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Duke shfaqur rezultatin -19 deri 0 prej 10
  1. #1
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    Michael Ondaatje

    "THE CINNAMON PEELER"

    If I were a cinnamon peeler
    I would ride your bed
    and leave the yellow bark dust
    on your pillow

    Your breasts and shoulders would reek
    you could never walk through markets
    without the procession of my fingers
    floating over you. The blind would
    stumble certain of whom they approached
    though you might bathe
    under rain gutters, monsoon

    Here on the upper thigh
    at this smooth pasture
    neighbor to your hair
    or the crease
    that cuts your back. This ankle
    You will be known among strangers
    as the Cinnamon Peeler's wife.

    I could hardly glance at you
    before marriage
    never touch you
    - your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
    I buried my hands
    in saffron, disguised them
    over smoking tar,
    helped the honey gatherers...

    When we swam once
    I touched you in water
    and our bodies remained free,
    you could hold me and be blind of smell.
    You climbed the bank and said

    this is how you touch other women
    the grass cutter's wife, the lime burners daughter.
    And you stretched your arms
    for the missing perfume

    and knew

    what good is it
    to be the lime burner's daughter
    left with no trace
    as if not spoken to in the act of love
    as if wounded without the pleasure of scar

    You touched your belly
    to my hands
    in the dry air and said
    I am the cinnamon
    peeler's wife.
    Smell me.

    ---------------------
    Michael Ondaatje - widely known for his book "The English Patient", - was born in Sri Lanka and later emigrated to Canada.

  2. #2
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    JOHN WHITE

    SOFTLY

    Softly Baby I'll stop having a thing for you.
    Softly I'll try not to call again.
    And even if I do, I'll realize
    It's not such a good idea.

    Softly I'll learn that what I thought was true.
    For a soft while I'll be asleep by ten.
    I won't look at everything just through your eyes,
    And I'll softly try not to see ya.

  3. #3
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    KAHLIL GIBRAN

    -excerpt from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran


    You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

    You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

    Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

    But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
    And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

    Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
    Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

    Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

    Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

    Sing and dance together and be joyous,
    but let each one of you be alone,
    Even as the strings of a lute are alone
    though they quiver with the same music.

    Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
    For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

    And stand together yet not too near together:

    For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
    And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

  4. #4
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    VLADIMIR MAYAKOVSKY

    PAST ONE O'CLOCK

    Past one o'clock. You must have gone to bed.
    The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
    I'm in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
    I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
    And, as they say, the incedent is closed.
    Love's boat has smashed against the daily grind.
    Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
    to balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
    Behold what quiet settles on the world.
    Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
    In hours like these, one rises to address
    The ages, history, and all creation.

  5. #5
    i/e regjistruar Maska e ChuChu
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    MARINA TSVETAYEVA (1892-1941)

    YESTERDAY HE STILL LOOKED IN MY EYES

    Yesterday he still loked in my eyes, yet
    today his looks are bent aside. Yesterday
    he sat there untils the birds began, but
    today all those larks are ravens.

    Sutpid creature! And you are wise, you
    live while I am stunned.
    Now for the lament of women in all times:
    --- My love, what was it I did to you?

    And tears are water, blood is water,
    a woman always washes in blood and tears.
    Love is a step mother, and no mother:
    then expect no justice or mercy from her.

    Ships carry away the ones we love.
    Along the white road they are taken away.
    And one cry stretches across the earth:
    --- My love, what was it I did to you?

    Yesterday he lay at my feet. He even
    compared me with the Chinese empire! Then
    suddenly he let his hands fall open, and
    my life fell out like a rusty kopeck.

    A child murderer, before some court
    I stand loathsome and timid I am.
    And yet even in Hell I shall demand.
    --- My love, what was it I did to you?

    I ask this chair. I ask the bed. Why?
    Why do I suffer and live in penury?
    His kisses stopped. He wanted to break you.
    To kiss another girl is their reply.

    He taught me to live in fire, he threw me there,
    and then abandoned me on steppes of ice.
    My love, I know what you have done to me.
    --- My love, what was it I did to you?

    I know everything! don't argue with me!
    I can see now, I'm a lover no longer.
    And now I know wherever love holds power
    Death approaches soon like a gardener.

    It's almost like shaking a tree, in time
    some ripe apple comes falling down. So
    for everything, for everything forgive me,
    my love whatever it is I did to you.

  6. #6
    i/e regjistruar Maska e ChuChu
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    EMILY DICKINSON (1830-86)

    WILD NIGHTS! WILD NIGHTS!

