Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for?
From Andrea del Sarto
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
21.11.07
雨天 及 早晨的阿斯匹靈 by Soleil
爬離微涼的被窩
烏雲陰沈沈底不想微笑
地面模糊的雨跡
像是殘留的汗漬
毛毛雨天才顯得出來的 大地的體味
濕濕潤潤 充滿生命力底。
"沒有陽光 也沒有關係啊"
嘴角上揚 今天我要抹去不耐煩及冷漠的表情
不受人干擾的做一個隱形幽靈。
awareness, free-will, consciousness, and your day-dreaming eyes
充滿清醒意識 自主底 沈溺幻想
Being a Utopian, is such a privilege
我不忍心把你喚醒
既然現實不見得比較美麗
Can truth set us free?
聽著Uri Caine's Rio
雨天早晨的阿斯匹靈。
烏雲陰沈沈底不想微笑
地面模糊的雨跡
像是殘留的汗漬
毛毛雨天才顯得出來的 大地的體味
濕濕潤潤 充滿生命力底。
"沒有陽光 也沒有關係啊"
嘴角上揚 今天我要抹去不耐煩及冷漠的表情
不受人干擾的做一個隱形幽靈。
awareness, free-will, consciousness, and your day-dreaming eyes
充滿清醒意識 自主底 沈溺幻想
Being a Utopian, is such a privilege
我不忍心把你喚醒
既然現實不見得比較美麗
Can truth set us free?
聽著Uri Caine's Rio
雨天早晨的阿斯匹靈。
16.11.07
Various Portents by Alice Oswald
VARIOUS PORTENTS
by Alice Oswald
Various stars. Various kings.
Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.
Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,
Much cold, much overbearing darkness.
Various long midwinter Glooms.
Various Solitary and Terrible stars.
Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.
Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.
More than one North star, more than one South star.
Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems.
Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thickness of Dark,
Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.
Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,
All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:
Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,
Works of wonder and or water, snowflakes, stars of frost …
Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,
Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,
Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,
Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in Braille.
Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,
Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,
Various crucifixes, all sorts of nightsky necklaces.
Many Wise Men remarking the irregular weather.
Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,
Watchers of whisps of various glowing spindles,
Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,
Seafarers tossing, tied to a star…
Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.
Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.
Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening
Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.
by Alice Oswald
Various stars. Various kings.
Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.
Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,
Much cold, much overbearing darkness.
Various long midwinter Glooms.
Various Solitary and Terrible stars.
Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.
Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.
More than one North star, more than one South star.
Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems.
Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thickness of Dark,
Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.
Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,
All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:
Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,
Works of wonder and or water, snowflakes, stars of frost …
Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,
Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,
Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,
Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in Braille.
Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,
Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,
Various crucifixes, all sorts of nightsky necklaces.
Many Wise Men remarking the irregular weather.
Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,
Watchers of whisps of various glowing spindles,
Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,
Seafarers tossing, tied to a star…
Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.
Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.
Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening
Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.
12.10.07
顏色
by Hui-ming Lin
如果天空是藍的
透過湖面看著妳的神情
如果天空是黑的
悄悄閉上我的眼睛
就算烈日當頭晴空萬里
須知
捉摸不定的是顏色
合宜的是彼此恆定的距離
My question...
He studies her through the reflection on the waveless lake when there's sufficient light, does he see himself looking at her, and does she look back at him this way too?
He will stop looking when it's too dark. Is she then invisible too? otherwise, what is keeping him from taking a closer look? Would he only look at her via the lake?
Then the answer to all the above is written in the next few lines:
Physical looks are not equal to reality, because perceptions are easily affected by outer forces, yet he and she have beforhand found the suitable space between them, to be there eternally in reality, neither closer, nor farther.
如果天空是藍的
透過湖面看著妳的神情
如果天空是黑的
悄悄閉上我的眼睛
就算烈日當頭晴空萬里
須知
捉摸不定的是顏色
合宜的是彼此恆定的距離
My question...
He studies her through the reflection on the waveless lake when there's sufficient light, does he see himself looking at her, and does she look back at him this way too?
He will stop looking when it's too dark. Is she then invisible too? otherwise, what is keeping him from taking a closer look? Would he only look at her via the lake?
