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Tema: Nga Kipling!

  1. #1
    Konservatore Maska e Dita
    Anėtarėsuar
    17-04-2002
    Postime
    2,925

    Nga Kipling!

    Blue Roses

    The Light that Failed


    Roses red and roses white
    Plucked I for my love's delight.
    She would none of all my posies--
    Bade me gather her blue roses.

    Half the world I wandered through,
    Seeking where such flowers grew.
    Half the world unto my quest
    Answered me with laugh and jest.

    Home I came at wintertide,
    But my silly love had died
    Seeking with her latest breath
    Roses from the arms of Death.

    It may be beyond the grave
    She shall find what she would have.
    Mine was but an idle quest--
    Roses white and red are best!




    Butterflies

    "Wireless" -- Traffic and Discoveries


    Eyes aloft, over dangerous places,
    The children follow the butterflies,
    And, in the sweat of their upturned faces,
    Slash with a net at the empty skies.

    So it goes they fall amid brambles,
    And sting their toes on the nettle-tops,
    Till, after a thousand scratches and scrambles,
    They wipe their brows and the hunting stops.

    Then to quiet them comes their father
    And stills the riot of pain and grief,
    Saying, "Little ones, go and gather
    Out of my garden a cabbage-leaf.

    "You will find on it whorls and clots of
    Dull grey eggs that, properly fed,
    Turn, by way of the worm, to lots of
    Glorious butterflies raised from the dead." . . .

    "Heaven is beautiful, Earth is ugly,"
    The three-dimensioned preacher saith;
    So we must not look where the snail and the slug lie
    For Psyche's birth. . . . And that is our death!





    The Explanation


    Love and Death once ceased their strife
    At the Tavern of Man's Life.
    Called for wine, and threw -- alas! --
    Each his quiver on the grass.
    When the bout was o'er they found
    Mingled arrows strewed the ground.
    Hastily they gathered then
    Each the loves and lives of men.
    Ah, the fateful dawn deceived!
    Mingled arrows each one sheaved;
    Death's dread armoury was stored
    With the shafts he most abhorred;
    Love's light quiver groaned beneath
    Venom-headed darts of Death.

    Thus it was they wrought our woe
    At the Tavern long ago.
    Tell me, do our masters know,
    Loosing blindly as they fly,
    Old men love while young men die?




    If


    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

    If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with triumph and disaster
    And treat those two imposters just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a **** for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
    And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breath a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

  2. #2
    Konservatore Maska e Dita
    Anėtarėsuar
    17-04-2002
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    2,925
    "Late Came the God"

    "The Wish House"


    Late came the God, having sent his forerunners who were
    not regarded--
    Late, but in wrath;
    Saying: "The wrong shall be paid, the contempt be rewarded
    On all that she hath."
    He poisoned the blade and struck home the full bosom receiving
    The wound and the venom in one past cure or relieving.
    He made treaty with Time to stand still that the grief might
    be fresh--
    Daily renewed and nightly pursued through her soul to her
    flesh--
    Mornings of memory, noontides of agony, midnights unslaked
    for her,
    Till the stones of the streets of her Hells and her Paradise ached
    for her.

    So she lived while her body corrupted upon her.
    And she called on the Night for a sign, and a Sign was allowed,
    And she builded an Altar and served by the light of her Vision--
    Alone, without hope of regard or reward, but uncowed,
    Resolute, selfless, divine.
    These things she did in Love's honour...
    What is a God beside Woman? Dust and derision!

  3. #3
    Konservatore Maska e Dita
    Anėtarėsuar
    17-04-2002
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    2,925
    The Miracles

    I sent a message to my dear --



    A thousand leagues and more to Her --
    The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear,
    And Lost Atlantis bore to Her.

    Behind my message hard I came,
    And nigh had found a grave for me;
    But that I launched of steel and flame
    Did war against the wave for me.

    Uprose the deep, by gale on gale,
    To bid me change my mind again --
    He broke his teeth along my rail,
    And, roaring, swung behind again.

    I stayed the sun at noon to tell
    My way across the waste of it;
    I read the storm before it fell
    And made the better haste of it.

    Afar, I hailed the land at night --
    The towers I built had heard of me --
    And, ere my rocket reached its height,
    Had flashed my Love the word of me.

    Earth sold her chosen men of strength
    (They lived and strove and died for me)
    To drive my road a nation's length,
    And toss the miles aside for me.

    I snatched their toil to serve my needs --
    Too slow their fleetest flew for me --
    I tired twenty smoking steeds,
    And bade them bait a new for me.

    I sent the lightnings forth to see
    Where hour by hour She waited me.
    Among ten million one was She,
    And surely all men hated me!

