Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Paweł Łęczuk:
I o tym, co ważne w życiu:

Walt Whitman

When I heard at the Close of the Day

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d;
And else, when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy;
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light,
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend, my lover, was on his way coming, O then I was happy;
O then each breath tasted sweeter—and all that day my food nourish’d me more—and the beautiful day pass’d well,
And the next came with equal joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend;
And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,
In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.Paweł Łęczuk edytował(a) ten post dnia 02.12.07 o godzinie 15:56

Ważne. Może nawet najważniejsze.
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

To jest mój ulubiony kawałek od Emily. Niestety, nie umiem wyjaśnić, dlaczego.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

Emily Dickinson
Paweł Łęczuk

Paweł Łęczuk Media / Sztuka /
Rozrywka / Redakcja
/ Freelance

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Paulina Gołyga:
Paweł Łęczuk:
Paulina Gołyga:
Paweł Łęczuk:
Moje karkołomne próby pisania w tym języku dość blado wypadają, ale spróbujmy:

I feel like an old spider
Can’t catch any fly’s more
I can hear your voice
I feel warm inside of me

I wish I had you by me
Even just a little moment only
I wish you would stop talking
And give me some kiss

I really don’t know
What I’m looking for
I can see your lovely smile
All you can give me this time

Paweł Łęczuk
12.01.1998r.

Hmmm... poezja biesiadna? ;)
Taka z górnej półki, ofkoz :)))

Biesiadna...
hehe, ale fajne stwierdzenie :)


Paweł! Chodziło mi po głowie i wreszcie się wyklarowało - to mogłaby być piosenka Beatlesów :)


hehe, dzięki!!
Ale wiesz, ja mam raczej skojarzenia z klimatem Cohena, gdzieś w klimacie 10 new songs
Tylko brakuje mi tutaj jakiegoś błyskotliwego refrenu w stylu - "in my secret life".
:)
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

http://www.poemhunter.com/elizabeth-barrett-browning/b...

Pisała zdumiewająco prosto jak na swoje czasy. Prosto i na temat.

Sonnet XLIII - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett BrowningPaulina Gołyga edytował(a) ten post dnia 07.12.07 o godzinie 11:46
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Elizabeth Bishop (1911 - 1979)

http://www.poemhunter.com/elizabeth-bishop/biography/

Jej najsłynniejszy wiersz. W ogóle jeden z najlepszych wierszy na świecie.
Wynika z niego, że ćwiczenie czyni mistrza.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Wystan Hugh Auden (1907 - 1973)

http://www.poemhunter.com/wystan-hugh-auden/biography/

Jeden z najbardziej inspirujących poetów tego świata.

Are You There?

Each lover has some theory of his own
About the difference between the ache
Of being with his love, and being alone:

Why what, when dreaming, is dear flesh and bone
That really stirs the senses, when awake,
Appears a simulacrum of his own.

Narcissus disbelieves in the unknown;
He cannot join his image in the lake
So long as he assumes he is alone.

The child, the waterfall, the fire, the stone,
Are always up to mischief, though, and take
The universe for granted as their own.

The elderly, like Proust, are always prone
To think of love as a subjective fake;
The more they love, the more they feel alone.

Whatever view we hold, it must be shown
Why every lover has a wish to make
Some kind of otherness his own:
Perhaps, in fact, we never are alone.

Wystan Hugh Auden
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Pierwszy raz usłyszałam ten wiersz na ekranie kinowym - "Cztery wesela i pogrzeb". I tak znalazłam Poetę, który naprawdę umiał wyrazić, co to żałoba.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Wystan Hugh Auden
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Obudzona o każdej porze z najgłębszego snu nie będę wiedziała kim jestem ani co robię, ani dlaczego ściskam strażacki kask ;) ale ten wiersz wyrecytuję bez zająknięcia.
Testowane :)


Law, Like Love

Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.

Law is the wisdom of the old,
The impotent grandfathers feebly scold;
The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,
Law is the senses of the young.

Law, says the priest with a priestly look,
Expounding to an unpriestly people,
Law is the words in my priestly book,
Law is my pulpit and my steeple.

Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,
Speaking clearly and most severely,
Law is as I've told you before,
Law is as you know I suppose,
Law is but let me explain it once more,
Law is The Law.

