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Poesie : in lingua inglese poesie > in lingua inglese

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Angina pectoris

If half my heart is here, doctor,
the other half is in China
with the army flowing toward the Yellow River.
And, every morning, doctor,
every morning at sunrise
my heart is shot in Greece.
And every night, doctor, when the prisoners are asleep
and the infirmary is deserted,
my heart stops at a run-down old house in Istanbul.
And then after ten years
all I have to offer my poor people is this apple in my hand,
doctor, one read apple: my heart.
And that, doctor, that is the reason
for this angina pectoris –
not nicotine, prison, or arteriosclerosis.
I look at the night through the bars,
and despite the weight on my chest
my heart still beats with the most distant stars.

Nazim Hikmet

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Prayer for peace

Oh Great Spirit who duells in the sky
lead us to the path of peace and understandig
let us all live together like brothers and sisters

Native American Indians

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Frank Drummer

Out of a cell into this darkened space —
The end at twenty-five!
My tongue could not speak what stirred within me,
And the village thought me a fool.
Yet at the start there was a clear vision,
A high and urgent purpose in my soul
Which drove me on trying to memorize
The Encyclopedia Britannica

Edgar Lee Masters

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Why was Cupid a Boy...

Why was Cupid a Boy
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a Girl
For ought that that I can see;

For he shoots with his bow,
And the Girl shoots with her Eye;
And they both are merry & glad,
And laugh when we do cry.

And to make Cupid a Boy
Was the Cupid Girl's mocking plan;

For a boy can't interpret the thing
Till he is become a man;

And then he's so pierc'd with cares
And wounded with arrowy smarts
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts.

'Twas the Greeks' love of war
Turn'd Love into a Boy
And Woman into a Statue of Stone,
And away fled every Joy.

William Blake

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I died for Beauty but was scarce

I died for Beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?
"For Beauty", I replied
"And I for Truth Themself are One
We Brethren, are", He said

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night
We talked between the Rooms
Until the Moss had reached our lips
And covered up our names

Emily Dickinson

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