Two Poems

There are several great Brazilian poets, my favorite being Manuel Bandeira. However, all the translations I found in internet are not good. I am posting one of is many wonderful verses in Portugues (at the end). And I would love to share one of my favorite poems – this one from the Greek K. Kavafis.


As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:
you’ ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon – you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind –
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
and this is the meaning of Ithaca.

Author : Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis


Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Lá sou amigo do rei
Lá tenho a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Aqui eu ní£o sou feliz
Lá a existíªncia é uma aventura
De tal modo inconseqüente
Que Joana a Louca de Espanha
Rainha e falsa demente
Vem a ser contraparente
Da nora que nunca tive

E como farei ginástica
Andarei de bicicleta
Montarei em burro brabo
Subirei no pau-de-sebo
Tomarei banhos de mar!
E quando estiver cansado
Deito na beira do rio
Mando chamar a mí£e-d’água
Pra me contar as histórias
Que no tempo de eu menino
Rosa vinha me contar

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Em Pasárgada tem tudo
É outra civilizaí§í£o
Tem um processo seguro
De impedir a concepí§í£o
Tem telefone automático
Tem alcalóide í  vontade
Tem prostitutas bonitas
Para a gente namorar

E quando eu estiver mais triste
Mas triste de ní£o ter jeito
Quando de noite me der
Vontade de me matar
­ Lá sou amigo do rei ­
Terei a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada.

Author : Manuel Bandeira


  1. sreerup says:

    Hello Mr,Paulo,

    Thank you so much for Ithaca..
    here is one of my thought, sharing with you and everyone…

    A Simple Comparison!!!!!!!!
    Simplicity is nothing but an illusion …. an illusion which has many facets and many flaws …. even simple water has so many uses and contains many allergens …. the water which has passed through the body a thousand times …. Yet we gladly drink it to quench our thirst and offer ‘jal’ to God ….. This water is the neccesity of every living creature hence 3/4 of the Earth is covered in it …. the small vapours we release after each breath we let out contains this water …. each breath we take in does so also …. One can survive for many weeks without food …. but only days without water …. to drink, wash, bathe, clean ….. can we use food for so many purposes ??? … No! …. The food can be very healthy, spicy, bland, tasty, so many varieties …. everyone has their likes and dislikes ….. LOL! …. who has a dislike for water ???? LOL …. This is similarly true in the case of Love and Lust also …. Love is like water to the thirsty ….. and Lust is like food …. (just to put it simply this is) …. One can survive without satisfying the Lust but not the thirst …. This world is dehydrating more and more day by day …. cos the hunger is slowly taking over the thirst …. hence they think in 50yrs time there will be no Banana trees left in the world! …. If the human carries on consuming Chicken as they are ….. in 100 yrs the chicken will also be extinct! …. How many people drink and use water daily …. but will the world dry out? …. Droughts are a warning to allow us to remember the importance of this transparent substance …. which people no longer value as they should ….. Value the ‘water’ and ignore the ‘lust’ …

  2. Maria says:

    Amo vc e morrooooooo de ciumes qdo todas ganham beijo e só eu ní£o!!!!!!

    Vc me mata de amor viu :/

    “Eu nunca mais vou respirar se vc ní£o me notar”…:)

    Obrigada pelo seu trabalho


    Deus te ilumine

  3. Nitin says:

    PC ,,
    Ithaca is one of the best poems I had ever come across .. The way it goes around celebrating all the hardships and experiences one gains out of solving problems on our way to the goal is simply superb .. Thank you for introducing us to this superb poem ..

  4. Angela MO Reyes says:

    Algunas veces como todo ser en la tierra siento quebrarme; ver a donde voy y porque voy
    es algo que llega como una ola
    te puede sacar a flote o quiza llevarte consigo..
    Itaca es eso algo que te lleva a todo
    entregando todo sin esperar más recompensa
    que tu propia itaca

    1. Empié says:

      A por ella…

  5. genie says:

    “As long as you keep your thoughts raised high”,Thanks for a wonderful insight , my journey is already blessed.

