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
- Владимир Маяковский – Да здравствует неделя ремонта! (РОСТА № 294)
- София Парнок – Белой ночью
- At the Lake Pavilion by Wang Wei
- I. The Witch of Coös by Robert Frost
- Two Years Later by William Butler Yeats
- Юрий Коринец – Стихи о вшах
- Омар Хайям – Долго ль спину придется мне гнуть или нет
- Audley Court poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Through Liberty To Light poem – Alfred Austin
- England! The Time Is Come When Thou Should’st Wean by William Wordsworth
- Иван Коневской – В небывалое
- Beach Glass poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Fragment of Song—“My Jean!” by Robert Burns
- On Time poem – John Milton poems
- Return From Business
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).
