To Frank O’Hara
Sometimes when my eyes are red
I go up on top of the RCA Building
and gaze at my world, Manhattan-
my buildings, streets I’ve done feats in,
lofts, beds, coldwater flats
-on Fifth Ave below which I also bear in mind,
its ant cars, little yellow taxis, men
walking the size of specks of wool-
Panorama of the bridges, sunrise over Brooklyn machine,
sun go down over New Jersey where I was born
& Paterson where I played with ants-
my later loves on 15th Street,
my greater loves of Lower East Side,
my once fabulous amours in the Bronx
faraway-
paths crossing in these hidden streets,
my history summed up, my absences
and ecstasies in Harlem-
-sun shining down on all I own
in one eyeblink to the horizon
in my last eternity-
matter is water.
Sad,
I take the elevator and go
down, pondering,
and walk on the pavements staring into all man’s
plateglass, faces,
questioning after who loves,
and stop, bemused
in front of an automobile shopwindow
standing lost in calm thought,
traffic moving up & down 5th Avenue blocks behind me
waiting for a moment when …
Time to go home & cook supper & listen to
the romantic war news on the radio
… all movement stops
& I walk in the timeless sadness of existence,
tenderness flowing thru the buildings,
my fingertips touching reality’s face,
my own face streaked with tears in the mirror
of some window-at dusk-
where I have no desire-
for bonbons-or to own the dresses or Japanese
lampshades of intellection-
Confused by the spectacle around me,
Man struggling up the street
with packages, newspapers,
ties, beautiful suits
toward his desire
Man, woman, streaming over the pavements
red lights clocking hurried watches &
movements at the curb-
And all these streets leading
so crosswise, honking, lengthily,
by avenues
stalked by high buildings or crusted into slums
thru such halting traffic
screaming cars and engines
so painfully to this
countryside, this graveyard
this stillness
on deathbed or mountain
once seen
never regained or desired
in the mind to come
where all Manhattan that I’ve seen must disappear.
A few random poems:
- Three Songs by William Shakespeare
- Wings
- No quise detenerte by Luz del Alba Nicola
- In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo poem – Alfred Austin
- On the late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations by Robert Burns
- Василий Жуковский – Адельстан
- Carry Her Over the Water by W H Auden
- Robert Burns: Birthday Ode For 31st December, 1787:
- Шекспир – Я дорого ценю любовь твою – Сонет 87
- Out At Plough by William Barnes
- Lo! Victress on the Peaks. by Walt Whitman
- The Lady’s Third Song by William Butler Yeats
- The Coronet poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- Mine Sweepers by Rudyard Kipling
- Since There Is No Escape by Sara Teasdale
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Степан Щипачев – Потомкам
- Степан Щипачев – По дороге в совхоз
- Степан Щипачев – Опять тревожно, больно сердцу стало
- Степан Щипачев – Обращение к времени
- Степан Щипачев – Не громок, не бросок мой стих
- Степан Щипачев – Любовью дорожить умейте
- Степан Щипачев – Лил дождь осенний
- Степан Щипачев – Ладонь
- Степан Щипачев – Голос
- Степан Щипачев – День
- Степан Щипачев – Березка
- Степан Щипачев – Атака
- Стефан Малларме – Звенящий зимний день
- Стефан Малларме – Записка Уистлеру
- Стефан Малларме – Вздох
- Стефан Малларме – Весеннее обновление
- Стефан Малларме – В идоложертвенном ликующем костре
- Стефан Малларме – В альбом
- Стефан Малларме – Устав от горького бездействия и лени
- Стефан Малларме – Появление
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
