E. E. Cummings...

[Leila]

(Me up at does)

Me up at does
out of the floor
quietly Stare
a poisoned mouse

still who alive
is asking What
have i done that
You wouldn't have

[EXODUS]

hate blows a bubble of despair into
hugeness world system universe and bang
-fear buries a tomorrow under woe
and up comes yesterday most green and young

pleasure and pain are merely surfaces
(one itself showing,itself hiding one)
life's only and true value neither is
love makes the little thickness of the coin

comes here a man would have from madame death
nevertheless now and without winter spring?
she'll spin that spirit her own fingers with
and give him nothing (if he should not sing)

how much more than enough for both of us
darling. And if i sing you are my voice,

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

You are tired
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me then
And we'll leave it far and far away-
(Only you and I understand!)

You have played
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break and-
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart-
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows
And if you like
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble the moon
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream
Until I find the Only Flower
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

ps. e kam lexuar disa here ditet e fundit.

[Larsus]

You are tired

ps. e kam lexuar disa here ditet e fundit.

eh moj cupke, wake up :)



it is at moments after i have dreamed

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


i have found what you are like

i have found what you are like
the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned

newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods
which
stutter
and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

Lars' DO NOT DISTURB the sleeping beauty :p

ps. ku e ke gjetur kete nick me qafsh; si nordik me ngjan :) Mos dhente zoti te jesh bjond (lol)

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is

because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold creshendo and silver muting

of seatides
i trusted not,
one night
when in my fingers

drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
breasts

darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down

the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green--

greeting pale
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.

and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain

face become
white
perfume
only,

from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush

the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with

thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

the dress was a suspicious madder, importing the cruelty of roses.
The exciting simplicity of her hipless body, pausing to invent imperceptible bulgings of the pretended breasts, forked in surprisable unliving eyes chopped by a swollen inanity of picture hat.
her arms hung ugly., the hands sharp and impertinently dead.
Expression began with the early cessation of her skirt.
fleshless melody of the, keenly lascivious legs. painful ankles large
acute brutal feet propped on irrelevantly ferocious heels.
Her grasping slippery body moved with the hideous spontaneity
of a solemn mechanism. beneath her drab tempo of hasteful futility
lived brilliantly the enormous rhythm of absurdity.
skin like the poisonous of ice newly formed upon an old
pool. Her nose was small, exact, stupid. mouth normal, large, unclever.
hair genuinely artificial, unpleasantly tremendous.
under flat lusts of light her nice concupiscence appeared rounded.

if she were alive, death was amusing

[Hyllien]

The Hours Rise Up

the hours rise up putting off stars and it is
dawn
into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems

on earth a candle is
extinguished ........ the city
wakes
with a song upon her
mouth having death in her eyes

and it is dawn
the world
goes forth to murder dreams….

i see in the street where strong
men are digging bread
and i see the brutal faces of
people contented hideous hopeless cruel happy

and it is day,

in the mirror
i see a frail
man
dreaming
dreams
dreams in the mirror

and it
is dusk........on earth

a candle is lighted
and it is dark.
the people are in their houses
the frail man is in his bed
the city

sleeps with death upon her mouth having a song in her eyes
the hours descend,
putting on stars….

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems


Nje perkthim i vjeter nga Eugéne Jolas, frankofonet e forumit mund t'a perkthejne me mire... ;)

Les heures se lévent

Les heures se lèvent éteignant les étoiles et voici
l’aube
dans la rue du ciel la lumiere en éparpillant des poèmes

sur la tere une chandelle est
éteinte........ la ville
s’éveille
un chant sur sa
bouche la mort dabs ses yeux

et voici l’aube
le mond
part pour assassiner des rêves…

je vois dans la rue où des hommes
forts piochent du pain
et je remarque les figures brutales des
gens contents hideux desespérés cruels heureux

et voici le jour,
dans la glace
je remarque un homme
frêle
rêvantdes rêves
des rêves dans la glace
et voici
le crépuscule........ sur la tere

une chandelle est allumée
et il fait noir.
les gens sont chez eux
l’homme frèle est dans son lit
la ville

dort avec al mort dans sa bouche un chant dans ses yeux
les heures descendent
allumant les étoiles….

dans la rue du ciel la nuit marche en semant des poèmes

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

If you ever wanted to see the mystic river bathed in a white mist and experience a revelation (as Cumming might have) today was the day. I no longer remember for how many days it has been raining, but it feels like the forty days and forty nights the genesis talks about.
Here's Cummings:

Stretching away to westward the great river lies quiet beneath me. So still it lies, that it seems as if it had not yet awakened from the delicious sleep brought on by the silence of night. A little distance from the shore a boat is moored on its glassy surface—perfect to every detail the reflection glimmers below it. All is still and somber and wonderful, as down gives way to daylight and night to morning.
As I stand leaning over the rail of the old wooden bridge that spans it, I give full play to my imagination, and gaze ahead to the morning fog that rests above its polished surface. And as I gaze, gaze into the deep white mist, my thoughts turn from earth to heaven, from mankind to my God. Far away, beyond the limits of that stream that fades into the atmosphere, I can see a great celestial river and a great celestial land. Ah! How my fancy pictures it—how vivid and how real it seems! How plainly I can see the inestimable future! And how doubly I worship the great power that has created all this. How wonderful and how marvelous it all is! How sweet is the unconscious dreaming of the soul!
A slight sound from the wakening city brings me back to ugly reality. I turn my head backwards. In an instant, all the beauteous castles of the future which my imagination so vividly builded, vanish from my mind. All is gone! Gone in a moment! And nothing is left me but this world as I turn away from the wonderful river of mist.

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

this fear is no longer dear. You are not going to America and
i but that doesn’t in the least matter. The big
fear Who had us deeply in his fist is
no longer, you can imagine it
i can’t which doesn’t matter
and what does is possibly this dear, that we
may resume impact with inutile, collide
once more with the imagined, love, and eat sunlight (do
you believe it? I begin to and that doesn’t matter) which i
suggest teach us a new terror whereby shall always brighten
carefully those things we consider life