  6. Hala Hoagland says:

    All this wonderful sharing of poems has inspired me to place some words, thank you Paulo and everyone for brightening my once gray morning


    Dismantling dreaming flying scoring soaring

    Cold breeze of blue diamonds gently spinning above my heart

    Into a celestial perception of truth

    Flowing in gently as a effervescent let go

    Touching every second of a flowering disposition

    The wind flows slightly between the eyebrows

    Into the heaven of my dreams

    Floating away runways in eclectic holiday inns

    With premier stays and golden signs

    Free for me the invisible me

    Lifting into the essence of slowly kindled fire

    With someone whom makes me feel like I have synesthesia

    Brightening my nose as I go forth into every-thing-ness

    One-ness that tastes beauty in its sublest flavors of colors

    Which let me go with-out resistence to the substance of subsistence

    Where do we go when no is as far away as illumination was yesterday

    When we were stuck between the raw nerves of the back and the old snow of the cleanest breathe

    Reaching for the light of twinkling bells of sailor’s sails

    Where you can return to careening the slipstream of our mind’s ascending vibration

    Extending to more remarkable rambunctious butterflies a semblance of purple fire power

    To ignite the motion beneath the snowhorses and the fireworks of the beginning benison of
    No-ing what spots and flowers have in common as rainbows deliver the waterfalls of a
    Racing new freedom where a white wolf joins up and cuddles in the spruce tree

    Higher into the spaces

    Clouds of dolphins and surreal lights of the eternal ocean of holiday exile-ra-tion*

    Drop-drop-drop into the turtle waddle and polar bear tattle
    Lilac spring
    Panda tears
    Over the grass blade
    Supporting the tiger stripes and salmon expanse

    Covering the gray dance of once enraged storms of golden gates
    Into twirling fates
    A feverish match to catapult into speaking in the language of fast and slow radiance
    Oh eyes where art thou

    Where art thou when the body has been removed into the whispher of collocation of joy and pleasurable pain
    Of the release of my inner caldera
    Where something in the music tries to steal me
    It’s when I say yes that I finally know what it means to

    F-eather weight tender cry of why?

    Didn’t know before then that elation had been a stranger to me…………….

  7. margherita says:

    Caro Paulo,
    ho letto questa poesia come introduzione su uno dei tuoi libri ma in questo momento non ricordo quale.
    Me lo potresti ricordare tu, per favore?

  8. Annie says:

    Dedicated to all WOLs

    Growing in spirit by Cavafy

    He who hopes to grow in spirit
    will have to transcend obedience and respect.
    He will hold to some laws
    but he will mostly violate
    both law and custom, and go beyond
    the established inadequate norm.
    Sensual pleasures will have much to teach him.
    He will not be afraid of the destructive act:
    Half the house will have to come down.
    This way he will grow virtuously into wisdom.


    Love and Gratitude

  9. Jayeeta says:

    Life is eternal journey towards the sea of eternity without abiding for anyone however a rich or mighty; and we start journey through pilgrims,adventure through spiral roads among the hairpin bends , these cling our lives like golden mist.
    I experienced such type of journeys two times;one of these was most dignified temple of India,the roads were strewn with difficulties,stray snow fall made me enthralled,sudden rains tried to thwart my journey;but eventually I reached there; I confronted people of different modes-some were distributing food to the pilgrims in search of virtue,some kept on their trade cry,some feeble old men were walking through the tough roads in the name of God.
    Actually these journeys are not only for venerating but for own satisfaction also;it supports us to say ” I am such a pious person”
    in his eighties Atish Dipankar walked through the Himalayas,Vasco da gama started journey with hooligans,Marco Polo initiated journey almost single handedly-so,the volition for journey is in the core of us,it never bothers about the result.
    for memory or for forgetting we go on……..

