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Poesie inserite da Silvana Stremiz

Questo utente ha inserito contributi anche in Frasi & Aforismi, in Indovinelli, in Frasi di Film, in Umorismo, in Racconti, in Leggi di Murphy, in Frasi per ogni occasione e in Proverbi.
47 di 323
Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
in Poesie ()

Cet amour

Cet amour
Si violent
Si fragile
Si tendre
Si désespéré
Cet amour
Beau comme le jour
Et mauvais comme le temps
Quand le temps est mauvais
Cet amour si vrai
Cet amour si beau
Si heureux
Si joyeux
Et si dérisoire
Tremblant de peur comme un enfant dans le noir
Et si sûr de lui
Comme un homme tranquille au milieu de la nuit
Cet amour qui faisait peur aux autres
Qui les faisait parler
Qui les faisait blêmir
Cet amour guetté
Parce que nous le guettions
Traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié
Parce que nous l'avons traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié
Cet amour tout entier
Si vivant encore
Et tout ensoleillé
C'est le tien
C'est le mien
Celui qui a été
Cette chose toujours nouvelles
Et qui n'a pas changé
Aussi vraie qu'une plante
Aussi tremblante qu'un oiseau
Aussi chaude aussi vivante que l'été
Nous pouvons tous les deux
Aller et revenir
Nous pouvons oublier
Et puis nous rendormir
Nous réveiller souffrir vieillir
Nous endormir encore
Rêver à la mort
Nous éveiller sourire et rire
Et rajeunir
Notre amour reste là
Têtu comme une bourrique
Vivant comme le désir
Cruel comme la mémoire
Bête comme les regrets
Tendre comme le souvenir
Froid comme le marbre
Beau comme le jour
Fragile comme un enfant
Il nous regarde en souriant
Et il nous parle sans rien dire
Et moi j'écoute en tremblant
Et je crie
Je crie pour toi
Je crie pour moi
Je te supplie
Pour toi pour moi et pour tous ceux qui s'aiment
Et qui se sont aimés
Oui je lui crie
Pour toi pour moi et pour tous les autres
Que je ne connais pas
Reste là
Là où tu es
Là où tu étais autrefois
Reste là
Ne bouge pas
Ne t'en va pas
Nous qui sommes aimés
Nous t'avons oublié
Toi ne nous oublie pas
Nous n'avions que toi sur la terre
Ne nous laisse pas devenir froids
Beaucoup plus loin toujours
Et n'importe où
Donne-nous signe de vie
Beaucoup plus tard au coin d'un bois
Dans la forêt de la mémoire
Surgis soudain
Tends-nous la main
Et sauve-nous.
Crea la tua Immagine
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    in Poesie ()

    Friendship

    And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship".
    And he answered, saying:
    Your friend is your needs answered.
    He is your field which you sow with love and reap with
    thanksgiving.
    And he is your board and your fireside.
    For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek
    him for peace.
    When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the
    "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay".
    And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to
    his heart;
    For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all
    desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy
    that is unacclaimed.
    When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
    For that which you love most in him may be clearer in
    his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer
    from the plain.
    And let there be no purpose in friendship save the
    deepening of the spirit.
    For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own
    mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the
    unprofitable is caught.
    And let your best be for your friend.
    If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its
    flood also.
    For what is your friend that you should seek him with
    hours to kill?
    Seek him always with hours to live.
    For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
    And in the sweetness of friendship let there be
    laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
    For in the dew of little things the heart finds its.
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      in Poesie ()
      I could not prove the Years had feet -
      Yet confident they run
      Am I, from symptoms that are past
      And Series that are done -
      I find my feet have further Goals -
      I smile upon the Aims
      That felt so ample - Yesterday -
      Today's - have vaster claims -

      I do not doubt the Self I was
      Was competent to me -
      But something awkward in the fit -
      Proves that - outgrown - I see.
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        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        in Poesie ()
        I measure every Grief I meet
        With narrow, probing, Eyes -
        I wonder if It weighs like Mine -
        Or has an Easier size -
        I wonder if They bore it long -
        Or did it just begin -
        I could not tell the Date of Mine -
        It feels so old a pain -

        I wonder if it hurts to live -
        And if They have to try -
        And whether - could They choose between -
        It would not be - to die -

        I note that Some - gone patient long -
        At length, renew their smile -
        An imitation of a Light
        That has so little Oil -

        I wonder if when Years have piled -
        Some Thousands - on the Harm -
        That hurt them Early - such a lapse
        Could give them any Balm -

        Or would they go on aching still
        Through Centuries of Nerve -
        Enlightened to a larger Pain -
        In Contrast with the Love -

        The Grieved - are many - I am told -
        There is the various Cause -
        Death - is but one - and comes but once -
        And only nails the eyes -

        There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold -
        A sort they call "Despair" -
        There's Banishment from native Eyes -
        In sight of Native Air -

        And though I may not guess the kind -
        Correctly - yet to me
        A piercing Comfort it affords
        In passing Calvary -

        To note the fashions - of the Cross -
        And how they're mostly worn -
        Still fascinated to presume
        That Some - are like My Own.
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          Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
          in Poesie ()
          Drowning is not so pitiful
          As the attempt to rise.
          Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man
          Comes up to face the skies,
          And then declines forever
          To that abhorred abode,
          Where hope and he part company -
          For he is grasped by God.
          The Maker's cordial visage,
          However good to see,
          Is shunned, we must admit it,
          Like an adversity.
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