Archive for May, 2007

i carry your heart with me…

Posted in e.e. cummings, from the heart..., poetry on May 31, 2007 by gilrang

i carry your heart with me(i carry it ineecummings
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                                                i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

(Edward Estlin Cummings)


i blow you a kiss…

Posted in from the heart..., poetry, william s. braithwaite on May 30, 2007 by gilrang

i blow you a kiss on the evening wind,
       my dear, wherever you be;
up in the north, or down in the south,
       or over the rolling sea.

i blow you a kiss, but, after the kiss,
       do you know what follows, my dear?
something the wind cannot bring to you —
       only a little tear.

(William Stanley Braithwaite)

a leave-taken – i…

Posted in from the heart..., poetry, william s. braithwaite on May 29, 2007 by gilrang

william stanley braithwaite


let there be one word more
before you go —
some sweet old thing
alas to know —
some hope you fed, some look you gave,
dead now in love’s deep grave.

so, speak- and then depart,
and I will keep
the best of you forever in my heart.
all else shall sleep
as if death came and taught them to forget.
only the best
of you shall live without regret,
within my breast.

(William Stanley Braithwaite)

you go to my head…

Posted in from the heart..., judy garland, the inner soul on May 29, 2007 by gilrang

escrita em 1939, essa canção ainda faz sucesso sempre que é tocada. a música é de joe fred coots e a letra de haven gillespie. ela foi gravada por judy garlandbillie holiday, frank sinatra, louis armstrong, art pepper, linda ronstadt e, recentemente, por rod stewart.

you go to my head and you linger like a haunting refrain,
and i find you spinning ’round in my brain
like the bubbles in a glass of champagne…

you go to my head like a sip of sparkling Burgundy brew
and i find the very mention of you
like the kicker in a julep or two…

the thrill of the thought that you might give a thought to my plea
cast a spell over me,
still i say to myself – get a hold of yourself –
can’t you see that it never can be…

you go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise,
like a summer with a thousand Julys
you intoxicate my soul with your eyes…

though i’m certain that this heart of mine
hasn’t a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance
you go to my head…

(Haven Gillespie & Joe Fred Coots)

love poem…

Posted in from the heart..., john logan, poetry on May 27, 2007 by gilrang


Last night you would not come,
and you have been gone so long.
I yearn to find you in my aging, earthen arms
again (your alchemy can change my clay to skin).
I long to turn and watch again
from my half-hidden place
the lost, beautiful slopes and fallings of your face,
the black, rich leaf of each eyelash,
fresh, beach-brightened stones of your teeth.
I want to listen as you breathe yourself to sleep
(for by our human art we mime
the sleeper til we dream).
I want to smell the dark
herb gardens of your hair – touch the thin shock
that drifts over your high brow when
you rinse it clean,
for it is so fine.
I want to hear the light,
long wind of your sigh.
But again tonight I know you will not come.
I will never feel again
your gentle, sleeping calm
from which I took
so much strength, so much of my human heart.
Because the last time
I reached to you
as you sat upon the bed
and talked, you caught both my hands
in yours and crossed them gently on my breast.
I died mimicking the dead.

(John Logan)

neue Liebe, neues Leben…

Posted in from the heart..., j.w.göethe, poetry on May 27, 2007 by gilrang


o poeta alemão johann wolfgang von göethe nasceu na cidade de frankfurt am main, em 1749. a sua extensa obra que abrange novelas, peças de teatro, filosofia, pintura e ciências o tornou referência na literatura alemã. uma de suas obras mais conhecidas é, sem dúvida, fausto, uma tragédia em que uma aposta entre deus e o diabo transforma a vida de um cidadão comum. seus poemas são, também, sonoros e cadenciados, como esse abaixo (a tradução para o inglês vai a seguir):

neue Liebe, neues Leben

Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben?
Was bedränget dich so sehr?
Welch ein fremdes, neues Leben!
Ich erkenne dich nicht mehr.
Weg ist alles, was du liebtest,
weg, warum du dich betrübtest,
weg dein Fleiß und deine Ruh —
ach, wie kamst du nur dazu!

Fesselt dich die Jugendblüte,
diese liebliche Gestalt,
dieser Blick voll Treu und Güte
mit unendlicher Gewalt?
Will ich rasch mich ihr entziehen,
mich ermannen, ihr entfliehen,
führet mich im Augenblick,
ach, mein Weg zu ihr zurück.

Und an diesem Zauberfädchen,
das sich nicht zerreißen läßt,
hält das liebe, lose Mädchen
mich so wider Willen fest:
muß in ihrem Zauberkreise
leben nun auf ihre Weise.
Die Verändrung, ach, wie groß!
Liebe ! Liebe ! laß mich los!

(Johann Wolfgang von Göethe)

[new Love, new Life
Heart, my heart, what can it mean?
What could trouble you so?
What a strange new life, it seems!
You, I no longer know.
Everything you loved is done,
Everything that grieved you,
All your work and peace is gone –
How could this overtake you!

Are you caught by lovely youth
By that beloved form,
By those eyes so good and true,
By that all-powerful force?
When I try to run away,
Collect myself and flee,
In a moment my path strays
Back to her you see.

By that magic thread, so
That cannot be untied,
The dear wanton girl, oh
She holds me fast: and I
Must lie within her magic spell
And live where she may go.
How great the change, I tell!
Love! Love! Let me go!

um poema triste…

Posted in from the heart..., mario quintana, poetry on May 25, 2007 by gilrang

mquintanaEu escrevi um poema triste
e belo, apenas da sua tristeza.
Não vem de ti essa tristeza,
mas das mudanças do Tempo
que ora nos traz esperanças,
ora nos dá incerteza…
Nem importa, ao velho Tempo,
que sejas fiel ou infiel…
Eu fico, junto à correnteza,
olhando as horas tão breves…
E, das cartas que me escreves,
faço barcos de papel!

(Mario Quintana)