en
Gratis
James Joyce

Chamber Music (The Original Edition of 34 Poems)

  • b5825192143citeerde uit2 jaar geleden
    XXXVI
    I hear an army charging upon the land,

    And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:

    Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,

    Disdaining the reins, with fluttering ships, the charioteers.

    They cry unto the night their battle-name:

    I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.

    They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,

    Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

    They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:

    They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.

    My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?

    My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?
  • b5825192143citeerde uit2 jaar geleden
    V
    Lean out of the window,

    Goldenhair,

    I hear you singing

    A merry air.

    My book was closed,

    I read no more,

    Watching the fire dance

    On the floor.

    I have left my book,

    I have left my room,

    For I heard you singing

    Through the gloom.

    Singing and singing

    A merry air,

    Lean out of the window,

    Goldenhair.
  • Natasha Klimchukciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    Gentle lady, do not sing
    Sad songs about the end of love;
    Lay aside sadness and sing
    How love that passes is enough.
    Sing about the long deep sleep
    Of lovers that are dead, and how
    In the grave all love shall sleep:
    Love is aweary now.
  • Natasha Klimchukciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    Be not sad because all men
    Prefer a lying clamour before you:
    Sweetheart, be at peace again—
    Can they dishonour you?
    They are sadder than all tears;
    Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
    Proudly answer to their tears:
    As they deny, deny.
  • Natasha Klimchukciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    O Sweetheart, hear you
    Your lover's tale;
    A man shall have sorrow
    When friends him fail.
    For he shall know then
    Friends be untrue
    And a little ashes
    Their words come to.
    But one unto him
    Will softly move
    And softly woo him
    In ways of love.
    His hand is under
    Her smooth round breast;
    So he who has sorrow
    Shall have rest.
  • Natasha Klimchukciteerde uit3 jaar geleden
    Because your voice was at my side
    I gave him pain,
    Because within my hand I held
    Your hand again.
    There is no word nor any sign
    Can make amend—
    He is a stranger to me now
    Who was my friend.
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