* with poem *
with poem I sing, until sunset will sank...
with poem I belief the mortal love will come....
with poem I cry, because of the cruel inject's time...
with poem I scream, although breath's time is silent...
with poem I see, in the valley hide a diamond...
with poem I heard, the starving cities are grumbling...
with poem I run, however my green age get away
created : syarifah nazira
Rabu, 14 Agustus 2013
Senin, 12 Agustus 2013
poem
'' Hearing of harvest....''
Hearing of harvest rotting in the valley,
seeing at end of street the barren mountains,
round corners coming suddenly on water,
knowing them shipwrecked who were lauched for island,
we honour founders of these starving cities,
whose honor is the image of our sorrow.
which cannot see its likeness in ther sorrow,
that brought them desperate to the brink of valleys,
dreaming of evening walks through learned cities,
they reined their violent horses on the mountains,
those fields like ships to castaway on island,
vision of green to them that craved for water...
author : Auden
Hearing of harvest rotting in the valley,
seeing at end of street the barren mountains,
round corners coming suddenly on water,
knowing them shipwrecked who were lauched for island,
we honour founders of these starving cities,
whose honor is the image of our sorrow.
which cannot see its likeness in ther sorrow,
that brought them desperate to the brink of valleys,
dreaming of evening walks through learned cities,
they reined their violent horses on the mountains,
those fields like ships to castaway on island,
vision of green to them that craved for water...
author : Auden
poetry
'' The force that through the green fuse ''
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
drives my green age, that blasts the roots of trees
my destroyer
and I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
my youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
the force that drives the water through the rocks
drives my red blood, that dries the mouthng streams
turn mine of wax
and I am dumb to mouh into my veins
how at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
the hand that whirls the water in the pool
stirs the quicksand, that ropes the blowing wind
hauts my shroud sail
and I am dumb to tell the hanging man
how of my clay is made the hangman's line....
Langganan:
Postingan (Atom)