¿Cuándo fue la última vez que os emocionó un poema?
"What is poetry", by John Ashberry.
The medieval town, with frieze
Of boy scouts from Nagoya? The snow
That came when we wanted it to snow?
Beautiful images? Trying to avoid
Ideas, as in this poem? But we
Go back to them as to a wife, leaving
The mistress we desire? Now they
will have to believe it
As we believe it. In school
All the thought got combed out:
What was left was like a field.
Shut your eyes and you can feel it for miles around.
Now open them on a thin vertical path.
It might give us -- what? -- some flowers soon?
Bonus Track: One woman’s battle to bring poetry back into everyday life (via BookNinja)
3 comments:
La última vez que me emocionó un poema...¿y tú me lo preguntas?
Meeting Point
Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs)
Time was away and somewhere else.
And they were neither up nor down;
The stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.
The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise -
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.
The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.
Time was away and somewhere else.
The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.
Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.
God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body's peace
God or whatever means the Good.
Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.
-- Louis MacNeice
Yo, a la española:
XXX
Asomaba a sus ojos una lágrima
y a mi labio una frase de perdón;
habló el orgullo y enjugó su llanto,
y la frase en mis labios expiró.
Yo voy por un camino, ella por otro;
pero al pensar en nuestro mutuo amor,
yo digo aún: «¿Por qué callé aquel día?»
Y ella dirá: «¿Por qué no lloré yo?»
Por cierto, me gusta mucho el cuadro de "cazadores en la nieve", me acuerdo de estudiarlo en 4º :D
Tocaya! no deja de tener su gracia que nos hayamos intercambiado los papeles, eh! :-)
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