понеделник, 13 март 2017 г.


   Хей, другари. Днес ще пиша малко по-различен пост от досегашните ми. Ще споделям поезия. Ще ви споделя мои любими поеми, стихотворения или части от такива. Идеята ми хрумна преди 5 минути, буквално. На света има толкова красиви творби, които може би няма да намерите без някой да ви ги покаже. Така например една колежка ме светна за Джон Кийтс, чиито произведения ще видите по-долу. Някои от нещата, които ще споделя са анонимни, други не са. Важното е, че са побутнали романтичната ми страна, че да направя пост за тях. Е, enjoy. 

 Broadway, Here I Come

I'm high above the city
I'm standing on the ledge
The view from here is pretty
And I step off the ledge 

And now I'm falling, baby, through the sky, through the sky
I'm falling, baby, through the sky
It's my calling, baby, don't you cry, don't you cry
I'm falling down through the sky

Toward the street that I'm from
 Oh Broadway, here I come

In Silence Sealed 

The human heart has hidden treasures
In secret kept, in silence sealed
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures
Whose charms were broken if revealed

-Charlottе Bronte

Sleeping soldiers
Greyness covers
The Rows of boys
As they lie together
In silent rows

A string of skeletons
Their names etched
In book of sorrow
The book of death

Violence their last memory
As they sleep in deadly peace

Ship the next batch of boys
Overseas, and clear a space
Where their graves will be
In the ancient yard of misery

-Christy Ann Martine

Can Death Be Sleep, 
When Life Is But A Dream 

Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die. 

How strange it is that man on Earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path, nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to wake.  

-John Keats

From "Ode to Apollo"

The passions- a terrific band-
And each vibrates the string
That with its tyrant temper best accords...
Then o'ver the strings his fingers gently move,
And melt the soul to pity and to love  
-John Keats 

From "To George Felton Matthew"

That I am oft in doubt whether at all
I shall again see Phoebus in the morning
Or flushed Aurora in the roseate dawning!
Or a white Naiad in a rippling stream
Or a rapt seraph in a moonlight beam
Or again witness what with thee I've seen
The dew by fairy feetswept from the green
After a night of some quaint jubilee
Which every elf and fay had come to see
When bright processions took their airy march
Beneath the curved moon's triumphal arch. 
-John Keats

were the 
and i was the
tree, and your words
were the fire that burned 
the best parts of 


   Мисля да приключвам. Със сигурност отново ще направя такъв пост. Много ще се радвам да споделите с коментар ваши любими творби или автори. Надявам се този тост да ви е харесал, както и произведенията най-вече. Чао от мен, и приятна вечер.  


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