Poesie in lingua straniera


Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
The Rose did caper on her cheek -
Her Bodice rose and fell -
Her pretty speech - like drunken men -
Did stagger pitiful -
Her fingers fumbled at her work -
Her needle would not go -
What ailed so smart a little Maid -
It puzzled me to know -

Till opposite - I spied a cheek
That bore another Rose -
Just opposite - Another speech
That like the Drunkard goes -

A Vest that like her Boddice, danced -
To the immortal tune -
Till those two troubled - little Clocks
Ticked softly into one.
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
    Tho' I get home how late - how late -
    So I get home - 'twill compensate -
    Better will be the Extasy
    That they have done expecting me -
    When Night - descending - dumb - and dark -
    They hear my unexpected knock -
    Transporting must the moment be -
    Brewed from decades of Agony!
    To think just how the fire will burn -
    Just how long-cheated eyes will turn -
    To wonder what myself will say,
    And what itself, will say to me -
    Beguiles the Centuries of way!
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
      I should not dare to leave my friend,
      Because - because if he should die
      While I was gone - and I - too late -
      Should reach the Heart that wanted me -
      If I should disappoint the eyes
      That hunted - hunted so - to see -
      And could not bear to shut until
      They "noticed" me - they noticed me -

      If I should stab the patient faith
      So sure I'd come - so sure I'd come -
      It listening - listening - went to sleep -
      Telling my tardy name -

      My Heart would wish it broke before -
      Since breaking then - since breaking then -
      Were useless as next morning's sun -
      Where midnight frosts - had lain.
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        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
        Unit, like Death, for Whom?
        True, like the Tomb,
        Who tells no secret
        Told to Him -
        The Grave is strict -
        Tickets admit
        Just two - the Bearer -
        And the Borne -
        And seat - just One -
        The Living - tell -
        The Dying - but a Syllable -
        The Coy Dead - None -
        No Chatter - here - no tea -
        So Babbler, and Bohea - stay there -
        But Gravity - and Expectation - and Fear -
        A tremor just, that All's not sure.
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          Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
          in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
          Some - Work for Immortality -
          The Chiefer part, for Time -
          He - Compensates - immediately -
          The former - Checks - on Fame -
          Slow Gold - but Everlasting -
          The Bullion of Today -
          Contrasted with the Currency
          Of Immortality -

          A Beggar - Here and There -
          Is gifted to discern
          Beyond the Broker's insight -
          One's - Money - One's - the Mine.
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