  10. Jayeeta says:

    Life is eternal journey towards the sea of eternity without abiding for anyone however a rich or mighty; and the journey through pilgrims,adventure through spiral roads among the hairpin bends & these cling our lives like golden mist.
    I experienced such type of journeys two times;one of these was most dignified temple of India,the roads were strewn with difficulties,stray snow fall made me enthralled,sudden rains tried to thwart my journey;but eventually I reached there; I confronted people of different modes-some were distributing food to the pilgrims in search of virtue,some kept on their trade cry,some feeble old men were walking through the tough roads in the name of God.
    Actually these journeys are not only for venerating but for own satisfaction also;it supports us to say ” I am such a pious person”
    in his eighties Atish Dipankar walked through the Himalayas,Vasco da gama started journey with hooligans,Marco Polo initiated journey almost single handedly-so,the volition for journey is in the core of us,it never bothers about the result.
    for memory or for forgetting we go on……..

  11. anastasia says:

    Ithaca is one of my favorite poems, that i was taught in greek school! I’m glad to see it in your blog I

    1. Hala Hoagland says:

      what Ithaca makes me think of most is the hidden memories, the lessons to be learned from each city’s inheritance-why not being a tourist but a visitor is so important.

  12. Daniel says:

    Ah-ha moment. I think the three drops of oil we all wonder about could be called Ithaca!

    1. Annie says:

      that was exactly my thought Daniel ! :o)

  13. kealan says:

    The Lake Isle Of Innisfree

    I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
    And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
    Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
    And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

    And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
    Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
    There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
    And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

    I will arise and go now, for always night and day
    I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
    While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
    I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

    by William Butler Yeats

  14. Marie-Christine says:

    The school of life

    It is there to push you forward and beyond.
    It digs down to the core of the matter – YOUR SOUL –
    It does not need any words – it goes beyond that.
    It is cosy.
    It is like a promise that makes a child happy
    It is re-assuring and comforting.
    It teaches you discipline tasks and to believe in yourself.
    It turns your obsessions into strengths
    It is humane.
    It is international.
    It breaks all barriers – religions, ages, races and genders.
    It is a different kind of a war.
    It is tough.
    It is full of wisdom.
    It is plain common sense.
    It teaches you appreciation of the smallest task.
    It is simple and very fulfilling.
    It is the essence of being.
    It is You in the making.
    It is a gift that is appreciated.
    It is a soul-searching delight.

    It is a commitment.

    L’ecole de la vie

    Elle est la pour te faire avancer et au-dela
    Elle est enfouie au plus profond de soi – ton ame –
    Les mots ne sont pas toujours necessaires – elle va au-dessus de ca.
    Elle est comme une “promesse” qui rend les enfants joyeux.
    Elle nous rassure et nous conseille.
    Elle nous enseigne le travail de la discipline et de croire en nous.
    Elle change nos obsessions en force.
    Elle est remplie d’humanite.
    Elle est internationale.
    Elle rompt toutes les barrieres : religion, age, race et gendre.
    Elle est la pour partager et communiquer
    C’est une guerre avec une difference.
    C’est la bataille contre la verite.
    Elle est robuste.
    Elle est remplie de sagesse.
    Elle appelle les choses par leur nom : le bon sens.
    Elle nous enseigne l’appreciation dans les plus petites besognes.
    Elle est simple et profondement satisfaisante.
    C’est l’essence meme de notre existence.
    C’est Toi en cours de developpement.
    C’est un cadeau qui est apprecie.
    C’est l’ecole de la vie.
    C’est un examen de conscience delicieux.

    C’est un engagement.

    Dear Paulo, my friend,
    This is what I have learned at the school of life on this blog.
    With thanks and appreciation for everything.

    1. Nancy says:

      I really like your poem. Thanks for putting it on the blog.

    2. Hala Hoagland says:

      thank you for inviting us to me ‘it’, a place that shows the humane in the mundane and I agree in the end, it all comes to commitment, being engaged with the world, with others.

  15. barbara korycinska says:

    I don’t know who done this but it cought my attention and it’s beautiful.

    1. sreerup says:

      would you pls share the link with me

  16. Sheela nandini says:


    Life is the name given to a few moments,and
    In but one of those fleeting moments
    Two eyes meet eloquently
    Looking up from a cup of tea,and
    Enter the heart piercingly
    And say,
    Today do not speak
    I’ll be silent too
    Let’s just sit thus.
    Holding each other’s hand
    United by this gift of sorrow
    Bonded by the stirring of emotions.
    Who knows if in this very moment
    Somewhere in the distant mountain
    The snow at last may start to thaw.

