A poetic voyage around the world
Folk or formal, classical or modern, rhymed or in free verse, idyllic or melancholy, from any country and in any language, poetry is the most reliable vehicle for a dream trip through time and space, in the known and unknown universe.
1. Incitement to a Young Warrior
In my cup
Sparkling daze
Foaming intoxication.Great whirlwinds
Hovering upside down above us.A great bear's heart
A great eagle's heart
A great hawk's heart
A great whirlwind
All in my cup.Now you shall drink.
(Traditional Papago Indian Song - Undated)
2. Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis
I wonder, who could ever tell
Where Flora dwells, casting her spell;
Who might know in whichever land
The Egyptian dame Thais may stand;
Or Echo, spreading every sound
To river, waterfall or mount,
Seated on Beauty's golden throne;
But where's the snows of past years gone?Where's that wise dame Eloise, who drove
The poor guy crazy for her love?
He ceased to be a man, just to save
The ultimate pleasure for his grave.
And where's the noblest lady, who
Had her man drowned before he knew,
Tying to his neck a heavy stone?
But where's the snows of past years gone?Queen Blanche, as white as lillies are,
With Siren's voice heard from afar;
Bertha, Alice, Beatrice, and all those
Who held their forts against the foes;
And even Joan, Virgin of Arc,
With brow carrying a holy mark,
Where's them, together or alone?
But where's the snows of past years gone?Prince, all I'd like you to retain
Is just my old-fashioned refrain,
In winds or rainfalls ever blown:
But where's the snows of past years gone?Francois Villon (1431-?)
Le Grand Testament (1461–1462)3. The Albatross
Sometimes, to amuse themselves, the men on board a ship
Would catch an albatross, enormous water-fowl,
Following, tireless companion to the trip,
The vessel, gliding on the bitter ocean bowl.Barely deposited upon the wooden boards,
This king of the blue gulfs, ungainly and pitiable,
Shamefully drags his marble-white wings along
Like rows on either side, so sad, so miserable;Once winged voyager, now how awkward and weak!
Once beautiful, now how ridiculous and plain!
One with his smoking pipe burns the edges of his beak,
Another mimes the bird now invalid and lame.The Poet is brother to the feathered prince of clouds;
He haunts the tempests and the brave archer he'll mock;
Exiled on the earth among jeers and hoots shrieked aloud,
He's got those giant wings, that's why he cannot walk.Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)
Les Fleurs du Mal (1857)4. Ariette Oubliee
Deep in ecstasy, all on fire,
Broken by spleen and desire
In this forest, quivering
While the breath of North wind lingers,
We hear, through the trees' gray fingers,
Choirs of little voices sing.A frail whisper, like a blessing,
Spreads about wet and caressing,
Given out by herb and grass
When their sweet vibrations falter;
As if, neath the whirling water,
Pebbles stirred and rolled in mass.And this soul, lamenting quietly
In the hazy dormant valley,
Maybe it's just our soul, you know,
My soul, darling, and your own,
Where forgotten anthems moan
In the warm evening, so low...Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
Romances Sans Paroles (1874)5. The Windows
In these dark rooms, where I spend
Dreary days, I keep wandering about
Looking for windows. (When a window
Opens, it will be a consolation.)
But find the windows I can not, or am not willing
To. And it is perhaps better not to find them.
The light might bring on much more suffering.
Who knows what new things it will show.Constantine P. Cavafy (1863-1933)
Collected Poems (Published 1992)6. Greguerias
The writer is a creature whose punishment consists in writing one hundred million times the phrase: "I want to outdo myself", "I want to outdo myself", "I want to outdo myself"...
A kiss is nothing between brackets.
No wind has the power to leaf through the Rose of the Wind.
And just imagine, all these people now crowding in the phone directory, there'll come a day they won't even be in the phone directory.
Ramon Gomez de la Serna (1888-1963)
Greguerias (1917-1955)7. Funeral & Vertical March
I watch the plaster sculptures on the ceiling.
Mazes, into their dance beguiling me.
I suppose that my happiness might be
A matter of height.Symbols of some superior life,
Roses unalterable, transsubstantiated,
White thorns surrounding one
Amalthean horn.O modest art, deprived of style,
How late do I thy messages receive!
Dream of relief, I shall approach you
Vertically.I shall be drowned among the horizons.
In every universe, on every land,
Struggles for the essential things in life,
Love affairs, ennui.Oh, I must definitely now adorn
Myself with this lovely plaster crown:
So, with the ceiling like a frame around me,
I'll look a pretty sight.Kostas G. Karyotakis (1896-1928)
Elegies & Satires (1927)
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