dangermousie: (MoL feet by ameyadevi)
I really love this poem, and it's an excellent translation.

******

I love you now, in fact,
And I don't hold it back.
It's not "before", not "after" - your rays set me afire.
Whether I weep or I smile
I love you in this while,-
the future I don't want, the past I don't desire.

"I loved you" (in the past)
is worse than breathing last.
My wings are cut, and I'm restrained by tender feeling,
although the greatest poet stated once:
"I was in love with you - my love may still be living"…

As if it were disavowed, faded,
for it implies compassion, condescension,
it's what one feels for overthrown kings.
There is regret in it for something outdated,
subsided striving, softened aspiration
and disbelief in "love you" kind of things.

My current love has got
no detriment, no spot.
My age is under way - I want no venesection!
At this continuous present I do not
live in the past nor dream of future foundation.

Through thick and thin I'll get
to you somehow, you bet! -
my feet put into chains and bound with heavy irons.
But when I say "I love you", even yet
don't make me add "I will", by error or with bias.

"I will" has got a bitter connotation,
for it implies a counterfeit, decay - unpleasant,
a loophole for retreating, anyhow,
insipid poison and contamination,
slap in the face, affront upon the present,
a doubt that I really love you now.

I dream my dream in French,
it has a wide tense range,
the future and the past are different from ours.
I'm pilloried, disgraced and outraged,
The language seems to set me at defiance.

The language gap, oh my!
I'm about to cry !
Yet we can work it out, we have our firm intentions.
I love you at the times which will comply
with Future, Past and Present Perfect tenses.

Russian text behind cut )

You can find more Here.

I think this was written for his third (last) wife, who was French.

ETA: Yup, confirmed. Here is a pic of her: here.
dangermousie: (MoL feet by ameyadevi)
I really love this poem, and it's an excellent translation.

******

I love you now, in fact,
And I don't hold it back.
It's not "before", not "after" - your rays set me afire.
Whether I weep or I smile
I love you in this while,-
the future I don't want, the past I don't desire.

"I loved you" (in the past)
is worse than breathing last.
My wings are cut, and I'm restrained by tender feeling,
although the greatest poet stated once:
"I was in love with you - my love may still be living"…

As if it were disavowed, faded,
for it implies compassion, condescension,
it's what one feels for overthrown kings.
There is regret in it for something outdated,
subsided striving, softened aspiration
and disbelief in "love you" kind of things.

My current love has got
no detriment, no spot.
My age is under way - I want no venesection!
At this continuous present I do not
live in the past nor dream of future foundation.

Through thick and thin I'll get
to you somehow, you bet! -
my feet put into chains and bound with heavy irons.
But when I say "I love you", even yet
don't make me add "I will", by error or with bias.

"I will" has got a bitter connotation,
for it implies a counterfeit, decay - unpleasant,
a loophole for retreating, anyhow,
insipid poison and contamination,
slap in the face, affront upon the present,
a doubt that I really love you now.

I dream my dream in French,
it has a wide tense range,
the future and the past are different from ours.
I'm pilloried, disgraced and outraged,
The language seems to set me at defiance.

The language gap, oh my!
I'm about to cry !
Yet we can work it out, we have our firm intentions.
I love you at the times which will comply
with Future, Past and Present Perfect tenses.

Russian text behind cut )

You can find more Here.

I think this was written for his third (last) wife, who was French.

ETA: Yup, confirmed. Here is a pic of her: here.
dangermousie: (MoL feet by ameyadevi)
I really love this poem, and it's an excellent translation.

******

I love you now, in fact,
And I don't hold it back.
It's not "before", not "after" - your rays set me afire.
Whether I weep or I smile
I love you in this while,-
the future I don't want, the past I don't desire.

"I loved you" (in the past)
is worse than breathing last.
My wings are cut, and I'm restrained by tender feeling,
although the greatest poet stated once:
"I was in love with you - my love may still be living"…

As if it were disavowed, faded,
for it implies compassion, condescension,
it's what one feels for overthrown kings.
There is regret in it for something outdated,
subsided striving, softened aspiration
and disbelief in "love you" kind of things.

