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Hi, friends, |
U r welcome to come here to share with me about your experiences in terms of
poetry (writing, translating) and the life of as a poet. (Is there anyone living in this way ?)
winter is a copious season for a poet
then, how is your works up to now,
Near the christmas and new year
May it were a common passed year
And waiting for another one ?
What is your new plan , u , never
satisfied with the present condition
X'mas gift to you, Poetry Lovers
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
Then there's this by William Shakespeare, from "King Richard II":
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
[ Last edited by derektian at 2006-12-21 12:53 AM ]