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To the Nightingale

Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel!
How many Bards in city garret pent,
While at their window they with downward eye
Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud,
And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen
(Those hoarse unfeather’d Nightingales of Time!),
How many wretched Bards address thy name,
And hers, the full-orb'd Queen that shines above.
But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark,
Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid
Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains.

S.T. Coleridge

Love

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.


Omar Khayyam

A Great Poetic Work
Translated by Edward FitzGerald

Red Indians in Denmark

Red Indians in Denmark

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Love

It was as calm as this, that happy night
When Mary, thou, and I together were,
The low decaying Fire our only Light,
And listen’d to the Stillness of the Air!
O that affectionate and blameless Maid,
Dear Mary! on her Lap my head she lay’d –
Her Hand was on my Brow,
Even as my own is now;
And on my Check, I felt the eye-lash play.
Such joy I had, that I may truly say,
My spirit was awe-stricken with the Excess
And trance-like Depth of its brief Happiness.

From Dejection / A Letter / on selected poetry of S.T. Coleridge

Flesh of the Night

I tore the curtain,
Between your bedroom,
And the library,
To catch a book,
Instead my eyes,
Caught your stripped thighs,
Flaming like my knowledge desire,
Free like this night's air.
I jumped softly to the library,
Just like a cat,
To catch a book,
I caught a warm flesh!

Khalid Osman
1999 Asmara

Ah Love

Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits - and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

Omar Khayyam
Translated by Edward FitzGerald

My Love Silkeborg

Come to Silkebo(rg),
And have a nice bow.
You'll see the beautiful city,
I like it like my little kitty.
Our city, is not so big,
But, it's quite and nice to dig,
Your way everywhere
Where you can see all those happy faces,
Passing by as dreams that in many cases,
Come true.

Come to Silkebo(rg),
See the God's river and the Long Lake,
You have so many pleasures in your way to take
The beautiful nature, and the nice culture.
And clap your hands twice,
People will think, you're very nice,
Greeting them, or otherwise,
You're so gentle and wise.

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Love

No! I am not prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To sweel a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic,cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous----
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the
beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers on the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Thomas Stern Eliot

Love

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled
streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that
trail along the floor----
And this, and so much more?----
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as i a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns
on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'

T.S. Eliot

Love

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'----
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

T.S. Eliot

Love

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of slient seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep... tired... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices.
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald)
brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet----and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and
sincker,
And in short, I was afraid.

T.S Eliot

Love

For I have known the eyes already, known them all----
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt- ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all----
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
T.S. Eliot - Selected Poetry

Love

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair----
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!')
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly on the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin----
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all----
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room
So how should I presume?

For I have known the eyes already, known them all----
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all----
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .

T.S. Eliot - Selected Poems
_______

Love Only!: Love

Love Only!: Love

Love

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

T.S. Eliot - Continuation to the verse below and above.

Love

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

Continuation to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" from T. S. Eliot Selected Poems.

Love!

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restlessnights in one-night-cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.

T.S.Eliot - Selected Pomes

Love

Anytime You Need A Friend

If you're lonely
And need a friend
And troubles seem like
They never end
Just remember to keep the faith
And love will be there to light the way

Anytime you need a friend
I will be here
You'll never be alone again
So don't you fear
Even if you're miles away
I'm by your side
So don't you ever be lonely
Love will make it alright

When the shadows are closing in
And your spirit diminishing
Just remember you're not alone
And love will be there
To guide you home

If you just believe in me
I will love you endlessly
Take my hand
Take me into your heart
I'll be there forever baby
I won't let go
I'll never let go

Lyrics: Mariah Carey
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