My current love has got
no detriment, no spot.
My age is under way - I want no venesection!
At this continuous present I do not
live in the past nor dream of future foundation.

Through thick and thin I'll get
to you somehow, you bet! -
my feet put into chains and bound with heavy irons.
But when I say "I love you", even yet
don't make me add "I will", by error or with bias.

"I will" has got a bitter connotation,
for it implies a counterfeit, decay - unpleasant,
a loophole for retreating, anyhow,
insipid poison and contamination,
slap in the face, affront upon the present,
a doubt that I really love you now.

I dream my dream in French,
it has a wide tense range,
the future and the past are different from ours.
I'm pilloried, disgraced and outraged,
The language seems to set me at defiance.

The language gap, oh my!
I'm about to cry !
Yet we can work it out, we have our firm intentions.
I love you at the times which will comply
with Future, Past and Present Perfect tenses.

Russian text behind cut )

You can find more Here.

I think this was written for his third (last) wife, who was French.

ETA: Yup, confirmed. Here is a pic of her: here.
dangermousie: (Tokyo Juliet by winterspel)
Finished ep 3 of Tokyo Juliet (I am going a bit slow with this one because of dling). OMG. So delicious. And not just because Sui is so tiny and Liang is tall and broad-shouldered which is totally my kink when it comes to fictional couples.

But the aaaaangst. How could I not love a drama that has lines like (Sui thinking): "Your gentleness is such cruelty to me." And fashion-themed revenge. TJ ep 3 thoughts )

And in other news of angsty couples, here is one of my favorite poems ever. Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman:"

I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat. )

And in order to convince anyone remotely interested in watching Silence to watch it, here is a trailer for it, this time with subs:

[Error: unknown template video]

Trailer, part II )
dangermousie: (Tokyo Juliet by winterspel)
Finished ep 3 of Tokyo Juliet (I am going a bit slow with this one because of dling). OMG. So delicious. And not just because Sui is so tiny and Liang is tall and broad-shouldered which is totally my kink when it comes to fictional couples.

But the aaaaangst. How could I not love a drama that has lines like (Sui thinking): "Your gentleness is such cruelty to me." And fashion-themed revenge. TJ ep 3 thoughts )

And in other news of angsty couples, here is one of my favorite poems ever. Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman:"

I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat. )

And in order to convince anyone remotely interested in watching Silence to watch it, here is a trailer for it, this time with subs:

[Error: unknown template video]

Trailer, part II )
dangermousie: (Tokyo Juliet by winterspel)
Finished ep 3 of Tokyo Juliet (I am going a bit slow with this one because of dling). OMG. So delicious. And not just because Sui is so tiny and Liang is tall and broad-shouldered which is totally my kink when it comes to fictional couples.

But the aaaaangst. How could I not love a drama that has lines like (Sui thinking): "Your gentleness is such cruelty to me." And fashion-themed revenge. TJ ep 3 thoughts )

And in other news of angsty couples, here is one of my favorite poems ever. Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman:"

I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat. )

And in order to convince anyone remotely interested in watching Silence to watch it, here is a trailer for it, this time with subs:

[Error: unknown template video]

Trailer, part II )
dangermousie: (Zoe)
Today is Armistice Day, the day World War I ended.

And because of it, I am stealing [livejournal.com profile] queenofthorns's excellent idea and posting some poems by World War I poets (specifically Sigfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. I find Sassoon's poems angry, where Owen's are sad) behind the cut. Do read them: they are amazing and powerful and all those other cliche words which are utterly inadequate. My junior year of college I discovered WWI poets and printed a whole stack of their poems and papered my closet doors with them because I wanted to be able to read bits during the day. Needless to say, it made my room look a bit odd.

Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness. )

In more frivolous news, I have one of my best friends visiting with her brand-new boyfriend for the weekend. And she asked me if my place was clean (we lived together for 2 years, so she knows about my love of mess) so I decided to be a considerate friend and not scare off the boyfriend and thus ended up doing a huge clean-up during the week and to cap it off hired MaidPro to clean the rest. I don't even recognize it now, it's so clean: the kitchen is gleaming for the first time in...ever. I love it. I should have visitors more often!
dangermousie: (Zoe)
Today is Armistice Day, the day World War I ended.

And because of it, I am stealing [livejournal.com profile] queenofthorns's excellent idea and posting some poems by World War I poets (specifically Sigfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. I find Sassoon's poems angry, where Owen's are sad) behind the cut. Do read them: they are amazing and powerful and all those other cliche words which are utterly inadequate. My junior year of college I discovered WWI poets and printed a whole stack of their poems and papered my closet doors with them because I wanted to be able to read bits during the day. Needless to say, it made my room look a bit odd.

Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness. )

In more frivolous news, I have one of my best friends visiting with her brand-new boyfriend for the weekend. And she asked me if my place was clean (we lived together for 2 years, so she knows about my love of mess) so I decided to be a considerate friend and not scare off the boyfriend and thus ended up doing a huge clean-up during the week and to cap it off hired MaidPro to clean the rest. I don't even recognize it now, it's so clean: the kitchen is gleaming for the first time in...ever. I love it. I should have visitors more often!
dangermousie: (Zoe)
Today is Armistice Day, the day World War I ended.

And because of it, I am stealing [livejournal.com profile] queenofthorns's excellent idea and posting some poems by World War I poets (specifically Sigfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. I find Sassoon's poems angry, where Owen's are sad) behind the cut. Do read them: they are amazing and powerful and all those other cliche words which are utterly inadequate. My junior year of college I discovered WWI poets and printed a whole stack of their poems and papered my closet doors with them because I wanted to be able to read bits during the day. Needless to say, it made my room look a bit odd.

Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness. )

In more frivolous news, I have one of my best friends visiting with her brand-new boyfriend for the weekend. And she asked me if my place was clean (we lived together for 2 years, so she knows about my love of mess) so I decided to be a considerate friend and not scare off the boyfriend and thus ended up doing a huge clean-up during the week and to cap it off hired MaidPro to clean the rest. I don't even recognize it now, it's so clean: the kitchen is gleaming for the first time in...ever. I love it. I should have visitors more often!
dangermousie: (Simon and Kaylee guns by gunneralchemist)
Rossetti is much more known as a painter, and he was a brilliant painter. But I also love his poems. In fact, my very favorite poem is a DG Rossetti one, and is the quote of the day:

NUPTIAL SLEEP
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:
And as the last slow sudden drops are shed
From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,
So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start
Of married flowers to either side outspread
From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red,
Fawned on each other where they lay apart.

Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.
Slowly their souls swam up again, through gleams
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Till from some wonder of new woods and streams
He woke, and wondered more: for there she lay.

4 more DG Rossetti poems )
dangermousie: (Simon and Kaylee guns by gunneralchemist)
Rossetti is much more known as a painter, and he was a brilliant painter. But I also love his poems. In fact, my very favorite poem is a DG Rossetti one, and is the quote of the day:

NUPTIAL SLEEP
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:
And as the last slow sudden drops are shed
From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,
So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start
Of married flowers to either side outspread
From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red,
Fawned on each other where they lay apart.

Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.
Slowly their souls swam up again, through gleams
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Till from some wonder of new woods and streams
He woke, and wondered more: for there she lay.

4 more DG Rossetti poems )
dangermousie: (Simon and Kaylee guns by gunneralchemist)
Rossetti is much more known as a painter, and he was a brilliant painter. But I also love his poems. In fact, my very favorite poem is a DG Rossetti one, and is the quote of the day:

NUPTIAL SLEEP
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:
And as the last slow sudden drops are shed
From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,
So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start
Of married flowers to either side outspread
From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red,
Fawned on each other where they lay apart.

Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.
Slowly their souls swam up again, through gleams
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Till from some wonder of new woods and streams
He woke, and wondered more: for there she lay.

4 more DG Rossetti poems )

Profile

dangermousie: (Default)
dangermousie

November 2012

S M T W T F S
     1 2 3
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 09:53 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios