here is a link to translations....

Pour toi mon amour - For you my love
Le Cancre - The Dunce
La grasse matinee -

this is hard to translate - it is a double entendre -
grasse is fat, fatty, greasy, rich but used with
matinee (morning) it is a colloquial expression to
sleep in - "faire la grasse matinee" means to sleep in late

so, i would translate it as "The Morning of Excess"

Le jardin - The garden

http://xtream.online.fr/Prevert/indexeng.html

He is astounding. "it baffles science" W.C. Fields

Wonderful! Thank you!

Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of
Children.'

And he said:



Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent
forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.

Kahlil Gibran

Beauty

And a poet said, 'Speak to us of Beauty.'

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she
herself be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, 'Beauty is kind and gentle.

Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.'

And the passionate say, 'Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.

Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.'

The tired and the weary say, 'beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks
in our spirit.

Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear
of the shadow.'

But the restless say, 'We have heard her shouting among the mountains,

And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and
the roaring of lions.'

At night the watchmen of the city say, 'Beauty shall rise with the dawn
from the east.'

And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, 'we have seen her
leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.'

In winter say the snow-bound, 'She shall come with the spring leaping
upon the hills.'

And in the summer heat the reapers say, 'We have seen her dancing with
the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.'

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you
hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a
claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in
flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

Kahlil Gibran

IN YOU THE EARTH


Little
rosee,
roselet,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I'll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips;
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you have loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarecely measure the sky's most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.

PABLO NERUDA

(((((Jess)))))

Thank you for sharing! I so love Kahlil Gibran.

The Wants of Man

"MAN wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
'Tis not with me exactly so;
But 'tis so in the song.
My wants are many and, if told,
Would muster many a score;
And were each wish a mint of gold,
I still should long for more.

What first I want is daily bread --
And canvas-backs, -- and wine --
And all the realms of nature spread
Before me, when I dine.
Four courses scarcely can provide
My appetite to quell;
With four choice cooks from France beside,
To dress my dinner well.

What next I want, at princely cost,
Is elegant attire :
Black sable furs for winter's frost,
And silks for summer's fire,
And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace
My bosom's front to deck, --
And diamond rings my hands to grace,
And rubies for my neck.

I want (who does not want?) a wife, --
Affectionate and fair;
To solace all the woes of life,
And all its joys to share.
Of temper sweet, of yielding will,
Of firm, yet placid mind, --
With all my faults to love me still
With sentiment refined.

And as Time's car incessant runs,
And Fortune fills my store,
I want of daughters and of sons
From eight to half a score.
I want (alas! can mortal dare
Such bliss on earth to crave?)
That all the girls be chaste and fair, --
The boys all wise and brave.

I want a warm and faithful friend,
To cheer the adverse hour,
Who ne'er to flatter will descend,
Nor bend the knee to power, --
A friend to chide me when I'm wrong,
My inmost soul to see;
And that my friendship prove as strong
For him as his for me.

I want the seals of power and place,
The ensigns of command;
Charged by the People's unbought grace
To rule my native land.
Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask
But from my country's will,
By day, by night, to ply the task
Her cup of bliss to fill.

I want the voice of honest praise
To follow me behind,
And to be thought in future days
The friend of human-kind,
That after ages, as they rise,
Exulting may proclaim
In choral union to the skies
Their blessings on my name.

These are the Wants of mortal Man, --
I cannot want them long,
For life itself is but a span,
And earthly bliss -- a song.
My last great Want -- absorbing all --
Is, when beneath the sod,
And summoned to my final call,
The Mercy of my God.

John Quincy Adams
Washington, August 31, 1841.

Thank you Walker

"With all my faults to love me still"

I love that line

your welcome lovely

La Vita Nuova

In that book which is
My memory . . .
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words . . .
Here begins a new life

- Dante Alighieri

ohhhhhhhh goosebumps!!!!!!!

Jenni I love that! Thank you!!!!

She Walks In Beauty


She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
-Lord Byron


I do so love this one, something that my momma had shared with me many
many years ago

ABSENCE


I have scarcely left you
when you go in me, crystalline,
or tembling,
or uneasy, wounded by me
or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that without cease I give you.

My love
we have found each other
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
hungry
and we bit each other
as fire bites,
leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,
keep for me your sweetness.
I will give to you
a rose.

PABLO NERUDA

I don't know writers, and have never read a book through,
but here I will write YOU this one brand NEW!

Smiles.
To make your face stretch all out of place.
To help you put-up with the whole human race.
To let everyone know you can, keep up the pace.
To show them all you've invaded their space.
To give them no warning, not even a trace.
To just place your sweet smile upon your face.

Thank you! That makes me smile Iam4u!

from a hebrew poet of spain...14th cent i think
i need to recheck the attribution but...

In Praise of Your Eyes

Love, who would believe that your eyes
are carried up in a whirlwind to heaven?
But it is a fact:
I see them in the skies at twilight,
and in your shining face by day.

My life hangs upun the earrings in your ears,
for they bewitch me with Egyptian sorcery.
delight of my eyes,
I shall always behold your dawn-star [eyes]
and your hail white [teeth].

Tell me, lovely gazelle:
do you take the stars of heaven for your eyes,
holding them captive by day,
and when night comes let them go back to heaven?

Or are your eyes the likeness of the stars,
and is the light of your face
the image of the heavenly spheres?
For, in fact, all the other gazelles,
compared to you,
are no more than drops from a bucket,
or specks of dust on the scales.

s1ow

That is wonderful! Do you know the name of that poet? I want more .....

i'm checking it with the friend who gave it
to me. yes indeed it is very beautiful...imho

Really loved the Neruda piece you posted Sherrie

I come here once in awhile to feed my hungry soul, thank you for making this a place that fills this need.

Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi (Fortune, Empress of the World)

Verse 1.

O Fortuna
velut luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem,
potestatem
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata shadowed
et velata and veiled
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis
et virtutis
michi nunc contraria,
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
Hac in hora
sine mora
corde pulsum tangite;
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!


*************************
*************************

O Fortuna,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

Fate - monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.

Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the string man,
everyone weep with me!

from the Carmina Burana