Love poems
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Pictured
© Constantine Cavafy
My work, I'm very careful about it, and I love it.
But today I'm discouraged by how slowly it's going.
The day has affected my mood.
It gets darker and darker. Endless wind and rain.
Morning Sea
© Constantine Cavafy
Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile.
The brilliant blue of the morning sea, of the cloudless sky,
the yellow shore; all lovely,
all bathed in light.
The Bandaged Shoulder
© Constantine Cavafy
He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen.
But there was probably another reason
for the wounded and bandaged shoulder.
Remember, Body...
© Constantine Cavafy
Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
not only the beds on which you lay,
but also those desires which for you
plainly glowed in the eyes,
In Church
© Constantine Cavafy
I love the church: its labara,
its silver vessels, its candleholders,
the lights, the ikons, the pulpit.
Mystic Lady....
© Siddharth Anand
I search for love and find my soul
With you, my love, I am whole
And the mystic love that binds us
Reminds me of divinity.
Hope
© Siddharth Anand
Do you believe, in what you see
do you believe in reality
do you believe in the sun thats bright
do you believe in the stars in the night
Quies
© Ezra Pound
This is another of our ancient loves.
Pass and be silent, Rullus, for the day
Hath lacked a something since this lady passed;
Hath lacked a something. 'Twas but marginal.
In Tempore Senectutis
© Ezra Pound
When I am old
I will not have you look apart
From me, into the cold,
Friend of my heart,
The Summons
© Ezra Pound
I can not bow to woo thee
With honey words and flower kisses
And the dew of sweet half-truths
Fallen on the grass of old quaint love-tales
The Fault of It
© Ezra Pound
Some may have blamed us that we cease to speak
Of things we spoke of in our verses early,
Saying: a lovely voice is such as such;
Saying: that lady's eyes were sad last week,
Villonaud for This Yule
© Ezra Pound
Where are the joys my heart had won?
(Saturn and Mars to Zeus drawn near!)
Where are athe lips mine lay upon,
Aye! where are the glances feat and clear
That bade my heart his valor don?
Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I)
© Ezra Pound
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --
Ballad for Gloom
© Ezra Pound
I have loved my God as a child at heart
That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,
I have loved my God as a maid to man
But lo, this thing is best:
The Plunge
© Ezra Pound
I would bathe myself in strangeness:
These comforts heaped upon me, smother me!
I burn, I scald so for the new,
New friends, new faces,
Nicotine
© Ezra Pound
Hymn to the Dope
Goddess of the murmuring courts,
Nicotine, my Nicotine,
Houri of the mystic sports,
The Seafarer
© Ezra Pound
(From the early Anglo-Saxon text) May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Ballad of the Goodly Fere
© Ezra Pound
Ha' we lost the goodliest fere o' all
For the priests and the gallows tree?
Aye lover he was of brawny men,
O' ships and the open sea.
E.P. Ode Pour L'election De Son Sepulchre
© Ezra Pound
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start--
