Author Archives: Paul Jacko

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.

Podzim

  …from the quills of the dead white poets   Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Hle, stříbrná hvězda v modřínech tryskla na pokraji lesa. A zádumčivý večer závoj stáh na svět i duše. Kdes v pustnoucí vile alt vroucí zpívá. … Continue reading

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When you are old

…from the quills of the dead white poets William Ernest Henley 1849 -1903 When you are old, and I am passed away – Passed, and your face, your golden face is gray – I think, whate’er the end, this dream … Continue reading

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“Night, Streets, the Lantern…”

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Alexandr Alexandrovich Blok (1880 – 1921) Night, streets, the lantern, the drugstore, The meaningless and dusky light. A quarter of the century more — All fall the same into your sight! … Continue reading

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Sentimentální žádosti

  …from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914)   Má touha rameno hubené v pláči vášnivém zvedá. Teplo zhaslého plamene v studeném popeli hledá. Sentimentální žádosti v duši mé křídlama tlukou. Má touha pláče a … Continue reading

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Tests

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   All submit to them where they sit, inner, secure, unapproachable to analysis in the soul, Not traditions, not the outer authorities are the judges, They are … Continue reading

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Pokoj s nábytkem

  …from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Šli světem v mladém horování zprvu – a pak již bez zájmu. U starých vdov a mladých paní své žití tráví v podnájmu. Na stěně z oprýskaných … Continue reading

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Year that Trembled and Reel’d beneath Me

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   Year that Trembled and Reel’d beneath Me! Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through … Continue reading

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Březen

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Na naší studni ráno hvízdal kos. Jde jaro, jde jaro. A když jsem okno na sad otvíral, šeptaly pukající pupeny: Jde jaro, jde jaro. Bez chvěje se … Continue reading

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The Dagger

…from the quills of the dead white poets Mikhail Lermontov (1814 – 1841) 1838 Yes, I like you, my knife of damask pledge, My friend so bright and so cold, A thoughtful Georgian forged you for his revenge, A free … Continue reading

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Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau

  …from the quills of the dead white poets William Blake (1757 – 1827) Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau: Mock on, mock on: ‘tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it … Continue reading

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The Grey-Eyed King

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966) Hail! Hail to thee, o, immovable pain! The young grey-eyed king had been yesterday slain. This autumnal evening was stuffy and red. My husband, returning, had … Continue reading

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To Him That was Crucified

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   My spirits to yours dear brother, Do not mind because many sounding your name do not understand you, I do not sound your name, but I … Continue reading

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Švadlenka

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Letní vzduch venku zavoněl prudce. U otevřeného okénka složila znaveně do klína ruce malá, hubená švadlenka. Před sebe v prázdno se zadívala a naslouchala nápěvu, jejž na strunách … Continue reading

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To Rich Givers

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   What you give me I cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money, as I rendezvous with my poems, A traveler’s lodging … Continue reading

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Verše

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Kam došli jste kdo? V záři hvězd Pod cizím nebem bloudili jsme spolu, snílkové z jiných dob. Vzpomínám. Střecha má drahá mi jest jak rodná země, jež … Continue reading

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A Dream

…from the quills of the dead white poets Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849) In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what … Continue reading

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Youth, Day, Old Age and Night

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   Youth, large, lusty, loving – youth full of grace, force, fascination, Do you know that Old Age may come after you with equal grace, force, fascination? … Continue reading

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Prosinec

…from the quills of the dead white poets Karel Toman (1877 – 1946) Šla do Betléma rovná cesta, zářila hvězda, všechno bylo prosté. A za nábožných písní sny otců našich věčně putovaly po starém mostě. Byl, nebyl Betlém? Však na … Continue reading

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When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) When I heard the learn’d astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, … Continue reading

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The White Man’s Burden 1899

…from the quills of dead white poets Rudyard Kipling ( 1865 – 1936) Take up the White man’s burden — Send forth the best ye breed — Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need; To wait … Continue reading

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