Bootstrap Framework 3.3.6

[Dear Lucy]

Čaša vode podseća te na ženu koju si želeo i nisi želeo,
za kojom si žudeo i nisi žudeo, koju si voleo i nisi voleo.
Hteo bi da naučiš da grešiš i da budeš bar malčice ono što jesi,
da se oslobodiš one zlokobne poniznosti pred nepostojanjem.
Vreme prolazi sa štapom, čuješ njegovo kucanje.
Jednom će ućutati ušavši u neku kapiju.
Da li će postojati nešto za čim ćeš žaliti?
Neka odluka koja će dokazati tvojoj svireposti
da nisi hteo da ispiješ ljubav do kraja ispijajući mora žena
jer nikada nisi uspeo da u jednoj nađeš sebe?
I ponovo pretvaraš sebe u nekog drugog
mada taj drugi u tebi ne želi da bude s tobom.
I ponovo ostaješ sam sa sobom
predajući predmetima deo svojih napora da postaneš čovek.

[Speculum Columbae]

Originally posted by bas bleu

and then going all scarlet in the face

Originally posted by AngraMaina

just like a rose

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! YOU'RE NOT FUNNY!
ATTENTION!

[bas bleu]

we beg to differ, róisín

[Orlando the Lady]

William Shakespeare - All the world's a stage (from As You Like It 2/7)

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

[bas bleu]

after irish

now that i have been short-changed
for understanding, i take my quiet leave -
my donkey awaits by the door
and we shall go wherever the bog road takes us.
behind me i leave things but few:
a handful of poems that bear her name
and, in this thatched cottage,
a marriage bed wherein she never lay.
i, who have seen all of her faces
and in all found the measure of beauty,
had all of them turn away from me
when my own betrayed a smidgen of weakness.
lorca is getting restless -
maybe he’ll take me by her house i never knew
and she’ll toss in her bed as we pass:
o should you ever happen to see her
walking the fields of galway and clare
tell her i was a beggar for kindness.

e.o'r.

[Orlando the Lady]

Bojan Vasić (1985)
iz zbirke Srča (Čačak, 2009)

to nisu samo
reči to banalno unošenje
džakova kupusa crnica
ispod noktiju i
jesen koja se
lepi za čizme

ono tuširanje
potom
zaista spira umor

mlaz je opipljiv i mek
kao bilo šta dok uvire
u jezik

on je toplo sećanje na
dodir ili tečna
raspupelost tkiva

sasvim sam siguran da
na svoj tih neprevodiv
način postoje kamenac
ulomljene pločice
sapun i potmuli odjek
vode u
ponovnom čitanju šuštanje
ovih frikativa

[Orlando the Lady]

Ana Ristovic


TEMPI PASSATI

(strah od 33-e)


U razgovorima će biti sve više budućnosti,

a sve manje vremena. Padaće sve same

sugestije za lakše, ali ne i za bolje.


A ulazeći, svakodnevno, u svoj stan,

ulazićeš sve više u spomenar. Ovde

one cipele. Promenjeni su samo đonovi.


A đon, čak i kada je bivši, pamti ulice.

Ako ne pamti đon, pamti jezik cipele.

Danas nešto pričljiviji od tebe. Kao i pertla...

Ali, i pertle se prodaju u paru.


Tamo gumeni dušek čija punoća

zavisi od dubine tvog daha.

I je li to vazduh, od prošlog leta,

čega u njemu malo ima. Ili uzdah.


Onde konopac za sušenje veša.

Čak i on, razapet, danas stoji

pred tobom kao naplatna rampa.


Ako ništa drugo, stvari te pamte:

na fotografijama za ličnu kartu

već ličiš na ubicu mekog srca.


Zajedno sa pogledom,

oštre se i crte lica.

I samo tuđe naklonosti

dodaju sfumato.


A ulazeći, svakodnevno, u svoj stan,

ulazićeš sve više u spomenar. Možda

i u herbarijum: biti detelina, sa četiri lista,

nečija, želećeš sve češće. Duže.


Makar i presovana.

Sa četiri lista,

u suvom nagoveštaju.


Tako je meko u kravljoj gubici,

pravovremena plodnost zemljišta

ionako spada u tempi passati.

