Category Archives: Poetry

Večer

…from the quills of the dead white poets Fráňa Šrámek (1877 -1952) Přetiché ruce modřínů a tišší ještě tvář, v těch tichých rukách spočinu a zahledím se v tvář: Co bylo, už se jenom zdá, co zdálo se, je blíž, … Continue reading

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“No, Not with You…”

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Mikhail Lermontov (1814 – 1841) 1841 No, not with you I fell in love so fast, And not for me your beauty is succeeding; I love in you my suffering preceding, … Continue reading

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Večer

  …from the quills of the dead white poets Fráňa Šrámek (1877 -1952) Přetiché ruce modřínů a tišší ještě tvář, v těch tichých rukách spočinu a zahledím se v tvář: Co bylo, už se jenom zdá, co zdálo se, je … Continue reading

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England’s Answer

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man. Flesh of the flesh … Continue reading

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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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My Soul Is Dark

…from the quills of dead white poets Lord Byron (1788 – 1824) My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmur o’er mine ear. … 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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