    Dawn ran to meet me at my goal --
    Ah, day no tongue shall tell again!
    And little folk of little soul
    Rose up to buy and sell again!

  4. #4
    Konservatore Maska e Dita
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    17-04-2002
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    Rebirth

    1914-18

    "The Edge of the Evening"--A Diversity of Creatures




    If any God should say,
    "I will restore
    The world her yesterday
    Whole as before
    My Judgment blasted it"--who would not lift
    Heart, eye, and hand in passion o'er the gift?

    If any God should will
    To wipe from mind
    The memory of this ill
    Which is Mankind
    In soul and substance now--who would not bless
    Even to tears His loving-tenderness?

    If any God should give
    Us leave to fly
    These present deaths we live,
    And safely die
    In those lost lives we lived ere we were born--
    What man but would not laugh the excuse to scorn?

    For we are what we are--
    So broke to blood
    And the strict works of war--
    So long subdued
    To sacrifice, that threadbare Death commands
    Hardly observance at our busier hands.

    Yet we were what we were,
    And, fashioned so,
    It pleases us to stare
    At the far show
    Of unbelievable years and shapes that flit,
    In our own likeness, on the edge of it.

  5. #5
    Shume poezi te bukura flm qe I ke postuar Dita
    Mos shkruaj gjė kur je me nerva, sepse, ndėrsa plaga e gjuhės ėshtė mė e keqe se e shpatės, mendo ē’ka mund tė jetė ajo e pendės

  6. #6
    Larguar.
    Anėtarėsuar
    30-11-2004
    Postime
    1,506
    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė parė tė shkatėrruar veprėn e jetės tėnde
    Dhe, pa thėnė njė fjalė tė vetme tė vihesh pėr tė rindėrtuar,
    Apo, tė humbėsh pėrnjėherė fitimin e njėqind lojėve
    Pa njė gjest dhe pa njė psherėtimė ;

    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qenė dashnor pa qenė i ēmendur nga dashuria,
    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qenė i fortė pa pushuar sė qenuri i butė
    Dhe, duke u ndjerė i urryer pa urryer nga ana jote,
    Megjithatė tė luftosh dhe tė mbrohesh ;

    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė duruar tė dėgjosh fjalėt e tua
    Tė shtrembėruara nga tė ligj pėr tė eksituar tė marrė,
    Dhe tė dėgjosh tė gėnjejė mbi ty goja e tyre e ēmendur,
    Pa gėnjyer veten tėnde nė njė fjalė tė vetme ;

    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qėndruar i denjė duke qenė popullor,
    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qėndruar popull duke kėshilluar mbretėrit
    Dhe nėse ti mundesh pėr t'i dashur tė gjithė miqtė e tu si vėllezėr
    Pa qė asnjė prej tyre tė jetė gjithēka pėr ty ;

    Nėse ti di tė meditosh, vėzhgosh dhe njohėsh
    Pa u kthyer kurrė mosbesues dhe shkatėrrues ;
    Tė ėndėrrosh, por pa e lėnė ėndrrėn tėnde tė jetė zoti yt,
    Tė mendosh pa qenė tjetėr pėrveēse njė mendimtar ;

    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qenė i ashpėr pa qenė kurrė i nxehur,
    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė qenė trim dhe kurrė i pakujdesshėm,
    Nėse ti di tė jesh i mirė, nėse ti di tė jesh i urtė
    Pa dhėnė mend dhe pa qenė i ftohtė ;

    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė takuar Fitore pas Disfate
    Dhe t'i pranosh kėto dy mėsues nė tė njėjtėn kohė,
    Nėse ti mundesh pėr tė ruajtur kurajon dhe kokėn tėnde
    Kur tė gjithė tė tjerėt do t'i humbin ato,

    Atėherė, Mbretėrit, Zotat, Fati dhe Fitorja
    Do tė jenė pėrgjithnjė skllevėrit e tu tė nėnshtruar
    Dhe, ajo ēka vlen mė mirė sesa Mbretėrit dhe Lavdia,
    Ti do tė jesh njė Burrė, biri im.


    (Perkthyer nga UN)
    Ndryshuar pėr herė tė fundit nga oiseau en vol : 19-02-2005 mė 23:30

Tema tė Ngjashme

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  2. Kipling Hugo Gorki
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  3. If nga Rudyard Kipling nė 6 pėrkthime
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  4. Per Nenen! - Kipling, Poe, Heine!
    Nga Dita nė forumin Krijime nė gjuhė tė huaja
    Pėrgjigje: 0
    Postimi i Fundit: 24-04-2002, 06:36

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