    Wild nights! Wild nights!
    Were I with thee,
    Wild nights should be
    Our Luxury!

    Futile the winds
    To a heart in port,---
    Done with the compass,
    Done with the chart.

    Rowing in Eden!
    Ah! the sea!
    Might I but moor
    To-night in thee!

  7. #7
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    ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

    I LOVE YOU

    I love your lips when they're wet with wine
    And red with a wild desire;
    I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
    Lit with a passionate fire.
    I love your arms when the warm white flesh
    Touches mine in a fond embrace;
    I love your hair when the strands enmesh
    Your kisses against my face.
    Not for me the cold, calm kiss
    Of a virgin's bloodless love;
    Not for me the saint's white bliss,
    Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
    But give me the love that so freely gives
    And laughs at the whole world's blame,
    With your body so young and warm in my arms,
    It sets my poor heart aflame.
    So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
    Still fragrant with ruby wine,
    And say with a fervor born of the South
    That your body and soul are mine.
    Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
    While the pale stars shine above,
    And we'll live our whole young lives away
    In the joys of a living love.

  8. #8
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    MAYA ANGELOU

    PHENOMENAL WOMAN!

    Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
    I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
    But when I start to tell them
    They think I'm telling lies.
    I say,
    It's the reach of my arms
    The span of my hips,
    The stride of my step,
    The curl of my lips.
    I'm a woman
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal woman,
    That's me.

    I walk into a room
    Just as cool as you please,
    And to a man,
    The fellows that stand or
    Fall down on their knees.
    Then they swarm around me,
    A hive of honey bees.
    I say,
    It's the fire in my eyes,
    And the flash of my teeth,
    The swing in my waist,
    And the joy in my feet.
    I'm a woman
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal woman,
    That's me.

    Men themselves have wondered
    What they see in me.
    They try so much
    But they can't touch
    My inner mystery.
    Whgen I try to show them
    They say they still can't see.
    I say,
    It's the arch of my back,
    The sun of my smile,
    The ride of my breasts,
    The grace of my style.
    I'm a woman
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal woman,
    That's me.

    Now you understand
    Just why my head's not bowed.
    I don't shout or jump about
    Or have to talk real loud.
    When you see me passing
    It ought to make you proud.
    I say,
    It's the click of my heels,
    The bend of my hair,
    The palm of my hand,
    The need of my care,
    'Cause I'm a woman,
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomemanl woman,
    That's me.

  9. #9
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    Anna Akhmatova

    In Memory of M. B.

    Here is my gift, not roses on your grave,
    not sticks of burning incense.
    You lived aloof, maintaining to the end
    your magnificent disdain.
    You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes,
    and suffocated inside stifling walls.
    Alone you let the terrible stranger in,
    and stayed with her alone.

    Now you're gone, and nobody says a word
    about your troubled and exalted life.
    Only my voice, like a flute, will mourn
    at your dumb funeral feast.
    Oh, who would have dared believe that half-crazed I,
    I, sick with grief for the buried past,
    I, smoldering on a slow fire,
    having lost everything and forgotten all,
    would be fated to commemorate a man
    so full of strength and will and bright inventions,
    who only yesterday it seems, chatted with me,
    hiding the tremor of his mortal pain.

  10. #10
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    Charles Baudelaire

    BE DRUNK!

    You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
    But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
    And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
    drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be
    drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
    continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

Tema tė Ngjashme

  1. Bukuri nė majė tė thonjve.
    Nga Zzanushjaa nė forumin Bukuri dhe estetikė
    Pėrgjigje: 157
    Postimi i Fundit: 18-06-2015, 17:24
  2. Letra dashurie nga autorė tė famshėm (Tribut pėr Shėn Valentinin)
    Nga angeldust nė forumin Krijime nė gjuhė tė huaja
    Pėrgjigje: 55
    Postimi i Fundit: 29-01-2013, 19:53
  3. Binjake, por me baballare te ndryshem
    Nga BESIIM nė forumin Shkenca dhe jeta
    Pėrgjigje: 35
    Postimi i Fundit: 04-06-2009, 19:45
  4. E.Ēabej: Ilirishtja dhe Shqipja
    Nga BARAT nė forumin Gjuha shqipe
    Pėrgjigje: 3
    Postimi i Fundit: 11-02-2009, 19:00
  5. Armiqtė e zemrės, tė ndryshėm pėr meshkujt e femrat
    Nga ClaY_MorE nė forumin Mjeku pėr ju
    Pėrgjigje: 0
    Postimi i Fundit: 17-12-2008, 19:20

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