Category Archives: Poetry

Motýl

. ..from the quills of the dead white poets Petr Bezruč (1867 – 1958) Přes smrky, břemy, přes haluze jedlí lehounký vánek se skřivánkem zvednul; přes řeku vzpomínek loďky snů bředly, motýl mi naruku sednul. Láska jsi, štěstí jsi, sličný … Continue reading

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The Children

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) The Children 1914-1918 “The Honours of War” – A Diversity of Creatures These were our children who died for our land: they were dear in our sight. … Continue reading

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The French Wars

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936 (Napoleonic) The boats of Newhaven and Folkestone and Dover To Dieppe and Boulogne and to Calais cross over; And in each of those runs there is not … Continue reading

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Perspektiva

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Má milá rozmilá, neplakej! Život už není jinakej. Dnes buďme ještě veselí na naší bílé posteli! Zejtra, co zejtra! Kdožpak ví, Zejtra si lehneme do rakví.

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A Boy Scouts’ Patrol Song

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) These are our regulations — There’s just one law for the Scout And the first and the last, and the present and the past, And the future … Continue reading

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Not the pilot

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) Not the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship into port, though beaten back and many time baffled; Not the pathfinder penetrating inland weary and long, … Continue reading

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City of Orgies

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)   City of orgies, walks and joys, City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make you illustrious, Not the pageants … Continue reading

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To je teď celá moudrost moje

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) To je teď celá moudrost moje: Milovat hlučnou vřavu boje, za noci vnikat do snů žen a trochu býti zadlužen, pískat si, jak mi zobák narost, vínem si … Continue reading

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The Voice of the Rain

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower, Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated: I am the Poem of Earth, … Continue reading

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The Power of the Dog

…from the quills of the dead white poets Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936) There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do … Continue reading

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Quicksand years

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) Quicksand years that whirl me I know not wither, Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude me, Only the theme I sing, the … Continue reading

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Rozhovor

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Co zvolils, lepší není to díl. Hleď: Krása ženy, zázrak, který se narodil z mořské pěny! Krev žhne, a ruce se hledají jak ve snách. – Vidím. – … Continue reading

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Australia Day tomorrow

 “Australians are being encouraged to sing the national anthem together at noon on Australia Day as part of a new campaign. The National Australia Day Council (NADC) wants the nation to stop and join a swell of voices singing Advance … Continue reading

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Ballad Against the Enemies of France

…from the quills of the dead white poets Francois Villon (1431 – 1463) May he fall in with beasts that scatter fire, Like Jason, when he sought the fleece of gold, Or change from man to beast three years entire, … Continue reading

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Let’s hope it’s not too late

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Balada pro každý den

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Dlouhý žal a krátký den jidášsky zří do oken. Tisíc lží jsem slyšeli, podlostí sto viděli – mlčíme a pohrdáme. Bledé ticho kolem nás. Přítel dýchá, přítel zhas. … Continue reading

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The Valley of Unrest

…from the quills of the dead white poets Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849) Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their … Continue reading

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Prosinec

…from the quills of the dead white poets Fráňa Šrámek (1877 -1952) Po sněhu půjdu čistém, bílém, hru v srdci zvonkovou. Vánoční země je mým cílem. Až hvězdy vyplovou, tu budu blízko již. A bude ještě blíž, až lesní půjdu … Continue reading

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When I Read the Book

…from the quills of the dead white poets Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) When I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life? (As if any man really knew … Continue reading

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Píseň

…from the quills of the dead white poets František Gellner (1881 -1914) Vím, skepse má je příliš tvrdá a mysl má je příliš hrdá, a výsměch zlý a rouhavý extáze moje otráví. Rád v noci bdím a ve dne dřímám … Continue reading

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