Jag har aldrig läst mycket poesi, eller ens lite. Men så under min kurs i höst hade vi en poesiföreläsning och jag blev så fascinerad av hela grejen. Två av dikterna vi läste fastnade och jag har inte kunnat släppa dem sedan dess. En av dem, den första, hade jag läst tidigare, men den andra har jag aldrig läst innan. Nu är det inte så att jag ska plåga er med mina lama tolkningar av dikterna, utan tänker bara lägga upp dem för nöjes skull.
Fire and Ice av Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Funeral Blues av W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Jag känner såväl igen Funeral Blues, men jag kommer inte ihåg från vilken film. Vad irriterande! Men fin är den! :)
SvaraRaderaSvar: Juste ja! Nu blir jag jättesugen på att se om den :D
SvaraRadera