    (Translated by Pavan.K.Varma)

    1. Heimo Kruschinski says:


    2. Daniel says:

      That sent a shiver up my spine, and made ne smile at the memory of my grandmother whose hand I held to the last. Our last cup of tea befor the snow melted and she re-entered the stream. :)

  17. shine says:

    Thank You :)

  18. Heimo Kruschinski says:

    Wonderful poetry! Even as a small child I loved the Greek myths. That has not changed until today. Only one word. Great! I love it!!
    I wish you all a nice day

  19. barbara korycinska says:

    Mr.Coelho, thank you for introducing the author, what a nice poem, love poetry. Here’s one that is special to me.

    More Strong Than Time by Victor Hugo

    Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
    Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
    Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
    And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

    Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
    The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
    Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
    Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

    Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
    A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
    Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime’s stream,
    Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

    I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
    Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
    Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
    One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

    Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
    The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
    My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
    My soul more love than you can make my soul forget

    1. Hala Hoagland says:

      this one does leave us breatheless, as through taste we experience feeling

  20. Annie says:

    And another one from Cavafy i LOVE

    Days to come stand in front of us
    like a row of lighted candles””
    golden, warm, and vivid candles.

    Days gone by fall behind us,
    a gloomy line of snuffed-out candles;
    the nearest are smoking still,
    cold, melted, and bent.

    I don’t want to look at them: their shape saddens me,
    and it saddens me to remember their original light.
    I look ahead at my lighted candles.

    I don’t want to turn for fear of seeing, terrified,
    how quickly that dark line gets longer,
    how quickly the snuffed-out candles proliferate.


    It’s wise to set out for Ithaca before the candles burn out..

    love and gratitude

    1. Daniel says:

      Do not cry because it’s over, smile because it happened! ~Dr Zeuss

  21. coolguy1609 says:

    It is a custom in Indian temples to first take one round of it’s circumference before you enter inside! The outer walls of the temple have carvings or paintings of material life and the trip around it called ‘parikrama’ signifies the journey of life one has to have before you enter the temple within yourself!!!


  22. Jojo says:


  23. maria emilia says:

    Saudade da nossa terra Paulo? Se for venha logo para cá !! Rsrsrs até mais…

  24. Suela says:

    Kavafis is my favourite poet!I am glad to see that he is one of your favourites too.Kavafis is a great figure to Greeks.He has inspired many generations.We are lucky here in Greece to have such a great heritation of poets and their work.Check on Costas Karyotakis, Yiannis Ritsos, Odysseas Elytis,Giorgos Seferis,Costas Varnalis and many others.

  25. THELMA says:
    Ιθάκη του Κωνσταντίνου Καβάφη.
    Some times even if we do not understand a language it is wonderful to listen to its music.. Even more when it is poetry, which is … music! I am sure for you, dear Paulo Coelho and friends Warriors, it sounds GREEK to you!!! ;-))

    I am sure we all know the story of Odysseys wandering in the seas for ten years after the Trojan War.. Greek mythology is so fascinating..

    A nice aero-photo of Ithaca. Thank you. I have never been there.. It seems that our next trip to Greece will include visiting Ithaca in the Ionian Sea.
    Thelma xxx

  26. Bello.Persona enamorada.

  27. eleonora says:

    meravigliosa,meraviglioso tu Paulo… per la grazia con la quale ci rendi partecipi delle poesie e autori, che ti hanno emozionato e ti emozionano…Nel cuore****

  28. Gabriel says:


    Today is not an ordinary day…
    A day where everyone is freeing their emotions…
    A day where forgotten relationships are refreshed…
    A day where love will celebrate
    It’s a happy heart’s day.

    Today is not an ordinary day.
    A day where some hearts are weeping…
    A day where some relationships are broken….
    A day where nobody cares but u…
    It’s a lonely heart’s day!

