annie

On the shores of Texas
Between Mobile and Galveston there is
A great garden filled with roses
There is also a villa
Which is one huge rose

A woman passes often
In the garden alone
And when I pace the road edged with lime trees
Our eyes meet

As she is a Mennonite
Her rose trees and her garments have no buttons
My jacket’s missing two
That lady and I observe almost the same rite

Guillaume Apollinaire

Advertisements

the horse

He comes through the streets
under the full moon,
a horse killed
in an ancient battle.

His dull hooves. . .
he trembles, he slips,
gives a gloomy neigh
with his distant voice.

At the leaden corner
of the barricade
he stops with empty eyes
and horror.

Later one
can hear his slow tread,
through deserted streets
and through ruined squares.

José María Eguren

rivers

With the Rhine, the Rhone, the Ebro,
my eyes are filled.
With the Tiber, the Thames,
the Volga, the Danube,
my eyes are filled.

But I know the Plata,
and I know the Amazon bathes.
But I know the Mississippi,
and I know the Magdalena bathes.
I know the Almendares,
and I know the San Lorenzo bathes.
I know the Orinoco,
I know they bathe lands of bitter slime where my voice blooms,
and languid jungles chained by bloody roots.
America, I drink from your cup,
from your tin cup,
great rivers of tears!
Oh, leave me, leave me,
leave me now
…close to the water.

Nicolás Cristóbal Guillén Batista

as long as your eyes are blue

Wilt thou love me, sweet, when my hair is grey,
And my cheeks shall have lost their hue?
When the charms of youth shall have passed away,
Will your love as of old prove true?
For the looks may change, and the heart may range,
And the love be no longer fond;
Wilt thou love with truth in the years of youth
And away to the years beyond?

Oh, I love you, sweet, for your locks of brown
And the blush on your cheek that lies —
But I love you most for the kindly heart
That I see in your sweet blue eyes —
For the eyes are signs of the soul within,
Of the heart that is real and true,
And mine own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.

For the locks may bleach, and the cheeks of peach
May be reft of their golden hue;
But mine own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.

Banjo Peterson

zen flavor

visions of grandeur are vain,
the truth we search for is to be found
in the simple things before our eyes…

epigram

Your sparkling eyes, Lycinus, what divine
Beauties! Call them rather fiery rays.
I cannot, facing you, sustain with mine
Momentarily your blazing gaze.

Strato