A kiss on the forehead—erases misery.
I kiss your forehead.
A kiss on the eyes—lifts sleeplessness.
I kiss your eyes.
A kiss on the lips—is a drink of water.
I kiss your lips.
A kiss on the forehead—erases memory.
– Marina Tsvetaeva
Translated by Ilya Kaminsky and Jean Valentine
Postscript:
You can read a note by the translators here.
You can read a short biography of Tsvetaeva here, and longer bios here and here.
Tagged: Ilya Kaminsky, Jean Valentine, love poetry, Marina Tsvetaeva, memory, Russian, translation
- Published:
- August 9, 2012 – 08:00
- Author:
- By Madhu
- Categories:
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- Comments:
The leaded window opened
to move the dancing candle flame
And the first Moths of summer
suicidal came.
And a new breeze chattered
in its May-bud tenderness —
Sending water-lillies sailing
as she turned to get undressed.
And the long night awakened
and we soared on powdered wings —
Circling our tomorrows
in the wary month of Spring.
Chasing shadows slipping
in a magic lantern slide —
Creatures of the candle
on a night-light-ride.
Dipping and weaving — flutter
through the golden needle’s eye
in our haystack madness. Butterfly-stroking
on a Spring-tide high.
Life’s too long (as the Lemming said)
as the candle burned and the Moths were wed.
And we’ll all burn together as the wick grows higher —
before the candle’s dead.
The leaded window opened
to move the dancing candle flame.
And the first moths of summer
suicidal came
to join in the worship
of the light that never dies
in a moment’s reflection
of two moths spinning in her eyes.
– Ian Anderson
Tagged: Ian Anderson, imagery, Jethro Tull, social commentary, song lyrics
- Published:
- August 8, 2012 – 08:00
- Author:
- By Madhu
- Categories:
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- Comments:
When I lose you, someday,
how will you sleep without me
whispering myself away
above you like the linden tree?
Without me waking to lay down
words, as close as eyelids,
upon your breasts, upon
your limbs, upon your lips?
Without my closing you to leave
you alone with what is yours,
like a garden with its sheaves
of melissas and of anise-stars?
– Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by W. D. Snodgrass
Postscript:
I think Rilke’s verse walks the fine line of sounding passionate but not overwrought.
You can read other poems by Rilke that we’ve run here: I am Much Too Alone In This World, and Extinguish My Eyes.
You can read more about Rilke here.
You can read some of his writing about art, life and poetry here.
Tagged: French, imagery, love poetry, Rainer Maria Rilke, sleep, translation, W. D. Snodgrass
- Published:
- August 7, 2012 – 08:00
- Author:
- By Madhu
- Categories:
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- Comments:
Moths
The leaded window opened
to move the dancing candle flame
And the first Moths of summer
suicidal came.
And a new breeze chattered
in its May-bud tenderness —
Sending water-lillies sailing
as she turned to get undressed.
And the long night awakened
and we soared on powdered wings —
Circling our tomorrows
in the wary month of Spring.
Chasing shadows slipping
in a magic lantern slide —
Creatures of the candle
on a night-light-ride.
Dipping and weaving — flutter
through the golden needle’s eye
in our haystack madness. Butterfly-stroking
on a Spring-tide high.
Life’s too long (as the Lemming said)
as the candle burned and the Moths were wed.
And we’ll all burn together as the wick grows higher —
before the candle’s dead.
The leaded window opened
to move the dancing candle flame.
And the first moths of summer
suicidal came
to join in the worship
of the light that never dies
in a moment’s reflection
of two moths spinning in her eyes.
– Ian Anderson
Tagged: Ian Anderson, imagery, Jethro Tull, social commentary, song lyrics