Off topic: 29 - poem by e.e. cummings
Thread poster: A Hayes (X)
A Hayes (X)
A Hayes (X)
Australia
Local time: 05:36
Dec 21, 2002

the greedy the people

(as if as can yes)

they steal and they buy

and they die for because

though the bell in the steeple

says Why



the chary the wary

(as all as can each)

they don\'t and they do

and they turn to a which

though the moon in her glory

says Who



the busy the millions

(as you\'re as can i\'m)

they flock and they flee
<
... See more
the greedy the people

(as if as can yes)

they steal and they buy

and they die for because

though the bell in the steeple

says Why



the chary the wary

(as all as can each)

they don\'t and they do

and they turn to a which

though the moon in her glory

says Who



the busy the millions

(as you\'re as can i\'m)

they flock and they flee

through a thunder of seem

thoguh the stars in their silence

say Be



the cunning the craven

(as think as can feel)

they when and they how

and they live for until

though the sun in his heaven

says Now



the timid the tender

(as doubt as can trust)

they work and they pray

and they bow to a must

though the earth in her splendor

says May



e.e. cummings



Have a Happy and Safe Christmas and New Year (those who celebrate them). And remember what the Dormouse said:

Feed your head,

Feed your head.

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Kim Metzger
Kim Metzger  Identity Verified
Mexico
Local time: 13:36
German to English
Thanks munchkin Dec 21, 2002

Maybe you\'ll also enjoy this one.



My Papa\'s Waltz



The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy.



We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother\'s countenance

Could not unfrown itself.



The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle;

At every st
... See more
Maybe you\'ll also enjoy this one.



My Papa\'s Waltz



The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy.



We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother\'s countenance

Could not unfrown itself.



The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle;

At every step you missed

My right ear scraped a buckle.



You beat time on my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt,

Then waltzed me off to bed

Still clinging to your shirt.



Theodore Roethke

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A Hayes (X)
A Hayes (X)
Australia
Local time: 05:36
TOPIC STARTER
ironically beautiful Dec 22, 2002

thanks Kim.



have a wonderful white (?) Christmas-


 
Arthur Borges
Arthur Borges
China
Local time: 03:36
English
+ ...
Oh Kim & Munchin!!! Dec 22, 2002

You\'re both delightful! Fondest Season\'s Greetings to you both!

 
Kim Metzger
Kim Metzger  Identity Verified
Mexico
Local time: 13:36
German to English
Continuing the American modernist thread Dec 22, 2002

The American poets of the 1920s and 30s are sometimes called the modernist poets. Besides munchkin's e.e. cummings and Roethke, that group also included Wallace Stevens.


CY EST POURTRAICTE, MADAME STE URSULE, ET LES UNZE MILLE VIERGES

Ursula, in a garden, found
A bed of radishes.
She kneeled upon the ground
And gathered them,
With flowers around,
Blue, gold, pink, and green.

She dressed in red and gold brocade
And
... See more
The American poets of the 1920s and 30s are sometimes called the modernist poets. Besides munchkin's e.e. cummings and Roethke, that group also included Wallace Stevens.


CY EST POURTRAICTE, MADAME STE URSULE, ET LES UNZE MILLE VIERGES

Ursula, in a garden, found
A bed of radishes.
She kneeled upon the ground
And gathered them,
With flowers around,
Blue, gold, pink, and green.

She dressed in red and gold brocade
And in the grass an offering made
Of radishes and flowers.

She said, “My dear,
Upon your altars,
I have placed
The marguerite and coquelicot,
And roses
Frail as April snow;
But here,” she said,
“Where none can see,
I make an offering, in the grass,
Of radishes and flowers.”
And then she wept
For fear the Lord would not accept.
The good Lord in His garden sought
New leaf and shadowy tinct,
And they were all His thought.
He heard her low accord,
Half prayer and half ditty,
And He felt a subtle quiver,
That was not heavenly love,
Or pity.

This is not writ
In any book.


Wallace Stevens (1879 – 1955)


[ This Message was edited by:on2002-12-22 20:28]

[Edited at 2003-10-26 04:03]
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luciab
luciab
Portuguese to English
it may not always be so, but... Jun 21, 2003

I´m a "rookie" from Brazil and joined in search for help with a much more simpler poem (smiles). Actually I´m searching for a Spanish translation of the following, from "Tulips and Chimneys":

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great
... See more
I´m a "rookie" from Brazil and joined in search for help with a much more simpler poem (smiles). Actually I´m searching for a Spanish translation of the following, from "Tulips and Chimneys":

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be--
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

Thanks!

Lucia Boldrini
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29 - poem by e.e. cummings







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