim, pe cruce
Prins, in cer! Dar nu-l vezi ca pe ei!
Tauri, miei ferim
Si nu-i mai jertfim:
Oameni cad drept jertfa, cati nu vrei!”

El intreaba, vrea sa inteleaga,
Cugetu-i nu pierde un cuvant.
Fata-n fata cu mireasa draga:
“In iatac de taina-aievea sunt?
Da-mi-te in dar!
Zei strabuni, har sfant
Ne aduc, prin vechiul legamant.”

“Suflet bun, ah! Nu e cu putinta,
Vor surorii mele-a te sorti;
De-o saruti, sa zboare-a ta dorinta
Spre chilia-n care va pali
Nestinsul meu dor,
Chin sfasietor;
Eu curand sub colb voi odihni!”

“Nu! Iti jur pe flacara tacuta
Ce ne prevesteste Hymeneu,
Nu esti pentru bucurii pierduta,
Ai sa ma-nsotesti la tatal meu.
Nu te mai sfii,
Paznic fie-aci,
Sa nuntim chiar azi si tu si eu.”

Semne de credinta-si dau indata,
Lant de aur ii intinde ea;
El o cupa de argint, lucrata
Maiestrit, iubitei vrea sa-i dea.
“Pentru mine nu-i”,
A raspuns ea. “Vrui
O suvita numai. Mi-o poti da?”

Miezul noptii, negru ceas, se-aude;
Fetei parca noi puteri ii vin.
Palidele buze par mai ude,
Cu nesat sorb sangeriul vin.
Dar de-azima sa,
Gingas cand ii da,
Nu se-atinge catusi de putin.

Tanarului ea-i intinde-o cupa.
Lacom el licoarea a sorbit.
Biata inima sta sa se rupa,
Dragoste cerseste cel iubit!
Dar cum implora,
Fata-l infrunta,
Si plangand pe pat s-a prabusit.

Apoi ingenunche dinainte-i:
“Ti-as opri chiar eu cumplitul chin,
Dar ma tem ca groaza te-o cuprinde
De-ti dezvalui taina pe deplin.
Alba, fulg de nea
E aleasa ta,
Vai, cu cloi de gheata pieptu-I plin!”

Tinerescu-I foc o infioara,
O cuprinde-n dragastos alint:
“Ai sa dogoresti in bratu-mi iara,
Chiar de-ai fi trimisa din mormant!”
Vis de sarutari,
Roi de-mbratisari,
“Simti vapaia? Simti dogorilor framant?”

Lanturi de iubire si-nclestare,
Lacrimi isca-n fiece sarut,
Ea, pe buze-I soarbe stropi de soare,
Intr-un singur ins s-a prefacut.
Dar avantul lui
Dand glas sangelui
A ramas in pieptul fetei mut.

Mamei, prinsa prin gospodarie,
Ii rasuna-n prag un zvon ciudat.
Se opreste, asculta, soapta-nvie;
Langa usa-adasta necurmat.
Geamat de iubire,
Mireasa si mire,
Freamat de sarut necugetat.

Iscodeste-ntr-una, nemiscata,
Totusi sa se-ncredinteze vrea.
Dor si juraminti: e inciudata,
Soapte de iubire auzea.
“Iata umbre rosii,
N-auzi tu cocosii?”
“Dar la noapte esti din nou a mea?”

Cu putinta nu-i sa mai indure,
Mama trage ivarul, grabit:
“Sunt in casa fete prea usure
Ce se dau strainului sosit?”
Licarul raspunde,
Si mama patrunde,
Pe copila-n pat o a zarit!

El, de spaima, in intaia clipa
Chiar cu valul ei, ca sub covor,
S-o ascunda vrea; dar ea in pripa
Zvarle darz gingasul ajutor.
De un duh manta,
Trupu-I s-a-naltat
Drept din pat, incet, neiertator.

“Ma trezesti din nou in deznadejdi?”
Spune ea cu glas neomenesc;
“Din caminul cald ma izgonesti,
Pizmui, mama, ceasul luminos?
Nu iti e de-ajuns?
Trupul mi-ai ascuns
Sub tarana-n pripa, colo jos!

Dar sub lespezi stramte de sihastra
Cugetul aflatu-mi-a judet;
Tot ce canta preotimea voastra,
Binecuvantarea-i, n-are pret!
Apa-a stins vreodat`
Piept invapaiat?
Dorul nici sub lespezi nu-l ingheti!

Venus cand domnea-n camin, voioasa,
Mi-a fost tanarul mie sortit!
Mama, de-un cuvant furat iti pasa?
Juramant nevrednic te-a robit!
Crezi c-asculta zeii
Vorbele femeii
Ce de Hymeneu m-a talharit?

Din mormant deci fost-am harazita,
Dupa un iubit pierdut sa fug,
Sa-ndragesc de ce-am fost pagubita,
Sange cand din inima sa-i sug.
Lui de i l-am supt,
Si cu alti ma-nfrupt;
Mortii tineri imi sunt larg belsug!

Mandru chip! Pe soarta-ti sunt stapana!
In curand te stingi pe lanced plai.
Salba mea ti-am pus-o doar in mana,
Iar din parul tau suvita luai.
Bine s-o provesti.
Maine-ncaruntesti.
Colbul sur te-o face iar balai.

Mama, asculta-mi ruga cea din urma!
Ai inchis iubirea-n stramt bordel!
Spaima patimei pe rug se curma;
Flacari ne cuprinda, pace daca vrei!
Noi scantei cand sar,
Sub cenusa-i jar!
Vom zbura din nou spre vechii zei!”

╠ Articole relationate: ╣
Lista completa a poeziilor

The vampire

Posted: noiembrie 2, 2010 by ForSaKeN in Literatura, Poezie
Etichete:, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The vampire

Conrad Aiken

She rose among us where we lay.
She wept, we put our work away.
She chilled our laughter, stilled our play;
And spread a silence there.
And darkness shot across the sky,
And once, and twice, we heard her cry;
And saw her lift white hands on high
And toss her troubled hair.

What shape was this who came to us,
With basilisk eyes so ominous,
With mouth so sweet, so poisonous,
And tortured hands so pale?
We saw her wavering to and fro,
Through dark and wind we saw her go;
Yet what her name was did not know;
And felt our spirits fail.

We tried to turn away; but still
Above we heard her sorrow thrill;
And those that slept, they dreamed of ill
And dreadful things:
Of skies grown red with rending flames
And shuddering hills that cracked their frames;
Of twilights foul with wings;

And skeletons dancing to a tune;
And cries of children stifled soon;
And over all a blood-red moon
A dull and nightmare size.
They woke, and sought to go their ways,
Yet everywhere they met her gaze,
Her fixed and burning eyes.

Who are you now, –we cried to her–
Spirit so strange, so sinister?
We felt dead winds above us stir;
And in the darkness heard
A voice fall, singing, cloying sweet,
Heavily dropping, though that heat,
Heavy as honeyed pulses beat,
Slow word by anguished word.

And through the night strange music went
With voice and cry so darkly blent
We could not fathom what they meant;
Save only that they seemed
To thin the blood along our veins,
Foretelling vile, delirious pains,
And clouds divulging blood-red rains
Upon a hill undreamed.

And this we heard: „Who dies for me,
He shall possess me secretly,
My terrible beauty he shall see,
And slake my body’s flame.
But who denies me cursed shall be,
And slain, and buried loathsomely,
And slimed upon with shame.”

And darkness fell. And like a sea
Of stumbling deaths we followed, we
Who dared not stay behind.
There all night long beneath a cloud
We rose and fell, we struck and bowed,
We were the ploughman and the ploughed,
Our eyes were red and blind.

And some, they said, had touched her side,
Before she fled us there;
And some had taken her to bride;
And some lain down for her and died;
Who had not touched her hair,
Ran to and fro and cursed and cried
And sought her everywhere.

„Her eyes have feasted on the dead,
And small and shapely is her head,
And dark and small her mouth,” they said,
„And beautiful to kiss;
Her mouth is sinister and red
As blood in moonlight is.”

Then poets forgot their jeweled words
And cut the sky with glittering swords;
And innocent souls turned carrion birds
To perch upon the dead.
Sweet daisy fields were drenched with death,
The air became a charnel breath,
Pale stones were splashed with red.

Green leaves were dappled bright with blood
And fruit trees murdered in the bud;
And when at length the dawn
Came green as twilight from the east,
And all that heaving horror ceased,
Silent was every bird and beast,
And that dark voice was gone.

No word was there, no song, no bell,
No furious tongue that dream to tell;
Only the dead, who rose and fell
Above the wounded men;
And whisperings and wails of pain
Blown slowly from the wounded grain,
Blown slowly from the smoking plain;
And silence fallen again.

Until at dusk, from God knows where,
Beneath dark birds that filled the air,
Like one who did not hear or care,
Under a blood-red cloud,
An aged ploughman came alone
And drove his share through flesh and bone,
And turned them under to mould and stone;
All night long he ploughed.

╠ Articole relationate: ╣
Lista completa a poeziilor

The vampirine Fair

by Thomas Hardy

Gilbert had sailed to India’s shore,
And I was all alone:
My lord came in at my open door
And said, „O fairest one!”

He leant upon the slant bureau,
And sighed, „I am sick for thee!”
„My lord,” said I, „pray speak not so,
Since wedded wife I be.”

Leaning upon the slant bureau,
Bitter his next words came:
„So much I know; and likewise know
My love burns on the same!

„But since you thrust my love away,
And since it knows no cure,
I must live out as best I may
The ache that I endure.”

When Michaelmas browned the nether Coomb,
And Wingreen Hill above,
And made the hollyhocks rags of bloom,
My lord grew ill of love.

My lord grew ill with love for me;
Gilbert was far from port;
And–so it was–that time did see
Me housed at Manor Court.

About the bowers of Manor Court
The primrose pushed its head
When, on a day at last, report
Arrived of him I had wed.

