tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56432938759450973322011-07-08T01:55:39.889-07:00A poem should not mean but be.araucanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02734408832988998062noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5643293875945097332.post-14678109529016573302009-09-16T05:44:00.000-07:002009-09-16T05:57:32.554-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MsNmjMOhg9c/SrDfxA3gdLI/AAAAAAAAAAU/jECcqeo5iXY/s1600-h/aff5c7d86cebfb7e617369e83fe3d2137b91fd75_m.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 318px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382047587847140530" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MsNmjMOhg9c/SrDfxA3gdLI/AAAAAAAAAAU/jECcqeo5iXY/s320/aff5c7d86cebfb7e617369e83fe3d2137b91fd75_m.jpg" /></a><br /><br />i carry your heart with me(i carry it in<br />my heart)i am never without it(anywhere<br />i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done<br />by only me is your doing,my darling)<br /> i fear<br />no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want<br />no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)<br />and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant<br />and whatever a sun will always sing is you<br /><br />here is the deepest secret nobody knows<br />(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud<br />and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows<br />higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)<br />and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart<br />i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">e.e.cummings, 1958</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5643293875945097332-1467810952901657330?l=arbollluvia.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>araucanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02734408832988998062noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5643293875945097332.post-22618207002825083972009-09-07T15:51:00.000-07:002009-09-07T16:10:24.316-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MsNmjMOhg9c/SqWO2w4vMoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f1AvQaMj7HQ/s1600-h/9c0dac015b9dfe3227e2bfd2091eb05afa6325b1_m.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378862401450881666" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MsNmjMOhg9c/SqWO2w4vMoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f1AvQaMj7HQ/s320/9c0dac015b9dfe3227e2bfd2091eb05afa6325b1_m.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div><br />Πριν σε γνωρίσω τίποτα δεν ήταν </div><div>δικό μου: όλο βολόδερνα στους δρόμους:</div><div>τίποτα αξία κι όνομα δεν είχε:</div><div>έλπιζε ο κόσμος μόνο στον αέρα.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>Είχα γνωρίσει σταχτερά σαλόνια, </div><div>τούνελ κατοικημένα απ' το φεγγάρι,</div><div>στέγαστρα άπονα που αποχαιρετιόνταν,</div><div>ερωτήσεις που επέμεναν στην άμμο.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>Βουβά ήταν όλα, πεθαμένα κι άδεια,</div><div>πεσμένα, ξεπεσμένα κι αφημένα,</div><div>ήταν αναλλοτρίωτα όλα ξένα,<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>όλα ήταν κανενός κι όλα των άλλων,</div><div>ώσπου η φτώχεια σου κι ώσπου η ομορφιά σου</div><div>γεμίσαν το φθινόπωρο με δώρα.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Πάμπλο Νερούδα, Εκατό ερωτικά σονέτα, μτφρ. Ηλία Ματθαίου</span> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5643293875945097332-2261820700282508397?l=arbollluvia.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>araucanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02734408832988998062noreply@blogger.com0