    Today is not an ordinary day…
    A day where some are confused…
    A day where good friendships start…
    A day we could be happy or not

    1. Daniel says:

      Nice! There are no ordinary days! ;)

  29. katie says:

    just arrived here with curiosity for warren’s poem that is so nice & deep.

    ithaca …
    I remember it just appeared in one comment that I then followed up & saw for the first time.
    it just initiates those feelings I had when doing “islands jumping” in greece.

    christmas time…
    since I joined the blog last year, it becomes a more & more sacred time. there is a feeling for symbolism of christmas, that may talk to me in such a way that it becomes religion independent.
    no wonder that I had to meet this poem again :o)
    I am so grateful for all your work on this blog, Paulo, Suphi & whoever helps :o), and of course, you WOLs!
    Thank you all.

    1. katie says:

      funny to read all comments :o)

      “you’ll never find things like that on your way
      as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
      as long as a rare excitement
      stirs your spirit and your body.”

      this poem has everything. always wanted to make a painting of it….
      may be it’s time. now that it comes up again :o)
      thanks paulo for your beautiful choices <3

    2. Annie says:

      Yes, do it! <3

  30. warren says:


    On the white throat of the useless passion that scorched my soul with it’s burning breath.
    I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion and gathered them close in a grasp of death. For
    why should i fan or feed with fuel a love that showed but blank despair.
    So my hold was firm and my grasp was cruel as i aimed to strangle it then and there.
    I thought it was dead, but with no warning it rose up from it’s grave last night and stood
    by my bed till down, over and over it spoke my name, it’s throat was red were my hands had
    been. It burned my brow with it’s breath,the moment my eyes beheld it, it said,
    (A love like this can know no death). For just one kiss that your lips have given
    in the last beautiful past to me, I would gladly barter my hope of heaven and all
    bliss of eternity.For never a joy are the angles keeping to lay at my feet in paradise.
    Like that into your love lit eyes, i know in the way that sins are reckoned.
    This thought is a sin of the deepest die, but i know to if an angle beckoned, standing close
    to the throne on high and you down by the gates of infernal, you should open your loving
    eyes and smile,i would turn my back on the unknown to lie on your breast a little while.
    to know for an hour you were mine, completely mine in body & soul. I would bear unending
    tortures sweetly, with not a mummer & not a moan. A lighter sin or a lesser error, might
    change through hope or fear Divine, but there is no fear & hell has no terror that could
    change or alter, a love like mine.

    warren stevens
    3:30 am to 5:30 am

  31. Jane Stewart says:

    Why Wait?
    – Anonymous

    Why do we wait ’til a man is gone
    before we tell him of his worth?
    Why not tell him now
    he’s the finest man on earth!

    Why do we wait ’til the person is gone
    to send him flowers galore?
    When a single rose would have meant so much
    if we had taken it to his door.

    Why do we wait ’til he cannot hear
    the good things we might say
    Why put it off, why not tell him now
    and share his joy today

    Of course we’re busy, that’s our excuse
    but why oh why do we wait
    To tell a person our love for him
    until it becomes too late?

    1. Gopal says:

      The reason why we respect the dead because they stop competing with us

    2. gudiya says:

      Hello Jane
      This is a lovely poem . I think the biggest factor which prevents any relation to grow & spoils the relation most often is to take others for granted.

  32. Emily says:

    I’m very moved because you chose this particular poem because I’m from Greece.

    I think this poem has such a beutiful meaning : it doesn’t matter what your destination is, what matters is what you find along the way.


  33. Iwan Jooste says:

    Dear Mr Coelho

    I have always admired your work – there is even great beauty in the silent spaces between your words. Here is a piece of my work – I’m not quite sure why I chose this one to send.

    Love and light,


    “Blue moon of Kentucky, keep on a-shinin'”
    Ended up in India
    The waves beneath my feet
    Perhaps it was some other place?
    (The Darkness has no memory)

    “Shine on the one that’s gone and left me blue”
    Stood drowning
    My tidal limbs submerged
    Lunar love’s a slow eclipse
    (Our Sea of Tranquility)

    “It was on one moonlit night, stars shinin’ bright”
    These scissor hands are islands
    Marooned below this heart
    Apocalyptic passion ruled from the start
    (Karma – a voracious wheel)

    “Whispered on high, love said goodbye”
    Contemplate her sorry flight
    Flames of change that brought new life
    Each day’s a death within a death
    (Ghandi? Louisville? Me – or fate?)