„Gilbert, my lord, is homeward bound,
His sloop is drawing near,
What shall I do when I am found
Not in his house but here?”

„O I will heal the injuries
I’ve done to him and thee.
I’ll give him means to live at ease
Afar from Shastonb’ry.”

When Gilbert came we both took thought:
„Since comfort and good cheer,”
Said he, „So readily are bought,
He’s welcome to thee, Dear.”

So when my lord flung liberally
His gold in Gilbert’s hands,
I coaxed and got my brothers three
Made stewards of his lands.

And then I coaxed him to install
My other kith and kin,
With aim to benefit them all
Before his love ran thin.

And next I craved to be possessed
Of plate and jewels rare.
He groaned: „You give me, Love, no rest,
Take all the law will spare!”

And so in course of years my wealth
Became a goodly hoard,
My steward brethren, too, by stealth
Had each a fortune stored.

Thereafter in the gloom he’d walk,
And by and by began
To say aloud in absent talk,
„I am a ruined man! –

„I hardly could have thought,” he said,
„When first I looked on thee,
That one so soft, so rosy red,
Could thus have beggared me!”

Seeing his fair estates in pawn,
And him in such decline,
I knew that his domain had gone
To lift up me and mine.

Next month upon a Sunday morn
A gunshot sounded nigh:
By his own hand my lordly born
Had doomed himself to die.

„Live, my dear lord, and much of thine
Shall be restored to thee!”
He smiled, and said ‘twixt word and sign,
„Alas–that cannot be!”

And while I searched his cabinet
For letters, keys, or will,
‘Twas touching that his gaze was set
With love upon me still.

And when I burnt each document
Before his dying eyes,
‘Twas sweet that he did not resent
My fear of compromise.

The steeple-cock gleamed golden when
I watched his spirit go:
And I became repentant then
That I had wrecked him so.

Three weeks at least had come and gone,
With many a saddened word,
Before I wrote to Gilbert on
The stroke that so had stirred.

And having worn a mournful gown,
I joined, in decent while,
My husband at a dashing town
To live in dashing style.

Yet though I now enjoy my fling,
And dine and dance and drive,
I’d give my prettiest emerald ring
To see my lord alive.

And when the meet on hunting-days
Is near his churchyard home,
I leave my bantering beaux to place
A flower upon his tomb;

And sometimes say: „Perhaps too late
The saints in Heaven deplore
That tender time when, moved by Fate,
He darked my cottage door.”

╠ Articole relationate: ╣
Lista completa a poeziilor

The Vampyre

Posted: noiembrie 2, 2010 by ForSaKeN in Literatura, Poezie
Etichete:, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

the Vampyre

by James Clerk Maxwell

Thair is a knichte rydis through the wood,
And a douchty knichte is hee,
And sure hee is on a message sent,
He rydis sae hastilie.
Hee passit the aik, and hee passit the birk,
And hee passit monie a tre,
Bot plesant to him was the saugh sae slim,
For beneath it hee did see

The boniest ladye that ever he saw,
Scho was sae schyn and fair.
And there scho sat, beneath the saugh,
Kaiming hir gowden hair.
And then the knichte – „Oh ladye brichte,
What chance hes broucht you here,
But say the word, and ye schall gang
Back to your kindred dear.”
Then up and spok the Ladye fair –
„I have nae friends or kin,
Bot in a littel boat I live,
Amidst the waves’ loud din.”
Then answered thus the douchty knichte –
„I’ll follow you through all,
For gin ye bee in a littel boat,
The world to it seemis small.”
They gaed through the wood, and through the wood
To the end of the wood they came:
And when they came to the end of the wood
They saw the salt sea faem.
And they they saw the wee, wee boat,
That daunced on the top of the wave,
And first got in the ladye fair,
And then the knichte sae brave;

They got into the wee, wee boat,
And rowed wi’ a’ their micht;
When the knichte sae brave, he turnit about,
And lookit at the ladye bricht;
He lookit at her bonie cheik,
And hee lookit at hir twa bricht eyne,
Bot hir rosie cheik growe ghaistly pale,
And scho seymit as scho deid had been.
The fause fause knichte growe pale wi frichte,
And his hair rose up on end,
For gane-by days cam to his mynde,
And his former luve he kenned.
Then spake the ladye, – „Thou, fause knichte,
Hast done to mee much ill,
Thou didst forsake me long ago,
Bot I am constant still;
For though I ligg in the woods sae cald,
At rest I canna bee
Until I sucke the gude lyfe blude
Of the man that gart me dee.”
Hee saw hir lipps were wet wi’ blude,
And hee saw hir lyfelesse eyne,
And loud hee cry’d, „Get frae my syde,
Thou vampyr corps uncleane!”

Bot no, hee is in hir magic boat,
And on the wyde wyde sea;
And the vampyr suckis his gude lyfe blude,
Sho suckis hym till hee dee.
So now beware, whoe’re you are,
That walkis in this lone wood;
Beware of that deceitfull spright,
The ghaist that suckis the blude.

╠ Articole relationate: ╣
Lista completa a poeziilor