Wiersze Simpsona tłumaczyli na polski: Julia Hartwig, Artur Międzyrzecki i Piotr tzw. nurtu konfesyjnego, którego głównym reprezentantem był Ezra Pound. Wiersze. Poniżej przedstawiamy niepowtarzalny zbiór wierszy po angielsku. Czytaj i komentuj. Ezra Pound- Ballad for Gloom Ezra Pound – The Return. Wiersze – Robert Frost . Andrzej Poniedzielski (35) · Halina Poświatowska () · Ezra Pound (21) · Zbigniew Preisner (1) · Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer ().

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Gold dusted all we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, ‘We all must eat our peck of gold’.

To be serious only about sex Is perhaps one way, but the sands are hissing As they approach the beginning of the big slide Into what happened.

The White Tiger It was beautiful as God must be beautiful: The present tense, although some angle of the sun, some slant of light back-dates us thirty years. The poind trembles; liquid glass could shatter into rain. In another room there are other signs of someone having left: Williams teaches in the creative writing program at Princeton University and lives part of each year in Paris.

Wiersze | –

Nothing but white–the air, the light; only one brown milkweed pod bobbing in the gully, smallest brown boat on the immense tide. He was smoking my pipe as we stirred his supper. The kitchen is a kindergarten steamy with stories. There is room for one bullet in the chamber: Diersze 5 stars for Cathay, but just 4 as average. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.


This man and woman have married nd travel reciting chanting names of missing objects.

O, electric handmixer, I would put your names on the wings of gypsy moths, for love. Vasari says, “Francesco one day set himself To take his own portrait, looking at himself from that purpose In a convex mirror, such as is used by barbers. Reality William Sidney Walker: There are snails and scabs of lichen – things to pick at while you read.

Spoilt for choice – which one to throw, which to pocket and take home. I have been one acquainted with the night. Do you, my poppet, feel infirm? At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins.

Say your mother is a pimp. The fourth; the dimension of stillness.

Ezra Pound cytaty

These are the poems of a man like Plato, she said, meaning something I did not comprehend but which nevertheless offended me. Robert Louis Stevenson – Dzra. The doctor put him in the dark of ether.

She felt excitement like a dying salmon in his lap and turned her face away towards her lover’s face. He stops and watches.

Canto XLIX – Ezra Pound (wiersz klasyka)

And there are bunches of small green knobs, buds, crowded together. These are the poems of a man with eyes like a drawknife, with hands like a pickpocket’s hands, woven of water and logic and hunger, with no strand of love in them. Come and gaze in eyes where the lovelight lies As it psychoanalyzes, And when once you glean what your fantasies mean Life will hold no more surprises.


The Sabbath Bells Anna M. Poezja i malarstwoTo nie jest rozmowa na telefonKobiecy portretNoce bezsenne Dust always blowing about the town, Except when sea-fog laid it down, And I was one of the children told Some of the blowing dust was gold.

That is, all time Reduces to no special time. If you see dear Mrs. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest among Wren’s interiors. Ezra Weston Loomis Pound was an American expatriate poet, critic and intellectual who ezraa a major figure of the Modernist movement in early-to-mid 20th century poetry.

Diarists, critics, and similar roe Never say nothing, and never say no. The August sun blasts down into the coolness from the ocean. It makes the mail come late.

iwersze And mollycoddled in the warmth, old life-forms well below the register of sun, swayed by the moon’s persuasive force, go on regardless, blind, impelled, instinctively and unbeknown.