[bas bleu]

to the bridge

the same bridge, in fact, where it had occurred to
him that the so-called manic street preachers, for all
their hyperventilation and sulphuric aftershave,
were neither frenzied, credible or remotely
evangelical, just as the so-called red hot chilli
peppers, for all their encouraging ingredients, were
actually no warmer than a baby’s bathwater and not
in the least bit diablo, whereas the teardrop
explodes, either by blind accident or through
careful purpose had kept every promise they ever made.
below him, the soupy canal acknowledged that final
thought with an anointing ripple then slouched
unknowingly yet profusely onwards.

s.a.

[Orlando the Lady]

Borislav Radović
Život vina

Po nedeljnom ručku, dok propadamo u san,
vlasišta mokrih od varenja i od žege,
otac bi ušao u vinograd i tu se
bavio do mraka, okružen čokotima;
redio bi lišće, razgledao grozdove,
pucad krupniju od bibera,
i mislio o novom vinu.

Danas pretačem vino iz njegove misli;
dižem ga, žuto, svetlucavo, prema oknu:
da kroza nj promakne prašnjavo sunce. I znam
čim žmirnu zimska okca i suknu lastari,
zamutiće se ono, živo.
Kao da se nije ni prekidala veza
među peteljkom i kolencem,
biće opet u dosluhu ovoga leta
vino u podrumu, u plesnivim bocama,
i Sunčev korak gluhotom nebeskih kuća.

Vino, slično zvezdi, opisuje putanju
kojom bi se možda i otac otisnuo,
stojeći bez daha od kašlja, prazna oka
i tanak, kao u tuđoj košulji;
zadubljen, dalek i sopstvenoj misli.

[Orlando the Lady]

Raša Livada


SINAGOGA

u tom sićušnom božijem uhu
nigde žive duše
samo miševi grickaju
gnjili trapist svetlosti
i sve je pusto
kao usta
što su zaboravila da ljube
i prevrnut vagon
krcat gustom otrovnom tišinom

po ozidima svud ispisano

AKO TE ZABORAVIM GRADE
NEKA DESNICA
NEKA LEVICA
USAHNE
NEKA LEVICA USAHNE
I NEKA SEME
UTRNE

[smaug]

Bilo je proleće, mesec maj,

drveće se prelilo zelenim kremom,

bez posla je ostao jedan zmaj

sa visokom zmajevskom stručnom spremom.



Motao se neko vreme po gradu,

čitao oglase i konkurse iz štampe,

zmaj koji je uživao u svome radu,

izgubio se ko svitac bez lampe.



Počeo je da pije vinjak i sodicu,

da se snalazi i prodeva,

jer je imao veliku porodicu

koju je morao da hrani i odeva.



Kiše su padale, dani su tekli,

kucao je na sto vrata, možda dvesta,

i svuda su mu neljubazno rekli

da za njega nema radnog mesta.



I mada je svuda izbačen ko kofer

naglo mu se osmehnula sreća:

ponudiše mu da radi kao šofer

kod Gradskog saobraćajnog preduzeća.



Opet je proleće, mesec maj,

na drveću pupe zelene čumice,

za volanom "Laylanda" sedi zmaj

na liniji Kalemegdan - Šumice.



Kad uveće dotera kola u garažu,

kolege o njemu pričaju sve naj, naj,

ali mu je najdraže kada kažu:

- E, danas si vozio kao pravi zmaj!

[bas bleu]

^

branding foals

and when she comes she’ll stand beside the herd
holding a halter while i lay the brand
on colt and filly; she’ll not speak a word,
but with her face like a dark wood she’ll stand.
her eyes upon the cairn where they’ll graze
her colt and fillies on the hilly waste,
she will not turn to me with look or word.

why do i look for fire to brand these foals,
what do i need when all around is fire?
and now she comes, carrying the lighted coals
and branding-tool – she who is my desire.
what need have i for what is in her hands?
if i lay hand upon a hide, it brands,
and grass and trees and hedges all are fire.

padraic colum

[Speculum Columbae]

''

Back through the years
I go wonderin' once again
Back to the seasons of my youth
I recall a box of rags that someone gave us
And how my momma put the rags to use
There were rags of many colors
Every piece was small
And I didn't have a coat
And it was way down in the fall
Momma sewed the rags together
Sewin every piece with love
She made my coat of many colors
That I was so proud of
As she sewed, she told a story
From the bible, she had read
About a coat of many colors
Joseph wore and then she said
Perhaps this coat will bring you
Good luck and happiness
And I just couldnt wait to wear it
And momma blessed it with a kiss

My coat of many colors
That my momma made for me
Made only from rags
But I wore it so proudly
Although we had no money
I was rich as I could be
In my coat of many colors
My momma made for me