  34. Kristina says:

    (Serbia) Mozda spava – Vladislav Petkovic – DIS

    Zaboravio sam jutros pesmu jednu ja,
    Pesmu jednu u snu sto sam svu noc slusao:
    Da je cujem uzalud sam danas kusao,
    Kao da je pesma bila sreca moja sva.
    Zaboravio sam jutros pesmu jednu ja.

    U snu svome nisam znao za budjenja moc,
    I da zemlji treba sunca, jutra i zore;
    Da u danu gube zvezde bele odore;
    Bledi mesec da se krece u umrlu noc.
    U snu svome nisam znao za budjenja moc.

    Ja sad jedva mogu znati da imadoh san,
    I u njemu oci neke, nebo necije,
    Neko lice, ne znam kakvo, mozda decije,
    Staru pesmu, stare zvezde, neki stari dan.
    Ja sad jedva mogu znati da imadoh san.

    Ne secam se niceg vise, ni ociju tih:
    Kao da je san mi ceo bio od pene,
    Il’ te oci da su moja dusa van mene,
    Ni arije, ni sveg drugog, sto ja nocas snih;
    Ne secam se niceg vise, ni ociju tih.

    Ali slutim, a slutiti jos znam.
    Ja sad slutim za te oci, da su bas one,
    Sto me cudno po zivotu vode i gone:
    U snu dodju, da me vide, sta li radim sam.
    Ali slutim, a slutiti jos jedino znam.

    Da me vide dodju oci, i ja vidim tad
    I te oci, i tu ljubav, i taj put srece;
    Njene oci, njeno lice, njeno prolece
    U snu vidim, ali ne znam, sto ne vidim sad.
    Da me vide, dodju oci, i ja vidim tad.

    Njenu glavu s krunom kose i u kosi cvet,
    I njen pogled sto me gleda kao iz cveca,
    Sto me gleda, sto mi kaze, da me oseca,
    Sto mi brizno pruza odmor i neznosti svet,
    Njenu glavu s krunom kose i u kosi cvet.

    Ja sad nemam svoju dragu, i njen ne znam glas;
    Ne znam mesto na kom zivi ili pociva;
    Ne znam zasto nju i san mi java pokriva;
    Mozda spava, i grob tuzno neguje joj stas.
    Ja sad nemam svoju dragu, i njen ne znam glas.

    Mozda spava sa ocima izvan svakog zla,
    Izvan stvari, iluzija, izvan zivota,
    I s njom spava, nevidjena, njena lepota;
    Mozda zivi i doci ce posle ovog sna.
    Mozda spava sa ocima izvan svakog zla.

  35. Olga says:

    ítaca, también. Si hay algún otro, es de Rubén.

  36. Erik Laarman says:

    “Red mij niet” (Dutch: Don’t save me) – translation follows

    Leg een steen onder je kussen
    Brand voor mijn part een kaars
    Slacht een lam
    Maar red mij niet

    Zet een rare muts op
    Duw briefjes in een muur
    Voorspel de toekomst
    Maar red mij niet

    Laat je baard staan
    Ach man, laat je baard staan
    Red mij niet

    Trek een jurk aan
    Ach man, trek een mooie lange jurk aan
    Maar red mij niet

    Restaureer je kerk
    Stuur je kinderen ten oorlog
    Lees handen tot je blind bent
    Maar red mij niet

    Slik vitamienen tegen kanker
    Was je handen in vuur
    Versier je voorhoofd met een stip
    Maar red mij niet

    Jouw hemel
    is voor mij de hel
    Een hemel met jou
    Is de hel voor mij

    Richt je billen naar het westen
    Zeg dagenlang hetzelfde woord
    Laat je bevrijden door een UFO
    Maar red mij niet

    Loop met fakkels door de straten
    Zeg dat het lukt als je maar wil
    Ga op je knieí«n tot ze blauw zien
    Maar red mij niet

    Laat mij in mijn zeven sloten
    Laat mij de draad volslagen kwijt
    Aan gezelligheid ten onder
    Richting eindeloze tijd

    Uit volle borst op weg naar nergens
    Zonder reden zonder doel
    Met m’n zeden en m’n zonden
    En mijn angstig voorgevoel
    Laat mij mijn kont tegen de krib
    Laat mij dit goddeloze lied
    Hef jij je handen maar ten hemel
    Maar red mij niet

    (c) Maarten van Roozendaal

    This is a song by Maarten van Roosendaal. The youtube link follows after the translation.

    For the ones who can’t read Dutch, I gave it a shot to translate the lyrics. But some sayings can’t be translated. Or I don’t know the saying in English.

    “Laat mij in mijn zeven sloten” means litterally “Leave me in my seven ditches”, doing too much at the same time (chaotic).

    In Dutch “Ach man laat je baard staan.” gets a double meaning. It litterally means Oh man grow a beard. But in Dutch “Achman, or Ahman (pronounced with a harsh gggg), sounds like an Arabic name also.

    “Don’t save me”

    Put a stone under your pillow
    Burn a candle, whatever
    Slaughter a lamb
    But don’t save me.

    Put on a funny hat
    Put letters in a wall
    Predict the future
    But don’t save me.

    Grow a beard
    Oh man, grow a beard
    But don’t save me.

    Wear a dress
    Oh man, wear a nice long dress
    But don’t save me.

    Restore your church
    Send your children to war
    Read hands until you’re blind
    But don’t save me.

    Swallow vitamins against cancer
    Wash your hands in fire
    Decorate your forehead with a dot
    But don’t save me.

    Your heaven
    Is the hell for me
    A heaven with you
    Is like hell for me.

    Direct your ass to the west
    Say the same word day by day
    Get yourself liberated by a UFO
    But don’t save me.

    Walk with torches through the streets
    Say it works if only you want it
    Get on your knees until they’re blue
    But don’t save me

    Let me kept too busy with no sense at all
    Let me totally lose my way
    Losing my soul having fun
    On my way to eternity

    Singing loudly on my way to nowhere
    Without reason, without goal
    With my morality and my sins
    And with my feelings of anxiety
    Leave me in my stubbornness
    Leave me this wicked song
    Yes, put your hands up high to heaven,
    But don’t save me
    Don’t save me
    Don’t save me!

    Here is the song:

    I love it when the base comes in. Gives me the goosepocks.

    I hope you love it,

  37. sheila abdalian says:

    The Awakening

    I woke up from my mummified sleep and mistook you for the opium one takes in consolation to forget unhappy events. As days went by I realized that the hallucinations I was experiencing were not the reality I wanted to face and be remembered by. I was the seashore sand burnt by years of sun’s overwhelming heat. However, through some miracle the tides had brought onto my path a mysterious shell which i was eager to explore and share my deepest emotions. To my dismay I foresee a storm coming that would take back to nature the fantasy that lasted like a mist. we belong to two different species of existence. Though time is our enemy I am confident a day would come that you would appreciate why destiny chose to put us aside the other. For now I fear I should retrieve to my old sanctuary to have peace with my own soul. Arrivederci my timeless fog.

  38. Diane DeFruscio says:

    Dear Paulo,

    One more for good measure. I love this poem.

    Peace and love,
    Diane :)

    i carry your heart with me

    i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
    my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
    i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
    by only me is your doing,my darling)
    i fear
    no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
    no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
    and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
    and whatever a sun will always sing is you

    here is the deepest secret nobody knows
    (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
    and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
    higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
    and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

    i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

    ee cummings

  39. Indiscreet

    In my world of fantasy…
    Flawless existence,

    I play the flute
    to hear the sounds of your love
    painting my mind the picture of a lovely dream…

    Why did they bring me here
    Why did they abuse me,
    They took my innocence and
    Did not let me see…

    We walk on sacred ground
    Climb on top of the mount,
    The essence of life fires me up inside
    And keeps me alive…

    I shut out reality
    And live as I please.

    Don’t tell me where to go,
    Don’t tell me what to do,
    Don’t shove your laws down my throat
    Don’t show me your insanity…
    Your policies were not meant for me.

    You came not knowing who you were,
    Followed the footsteps imprinted for you
    Created an illusion of reality.

    Set up your restrictions,
    And placed your constrictions,
    And thought…. That was your happiness.

    The days and hours
    Our calendar unreal

    The shame and respect
    And the fear you bring

    The green paper
    And the 9-5 deal…

    Trying to keep us real?

    Watching our every need,
    Portraying it on TV
    Reassuring the darkness fear
    Now its time to have a brain wash.

    CSG 4/95

  40. aimee says:

    here is one of my favourite poems:

    Someone who use to have someone

    By Miriam Waddington

    There used to be someone
    To whom I could say do you
    Love me and be sure that the
    Answer would always be yes;
    There used to be someone to
    Whom I could telephone and
    Be sure when the operator
    Said do you accept the charges
    The answer would always be yes;
    But now there is no one to ask
    No one to telephone from the
    Strangeness of cities in the
    Lateness of nightness now there
    Is no one always now no one
    No someone no never at all.

    Can you imagine what it is
    Like to live in a world where
    There is no one now always no
    No one and never some some-
    One to ask to you love me and
    Be sure that the answer would
    Always be yes? I live in a world
    Where only the billboards are
    Always they’re twenty feet tall
    And the circle the city they
    Coax and caress me they heat
    Me and cool me they promise and
    Plead me with colour and comfort:
    You get to sleep with me
    Tonight (the me being ovaltine)
    But who want s to get to sleep
    With a cup of ovaltine what
    Kind of sleep is that for some-
    One who used to have someone
    To ask do you love me and
    Be sure that the answer
    Would always be yes?

  41. Josy says:

    sofro de solidí£o intelectual… e de outras que ní£o vem ao caso, também!
    vocíª quer ser meu amigo?

  42. Anastasia Silence says:

    Я выйду на улицу одна
    И быстрым шагом уйду в никуда.
    В одном кармане пачка сигарет,
    В другом как будто ничего и нет.

    Вокруг одна темнота,
    А внутри сплошная пустота.
    Я иду и Бога молю об одном:
    Чтобы он никогда не покинул мой дом.

    Но больше всего я хочу
    Уйти в эту бескрайнюю пустоту.
    Раствориться, забыться, исчезнуть
    Бежать под дождем – утонуть в нем.

    Промокнуть до нитки – упасть
    На небо глянуть и отдать
    Всю душу, чувства, мысли, тело
    Все это просто бросить в небо.

    Расправить крылья – улететь
    Еще раз на все посмотреть
    Взмыть в небо и умереть…
    (Написано мной в 2004 году)

    – Отдать тебе любовь?
    – Отдай.
    – Она в грязи.
    – Отдай в грязи.
    – Я погадать хочу.
    – Гадай.
    – Еще хочу спросить.
    – Спроси.
    – Допустим, постучусь.
    – Впущу.
    – Допустим, позову.
    – Приду.
    – А если там беда?
    – Ð’ беду.
    – А если обману?
    – Прощу.
    – “Спой!” – прикажу тебе.
    – Спою.
    – Запри для друга дверь.
    – Запру.
    – Скажу тебе: убей!
    – Убью.
    – Скажу тебе: умри!
    – Умру.
    – А если захлебнусь?
    – Спасу.
    – А если будет боль?
    – Стерплю.
    – А если вдруг стена?
    – Снесу.
    – А если узел?
    – Разрублю.
    – А если 100 узлов?
    – И 100.
    – Любовь тебе отдать?
    – Любовь.
    – Не будет этого!
    – За что?!
    – За то, что не люблю рабов.
    Автор: Роберт Рождественский

  43. Alida Pham says:

    Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
    Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
    It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
    We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
    Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
    Your playing small does not serve the world.
    There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
    We are all meant to shine, as children do.
    We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
    It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
    And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
    As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

    By Marianne Williamson from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles