My Sad Self poem – Allen Ginsberg

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.

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Poems in English 

• Федор Сологуб – В лес пришла пастушка by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – В камине пылания много by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – В иных веках, в иной отчизне by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – В этот час by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – В его саду растет рябина by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Терцинами писать как будто очень трудно by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Тепло мне потому, что мой уютный дом by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Тень решётки прочной by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Там, внизу, костры горели by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Так же внятен мне, как прежде by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Так нежен был внезапный поцелуй by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Святых имен твоих не знаю by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Своеволием рока by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Светлый пир by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Светлый дом мой всё выше by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Сверкайте, миги строгих дней by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Солнце, которому больно by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Собака седого короля by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Снова саваны надели by Фёдор Сологуб
• Федор Сологуб – Снежное поле бесшумно by Фёдор Сологуб

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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.

 

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