So with patches on my britches
Holes in both my shoes
In my coat of many colors
I hurried off to school
Just to find the others laughing
And making fun of me
In my coat of many colors
My momma made for me

And oh I couldnt understand it
For I felt I was rich
And I told them of the love
My momma sewed in every stitch
And I told em all the story
Momma told me while she sewed
And how my coat of many colors
Was worth more than all their clothes

But they didn't understand it
And I tried to make them see
That one is only poor
Only if they choose to be
Now I know we had no money
But I was rich as I could be
In my coat of many colors
My momma made for me
Made just for me

[Speculum Columbae]

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

[Speculum Columbae]

Non al suo amante piú Dïana piacque,
quando per tal ventura tutta ignuda
la vide in mezzo de le gelide acque,

ch’a me la pastorella alpestra et cruda
5posta a bagnar un leggiadretto velo,
ch’a l’aura il vago et biondo capel chiuda,

tal che mi fece, or quand’egli arde ’l cielo,
tutto tremar d’un amoroso gielo.

[Speculum Columbae]

From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,



For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.



Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”
Merely this, and nothing more.



Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore.”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”



“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”



“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

[Misfit]

Talking In Bed
by Philip Larkin

Talking in bed ought to be easiest
Lying together there goes back so far
An emblem of two people being honest.

Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside the wind's incomplete unrest
builds and disperses clouds about the sky.

And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation

It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind
Or not untrue and not unkind.


High Windows
by Philip Larkin

When I see a couple of kids
And guess he’s fucking her and she’s
Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,
I know this is paradise

Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives—
Bonds and gestures pushed to one side
Like an outdated combine harvester,
And everyone young going down the long slide

To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That’ll be the life;
No God any more, or sweating in the dark

About hell and that, or having to hide
What you think of the priest. He
And his lot will all go down the long slide
Like free bloody birds. And immediately

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

[bas bleu]

^another larkin lover

padni mi na grudi!

[Misfit]

raširi ruke, eto me skačem na te!

[bas bleu]

[Misfit]

[bas bleu]

comeclose and sleepnow

it is afterwards
and you talk on tiptoe
happy to be part
of the darkness
lips becoming limp
a prelude to tiredness.
comeclose and sleepnow
for in the morning
when a policeman
disguised as the sun
creeps into your room
and your mother
disguised as birds
calls from the trees
you will put on a dress of guilt
and shoes with broken high ideals
and refusing coffee
run
alltheway
home.

roger mcgough

[bas bleu]

for anne gregory

'never shall a young man,
thrown into despair
by those great honey-coloured
ramparts at your ear,
love you for yourself alone
and not your yellow hair.'

'but i can get a hair-dye
and set such colour there,
brown, or black, or carrot,
that young men in despair
may love me for myself alone
and not my yellow hair.'

'i heard an old religious man
but yesternight declare
that he had found a text to prove
that only god, my dear,
could love you for yourself alone
and not your yellow hair.'

w.b.y.

[Orlando the Lady]

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MkPA9ZZ ... e=youtu.be[/youtube]

[Torry]

ako neko zna gde da nadjem u pdf formatu od Sarla Bodlera-Les fleurs du mal nek javi


hvala

[Orlando the Lady]

pa vidi na SCRIBD-u


koji jezik ti je potreban? I da li ti je potrebna cela zbirka ili izbor?

ako ne nadjes tamo gde sam te uputila, javljaj da smisljamo nesto

[Torry]

Originally posted by Orlando the Lady

pa vidi na SCRIBD-u


koji jezik ti je potreban? I da li ti je potrebna cela zbirka ili izbor?

ako ne nadjes tamo gde sam te uputila, javljaj da smisljamo nesto

hocu, hvala

[bas bleu]

for a wedding

let wild birds call the banns
merlins from the hillside
sanderlings from the waves
whimbrels with seven notes
nightingales from the wood
from the treetops rooks
from your own back garden
blue tit, robin, wren.

'i give you this bouquet
of saxifrage sneezewort
spurge ragged robin
asphodel lords-and-ladies.'

'for your buttonhole i
have braided loosestrife
and self-heal and eyebright
and speedwell and speedwell.'

michael longley

[Orlando the Lady]

Originally posted by Torry
hocu, hvala

dobila sam poljubac u usta!

[Torry]

Originally posted by Orlando the Lady

Originally posted by Torry
hocu, hvala

dobila sam poljubac u usta!

pa zasluzila si


ont: nasla sam na francuskom i na srpskom