The line
that remained, that
became true: . . . your
house in Paris — become
the alterpiece of your hands.
Breathed through thrice,
shone through thrice.
……………….
It’s turning dumb, turning deaf
behind our eyes.
I see the poison flower
in all manner of words and shapes.
Go. Come.
Love blots out its name: to
you it ascribes itself.
Tr. Michael Hamburger
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Portrait From The Infantry
- Ок Мельникова – Плацкарт-блюз
- Look Down, Fair Moon. by Walt Whitman
- Dinner Date by Rainbow Reed
- Robert Burns: The Whistle -A Ballad:
- A Comparison by William Cowper
- Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare
- An Aquarium poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- You Personify God’s Message by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- happiness.html
- what I want to know by Raj Arumugam
- When Love Is Over
- Robert Burns: A Lass Wi’ A Tocher:
- From Death
- Remember the Tick by RD McManes
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
