Rhyme - Robert Pinsky
Air an instrument of the tongue, The tongue an instrument Of the body, the body An instrument of spirit, The spirit a being of the air. A bird the medium of its song. A song a world, a containment Like a hotel room, ready For us guests who inherit Our compartment of time there. In the Cornell box, among Ephemera as its element, The preserved bird--a study In spontaneous elegy, the parrot Art, mortal in its cornered sphere. The room a stanza rung In laddered filament Clambered by all the unsteady Chambered voices that share it, Each reciting I too was here-- In a room, a rhyme, a song. In the box, in books: each element An instrument, the body Still straining to parrot The spirit, a being of air. notes: http://quarterlyconversation.com/robert-pinsky-selected-poems |
Innocents We - Paul Verlaine
Translated by Norman R. Shapiro Their long skirts and high heels battled away: Depending on the ground’s and breezes’ whim, At times some stocking shone, low on the limb-- Too soon concealed!—tickling our naïveté. At times, as well, an envious bug would bite Our lovelies’ necks beneath the boughs, and we Would glimpse a flash—white flash, ah! ecstasy!-- And glut our mad young eyes on sheer delight. Evening would fall, the autumn day would draw To its uncertain close: our belles would cling Dreamingly to us, cooing, whispering Lies that still set our souls trembling with awe. notes and other poems: https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/French/Verlaine.php |
Les Fenêtres - Stéphane Mallarmé
He sees, on the horizon filled with light, Golden galleons as lovely as swans, Moored on a broad river of scented purple. I can see my reflection like that of an angel! And I feel that I am dying, and, through the medium Of art or of mystical experience, I want to be reborn, Wearing my dream like a diadem, in some better land Where beauty flourishes. notes: https://wildedecadents.wordpress.com/2012/12/01/a-few-remarks-on-mallarmes-poems-les-fenetres-the-windows-and-lazur-the-azure/ |