Give me another life, and I’ll be singing
in Caffè Rafaella. Or simply sitting
there. Or standing there, as furniture in the corner…
…the aroma of free schools of ocean fish
who swim to the vase of roses, still soaked with morning dew.
‘Lord, where are you?’ said the man, leaving his bed.
‘Right here,’ was the answer, but still the fellow was deaf.
The child cried in his sleep and clung to his mother…
Вера сознания есть свобода…
Ich freue mich schon darauf,
selbst zu Humus zu werden,
begraben, nackt und ohne Sarg…
Но наши дети смотрят телевизор, они видят, как много на земле агрессии, и, возможно, считают, что это единственный способ решить все проблемы. И мы прямо сейчас, в своем доме, можем показать им, что есть другой путь.
For the pure animals man doesn’t frighten
I love you to love
I love you for all the women I do not love…
Love the violator who holds the mirror
to everything you have disowned within yourself-
so that all your desire, your creative impulse
may be freed…
I looked deep into your eyes,
trying to understand you,
but I saw everything about me,
I never wanted to see.
…and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Dich hab ich, mir scheint, geliebt in vielen Gestalten
So viele Male,
wieder und wieder in jedem Leben, wieder und wieder
in jeder Epoche.
If you will know how to stay close to me,
and we will still be different,
if the sun shines on both of us
without our shadows overlapping…
Dear things, kind things
That my old love said,
Ranged themselves reproachfully
Round my bed.
O perpetual revolution of configured stars,
O perpetual recurrence of determined seasons,
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action…
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors…
If I adore You out of fear of Hell, burn me in Hell!
If I adore you out of desire for Paradise,
Lock me out of Paradise.
But if I adore you for Yourself alone,
Do not deny to me Your eternal beauty.
No more can you die on sword or by years
than you can die on doorways
through which you walk, one room into another…
To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
You will emerge, bloody, broken, bruised, but alive.
They will tell you you’re on a planet called Earth…
Stop. Breathe.
Know it’s their pain, not yours.
Know they are dreaming the only dream they can dream until they wake up.
Know that they don’t know you, only their phantasy.
Perhaps they find it hard to love themselves…
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…
And the four of them lived in that house near the park, the girl with no freckles the sweet-potato boy the basketball father and darkroom mother, and they lit their candles and said their prayers, and the corners of the photographs curled.
One day some towers fell.
They walk beside Her ‘rickshaw wheels—
None ever walk by mine;
And that’s because I’m seventeen
And She is forty-nine.
… beyond yourself, beyond desire and reason,
beyond your male preferences for youth, beauty and variety…
Коли до губ твоїх лишається півподиху,
коли до губ твоїх лишається півкроку —
зіниці твої виткані із подиву,
в очах у тебе синьо і широко.
О, Дышащая Жизнь,*
Имя Твоё сияет повсюду!
Высвободи пространство,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.
I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes,
I am present only for you…
… foot doesn’t
yet know that it’s a foot — it
would like to be a
butterfly, or an
apple…
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
…It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.
This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterly
helpless, so that he may beg for mother’s wealth of love…
My life,
Caught in the stubble of the world
Like a tender veil –
This stays me.
No strange move can I make
Without noise of tearing
I dare not.
The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness,
but where or with whom-
of that we are unaware.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Her beauty and the moonlight over you.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne She cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah…
…мы целуем друг друга так, словно во рту у нас множество цветов или рыб, и живое движение жизни, и ее неведомый аромат…/ we kiss with mouths full of flowers or fish, of living movements, of dark fragrance…