Yet law-abiding scholars write:
Law is neither wrong nor right,
Law is only crimes
Punished by places and by times,
Law is the clothes men wear
Anytime, anywhere,
Law is Good morning and Good night.

Others say, Law is our Fate;
Others say, Law is our State;
Others say, others say
Law is no more,
Law has gone away.

And always the loud angry crowd,
Very angry and very loud,
Law is We,
And always the soft idiot softly Me.

If we, dear, know we know no more
Than they about the Law,
If I no more than you
Know what we should and should not do
Except that all agree
Gladly or miserably
That the Law is
And that all know this
If therefore thinking it absurd
To identify Law with some other word,
Unlike so many men
I cannot say Law is again,

No more than they can we suppress
The universal wish to guess
Or slip out of our own position
Into an unconcerned condition.
Although I can at least confine
Your vanity and mine
To stating timidly
A timid similarity,
We shall boast anyway:
Like love I say.

Like love we don't know where or why,
Like love we can't compel or fly,
Like love we often weep,
Like love we seldom keep.

Wystan Hugh Auden
Zygmunt B.

Zygmunt B. Specjalista, PGNiG
SA Dolnośląski
Oddział Obrotu Gazem

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Pisałaś wcześniej, Paulinko, o Cohenie, czym ośmieliłaś mnie do zamieszczenia poniższego tekstu.
Może nie jest to poezja najwyższego lotu, i chyba nie do końca w języku Szekspira, ale zachwycić potrafi, zwłaszcza w wykonaniu Autora.

You have loved enough

I said I’d be your lover
You laughed at what I said
I lost my job forever.
I was counted the dead.

I swept the marble chambers
But you sent me down below.
You kept me from believing
Until you let me know:

That I am not the one who loves —
It’s love that seizes me.
When hatred with his package comes,
You forbid delivery.

And when the hunger for your touch
Rises from the hunger,
You whisper, “You have loved enough,
Now let me be the Lover.”

I swept the marble chambers,
But you sent me down below.
You kept me from beliving
Until you let me know:

That I am not one who loves —
It’s love that chooses me.
When hatred with his package comes,
You forbid delivery.

And when the hunger for your touch
Rises from the hunger …

Leonard Cohen “The New Songs”
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Is There Any Reward?

Is there any reward?
I'm beginning to doubt it.
I am broken and bored,
Is there any reward
Reassure me, Good Lord,
And inform me about it.
Is there any reward?
I'm beginning to doubt it.

by Hilaire Belloc
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Let it be forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.

Sara Teasdale
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

We real cool

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

by Gwendolyn Brooks
Witold T.

Witold T. Manager/Advisor

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

A ja polecam wszystkim lekturę jednego z najpiękniejszych utworów poety małych liter, e.e.cummingsa:

All in green went my love riding

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer
ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift red deer
the red rare deer.

Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrow sang before.

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down
into the silver dawn.

Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.

Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.

Four tall stags at the green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.

ee cummings
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Witold T.:
A ja polecam wszystkim lekturę jednego z najpiękniejszych utworów poety małych liter, e.e.cummingsa:

Doskonałe małe dzieła :)
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

po prostu... :)

I believe in angels,
the kind that heaven sends.
I am surrounded by angels,
but I call them friends.

Aizabel Parinas
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

I Taught Myself To Live Simply by Anna Akhmatova

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.
Witold T.

Witold T. Manager/Advisor

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Chłodny, ale jakże drapieżny, Ted Hughes:

Crowcolour

Crow was so much blacker
Than the moon’s shadow
He had stars.

He was as much blacker
Than any negro
As a negro’s eye-pupil.

Even, like the sun,
Blacker
Than any blindness.

i jeszcze drapieżniejsza pierwsza lekcja:

Crow's First Lesson

God tried to teach Crow how to talk.
"Love," said God. "Say, Love."
Crow gaped, and the white shark crashed into the sea
And went rolling downwards, discovering its own depth.

"No, no," said God. "Say Love. Now try it. Love."
Crow gaped, and a bluefly, a tsetse, a mosquito
Zoomed out and down
To their sundry flesh-pots.

"A final try," said God. "Now, Love."
Crow convulsed, gaped, retched and
Man's bodiless prodigious head
Bulbed out onto the earth, with swivelling eyes,
Jabbering protest --

And Crow retched again, before God could stop him.
And woman's vulva dropped over man's neck and tightened.
The two struggled together on the grass.
God struggled to part them, cursed, wept --

Crow flew guiltily off.

czy, wreszcie, przejmujące:

Crow's Playmates

Lonely Crow created the gods for playmates--
But the mountain god tore free

And Crow fell back from the wall-face of mountains
By which he was so much lessened.

The river-god subtracted the rivers
From his living liquids.

God after god--and each tore from him
It's lodging place and its power.

Crow struggled, limply bedraggled his remnant.
He was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag.

He was what his brain could make nothing of.

So the least, least-living object extant
Wandered over his deathless greatness

Lonelier than ever.

by Ted HughesWitold T. edytował(a) ten post dnia 07.03.08 o godzinie 19:23
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

A za mną ostatnio uparcie chodzi U2 i How to dismantle an atomic bomb.
Kopalnia dobrych tekstów. Poezji.

Miracle Drug

I want to trip inside your head
Spend the day there...
To hear the things you haven't said
And see what you might see

I want to hear you when you call
Do you feel anything at all?
I want to see your thoughts take shape
And walk right out

Freedom has a scent
Like the top of a new born baby's head

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough I'm not giving up
On a miracle drug

Of science and the human heart
There is no limit
There is no failure here sweetheart
Just when you quit...

I am you and you are mine
Love makes nonsense of space
And time... will disappear
Love and logic keep us clear
Reason is on our side, love...

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle, a miracle drug, a miracle drug

God I need your help tonight

Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear a voice
It's whispering
In science and in medicine
"I was a stranger
You took me in"

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle, miracle drug

Miracle, miracle drug

Lyrics: Bono
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Witold T.:

i jeszcze drapieżniejsza pierwsza lekcja:

Crow's First Lesson

God tried to teach Crow how to talk.
"Love," said God. "Say, Love."
Crow gaped, and the white shark crashed into the sea
And went rolling downwards, discovering its own depth.

"No, no," said God. "Say Love. Now try it. Love."
Crow gaped, and a bluefly, a tsetse, a mosquito
Zoomed out and down
To their sundry flesh-pots.

"A final try," said God. "Now, Love."
Crow convulsed, gaped, retched and
Man's bodiless prodigious head
Bulbed out onto the earth, with swivelling eyes,
Jabbering protest --

And Crow retched again, before God could stop him.
And woman's vulva dropped over man's neck and tightened.
The two struggled together on the grass.
God struggled to part them, cursed, wept --

Crow flew guiltily off.


Jeden z moich ulubionych wierszy. Ostatnio.

Ale ja, wiedząc że to bezpodstawne i głupie, do Teda Hughesa mam pretensję o to, że nie kochał jak należy Sylvii Plath. Może nie umiał.
Paulina Filipek

Paulina Filipek radca prawny

Temat: ...a może w języku Szekspira...?

Podobno Bono napisał ten tekst dla swojego najmłodszego dziecka. Napisał w każdym razie w taki sposób, że może ten wiersz uchodzić również za jedno z najpiękniejszych wyznań miłosnych.

Original Of The Species

Baby slow down
The end is not as fun as the start
Please stay a child somewhere in your heart

I'll give you everything you want
Except the thing that you want
You are the first one of your kind

And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
And I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want the lot of what you got
And I want nothing that you're not

Everywhere you go you shout it
You don't have to be shy about it

Some things you shouldn't get too good at
Like smiling, crying and celebrity
Some people got way too much confidence baby

I'll give you everything you want
Except the thing that you want
You are the first one of your kind

And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want the lot of what you got
And I want nothing that you're not

Everywhere you go you shout it
You don't have to be shy about it, no
And you'll never be alone
Come on now show your soul
You've been keeping your love under control

Everywhere you go you shout it
You don't have to be shy about it
Everywhere you go you shout it
Oh my my

And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want you some more, I want you some more...

Lyrics: BonoPaulina G. edytował(a) ten post dnia 08.03.08 o godzinie 01:32



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