TIGblogs - Marius

Patrick Rochon – Light Painting Master

I love you for all the women I haven't known
I love you for all the times in which I haven't lived
For the scent of the wide open spaces and the smell of hot bread
For the melting snow and for the first flowers
For the innocent animals which haven't been frightened by man
I love you to love
I love you for all the women I don't love

Who reflects me if not you yourself-I see myself so little
Without you I see nothing but an empty space
Between those other times and today
There have been all those deaths that I have crossed on straw
I have not been able to break through the wall of my mirror
I've had to learn life word by word
How one forgets

I love you for all the wisdom, which is not mine
For health
I love you against everything which is only illusion
For that immortal heart over which I have no power
You think that you are doubt but you're just reason
You are the powerful sun that rushes to my head
When I am sure of myself

Poetry - Paul Éluard

Volim te za sve zene koje nisam upoznao
Volim te za sva vremena u kojima nisam zivio
Zbog mirisa velike pucine i mirisa topla hleba
Zbog snijega sto se topi i prvih cvjetova
Zbog cednih zivotinja kojih se covjek ne plasi
Volim te zbog voljenja
Volim te zbog svih zena koje ne volim

Jedino u tebi ja se dobro vidim
Bez tebe ne vidim nista nego siroku pustos
Izmedju nekad i danas
Postojale su sve te smrti sto sam ih
ostavio za plotom
Nisam mogao probiti zid svog ogledala
Morao sam uciti zivot slovo po slovo
Kako se zaboravlja

Volim te zbog tvoje mudrosti koja nije moja
Zbog zdravlja
Volim te uprkos svim obmanama
Zbog tog besmrtnog srca sto ga ne zadrzavam
Ti mislis da si sumlja a nisi nego razum
Ti si veliko sunce sto mi na glavu sjeda
Kad sam siguran u sebe samog.

poezija -Paul Éluard

creative art pictures by kellyjerk - Photobucket

Ukrašću tvoju senku, obući je na sebe i pokazivati svima.
Bićeš moj način odevanja svega nežnog i tajnog.
Pa i onda, kad dotraješ,
iskrzanu, izbledelu, neću te sa sebe skidati.
Na meni ćeš se raspasti.
Jer ti si jedini način da pokrijem golotinju ove detinje duše.
I da se više ne stidim pred biljem i pred pticama.
Na poderanim mestima zajedno ćemo plakati.
Zašivaću te vetrom.
Posle ću, znam, pobrkati moju kožu s tvojom.
Ne znam da li meshvataš: to nije prožimanje.
To je umivanje tobom.
Ljubav je čišćenje nekim.
Ljubav je nečiji miris, sav izatkan po nama.
Tetoviranje maštom.
Evo, silazi sumrak, i svet postaje hladniji.
Ti si moj način toplog.
Obući ću te na sebe da se, ovako pokipeo, ne prehladim od studeni svog straha i samoće.

poem by -

Miroslav Antic

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Now thou hast loved me one whole day,

To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou say ?

Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow ?

Or say that now

We are not just those persons which we were ?

Or that oaths made in reverential fear

Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear ?

Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,

So lovers' contracts, images of those,

Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose ?

Or, your own end to justify,

For having purposed change and falsehood, you

Can have no way but falsehood to be true ?

Vain lunatic, against these 'scapes I could

Dispute, and conquer, if I would ;

Which I abstain to do,

For by to-morrow I may think so too.

a poem by John Donne

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

a poem by Christina Rossetti

The keen stars were twinkling,

And the fair moon was rising among them,

Dear Jane.

The guitar was tinkling,

But the notes were not sweet till you sung them

Again.

As the moon's soft splendour

O'er the faint cold starlight of Heaven

Is thrown,

So your voice most tender

To the strings without soul had then given

Its own.

The stars will awaken,T

hough the moon sleep a full hour later

To-night;

No leaf will be shaken

Whilst the dews of your melody scatter

Delight.

Though the sound overpowers,

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing

A tone

Of some world far from ours,

Where music and moonlight and feeling

Are one.

a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

To drift with every passion till my soul

Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,

Is it for this that I have given away

Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?

Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll

Scrawled over on some boyish holiday

With idle songs for pipe and virelay,

Which do but mar the secret of the whole.

Surely there was a time I might have trod

The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance

Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God.

Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod

I did but touch the honey of romance

And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

a poem by Oscar Wilde

Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!