Then the answer to all the above is written in the next few lines:
Physical looks are not equal to reality, because perceptions are easily affected by outer forces, yet he and she have beforhand found the suitable space between them, to be there eternally in reality, neither closer, nor farther.
2.12.06
Wedding Invite
<-- wedding
<--engagement party------
My brother is getting married on 18th December 2006.
Delighted by the good news, I thought of this poem 'To Us' by Soleil, here's a stanza:
they say,
You found the other half!
you do not make me complete, as I am already complete
you make me better
[read the poem]
I like the romantic reasoning on love in this, and also I'm exceedingly proud of my brother, who has the mentality to create happiness, and the immense courage to love. I am happy for them.
Delighted by the good news, I thought of this poem 'To Us' by Soleil, here's a stanza:
they say,
You found the other half!
you do not make me complete, as I am already complete
you make me better
[read the poem]
I like the romantic reasoning on love in this, and also I'm exceedingly proud of my brother, who has the mentality to create happiness, and the immense courage to love. I am happy for them.
17.9.06
Read this juicy sonnet!! :)
Sonnet 128
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envỳ those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand.
To be so tickled they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more blest than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envỳ those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand.
To be so tickled they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more blest than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
9.8.06
I like this poem
YOU
CAROL ANN DUFFY – BRITISH. B1955
Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.
Falling in love
is glamorous hell: the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame's fierce licks under the skin.
into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.
I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone's face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me
as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream.
CAROL ANN DUFFY – BRITISH. B1955
Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.
Falling in love
is glamorous hell: the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame's fierce licks under the skin.
into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.
I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone's face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me
as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream.
26.4.06
The Waste Land's effect on the recent me.
I finally finished reading T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land at some point last night--I got exhausted reading this poem, and during the process I felt I read it through a thick layor of mist. 'April is the cruelest month' haha, I've got this done in the right month.
One introduction says 'This is a poem about spiritual dryness, about the kind of existence in which no regenerating belief gives significance and value to people's daily activities, sex brings no fruitfulness, and death heralds no resurrection.'
If you want to try to imagine what I felt while reading it, go read this poem. And then tell me if you agree this is about spiritual dryness. I feel like reading more about Upanishad and listen to more Wagner.
And 'Shantih shantih shantih'
One introduction says 'This is a poem about spiritual dryness, about the kind of existence in which no regenerating belief gives significance and value to people's daily activities, sex brings no fruitfulness, and death heralds no resurrection.'
If you want to try to imagine what I felt while reading it, go read this poem. And then tell me if you agree this is about spiritual dryness. I feel like reading more about Upanishad and listen to more Wagner.
And 'Shantih shantih shantih'
7.11.05
Flight by James Tate
Flight
for K.
James Tate
Like a glum cricket
the refrigerator is singing
and just as I am convinced
that it is the only noise
in the building, a pot falls
in 2B. The neighbors on
both sides of me suddenly
realize that they have not
made love to their wives
since 1947. The racket
multiplies. The man downhall
is teaching his dog to fly.
The fish are disgusted
and beat their heads blue
against a cold aquarium. I too
lose control and consider
the dust huddled in the corner
a threat to my endurance.
Were you here, we would not
tolerate mongrels in the air,
nor the conspiracies of dust.
We would drive all night,
your head tilted on my shoulder.
At down, I would nudge you
with my anxious fingers and say,
Already we are in Idaho.
8 Nov 05
PS. Thanks to T, J, and S for now my little crisis has left me. I'm less anxious now. Tomorrow, Leeds library...
for K.
James Tate
Like a glum cricket
the refrigerator is singing
and just as I am convinced
that it is the only noise
in the building, a pot falls
in 2B. The neighbors on
both sides of me suddenly
realize that they have not
made love to their wives
since 1947. The racket
multiplies. The man downhall
is teaching his dog to fly.
The fish are disgusted
and beat their heads blue
against a cold aquarium. I too
lose control and consider
the dust huddled in the corner
a threat to my endurance.
Were you here, we would not
tolerate mongrels in the air,
nor the conspiracies of dust.
We would drive all night,
your head tilted on my shoulder.
At down, I would nudge you
with my anxious fingers and say,
Already we are in Idaho.
8 Nov 05
PS. Thanks to T, J, and S for now my little crisis has left me. I'm less anxious now. Tomorrow, Leeds library...