Your slender attitude
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,
Rolling and rolling there
Where God seems not to care;
Till the fierce Love they bear
Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.

Your voice sings not so soft, --
Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft, --
Your dear voice is not dear,
Gentle, and evening clear,
As theirs whom none now hear
Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.

Heart, you were never hot,
Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;
And though your hand be pale,
Paler are all which trail
Your cross through flame and hail:
Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.

Poetry of Wilfred Owen

Off with sleep, love, up from bed,
This fair morn;
See, for our eyes the rosy red
New dawn is born;
Now that skies are glad and gay
In this gracious month of May,
Love me, sweet,
Fill my joy in brimming measure,
In this world he hath no pleasure,
That will none of it.

Come, love, through the woods of spring,
Come walk with me;
Listen, the sweet birds jargoning
From tree to tree.
List and listen, over all
Nightingale most musical
That ceases never;
Grief begone, and let us be
For a space as glad as he;
Time's flitting ever.

Old Time, that loves not lovers, wears
Wings swift in flight;
All our happy life he bears
Far in the night.
Old and wrinkled on a day,
Sad and weary shall you say,
'Ah, fool was I,
That took no pleasure in the grace
Of the flower that from my face
Time has seen die.'

Leave then sorrow, teen, and tears
Till we be old;
Young we are, and of our years
Till youth be cold
Pluck the flower; while spring is gay
In this happy month of May,
Love me, love;
Fill our joy in brimming measure;
In this world he hath no pleasure
That will none thereof.

Poem of Jean Passerat

Od tebe sam otišao, i svu ljubav prema tebi
Iz srca sam svoga zauvijek iščupao
Ali, jao! Tko može prkositi svom udesu?
I ja opet, kao nekad, ludo čeznem za tobom

Kuda god bih prolazio putem samotnim,
Ja sam znao, da zaboraviti tebe ne mogu,
Negdašnja mi čežnja uvijek pali srce
I ti si opet sa mnom, uvijek i svuda

Tako sam te silno i duboko volio,
Da se danas, eto, u užasnu mržnju
Pretvorio moj plamen ljubavni
I sada mi peče dušu dubokom i silnom ljubavi

I zbog toga me, draga, ako hoćeš kori ili mi pak oprosti,
Ali na moj užas, ja sam sreo tebe:
I kao divnu ružu na grudi te htjedoh uzeti,
Al' umjesto ruže-ti bodež mi u srce usadi

poezija -Muhamed Al Asmar

Draga, makar je prošla noć
San njen još i danas oko nas kruži,
Onaj što nas donese u sobu
Duboku uzvišenu kao
Posljednja željeznička stanica,
A nagomilani u sjeti toj
Kreveti su bili, i mi u jednom
Što ležao je u dalekom kutu.
Naš šapat ne probudi ure,
Ljubismo se i radostan bjeh
Zbog svega što si uradila,
Ravnodušan na one
Koji su sjedili s neprijateljskim očima
U parovima na svakom krevetu,
S rukama oko vrata,
Tromi i nejasno tužni.
Kakvog pokopanog crva krivnje
Il', kakve zloćudne sumnje
Ja sam žrtva,
Zar si tad besramnoUčinila ono što nikad nisam htio,
Priznala ljubav drugu;
A ja, ponizan, osjetih
Da sam neželjen i izađoh?

Wystan Hugh Auden

When I am sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone. When I walk along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on .

Adrian Mitchell

Koji smo danas dan
Mi smo svi dani
Prijateljice moja
Mi smo citav život
Ljubavi moja
Mi se volimo i mi živimo
A ne znamo šta je to život
I ne znamo šta je to dan
I ne znamo šta je to ljubav

Poezija - Žak Prever

Gustav Klimt

Oh I wish so much you would remember
those happy days when we were friends.
Life in those times was so much brighter
and the sun was hotter than today.
Dead leaves picked up by the shovelful.
You see, I have not forgotten.
Dead leaves picked up by the shovelful,
memories and regrets also,
and the North wind carries them away
into the cold night of oblivion.
You see, I have not forgotten
the song that you sang for me:
It is a song resembling us.
We lived together, the both of us,
you who loved me
and I who loved you.
But life drives apart those who love
ever so softly
without a noise
and the sea erases from the sand
the steps of lovers gone their ways.

Poetry -

Jacques Prévert