"Sea Fever" by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
Analysis
"The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde
[...]
Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.
.
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
.
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
[...]
Full Version
"oh, to live unremarkably" by Trista Mateer
if I have childen,
I hope they live quiet lives.
no fires for them.
no sickness.
no breaking new stories.
I hope they die of old age.
far from the pages of history books.
More
"Intimate Verses" by Augusto dos Anjos
See! No one watched the formidable
Burial of your last chimera.
Only Ingratitude - such a panther -
Was your inseparable company!
.
Get used to the mud that awaits!
The Man that, on this miserable land,
Lives, among beasts, feel an inevitable
Crave of also being a beast.
.
Take a match. Light up your cigarette!
A kiss, my friend, precedes the spit,
The hand that caresses - before the stick.
.
If someone saves you from hell,
Stone the hand that treats you well,
Spit on this mouth that kisses you!
Original
"Love is a fire that burns unseen" by Luís de Camões
Love is a fire that burns unseen,
a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,
an always discontent contentment,
a pain that rages without hurting,
.
a longing for nothing but to long,
a loneliness in the midst of people,
a never feeling pleased when pleased,
a passion that gains when lost in thought.
.
It’s being enslaved of your own free will;
it’s counting your defeat a victory;
it’s staying loyal to your killer.
.
But if it’s so self-contradictory,
how can Love, when Love chooses,
bring human hearts into sympathy?
Original
"The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
.
Chapter IV
[...]
"Six years have already passed since my
friend went away from me, with his sheep. If I try to describe him here, it is to
make sure that I shall not forget him. To forget a friend is sad. Not every one has
had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown−ups who are no
longer interested in anything but figures...
.
It is for that purpose, again, that I have bought a box of paints and some pencils. It
is hard to take up drawing again at my age, when I have never made any pictures
except those of the boa constrictor from the outside and the boa constrictor from
the inside, since I was six. I shall certainly try to make my portraits as true to life
as possible. But I am not at all sure of success. One drawing goes along all right,
and another has no resemblance to its subject. I make some errors, too, in the littl e
prince's height: in one place he is too tall and in another too short. And I feel some
doubts about the color of his costume. So I fumble along as best I can, now good,
now bad, and I hope generally fair−to−middling.
.
In certain more important details I shall make mistakes, also. But that is something
that will not be my fault. My friend never explained anything to me. He thought,
perhaps, that I was like himself.
But I, alas, do not know how to see sheep through
the walls of boxes. Perhaps I am a little like the grown−ups. I have had to grow
old."
[...]
Chapter VI
Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your sad little life...
For a long time you had found your only entertainment in the quiet pleasure of
looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me:
"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."
.
"But we must wait," I said.
"Wait? For what?"
"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."
At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself.
You said to me:
"I am always thinking that I am at home!"
Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is
setting over France.
.
If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset,
right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny
planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can
see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like...
.
"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty−four times!"
And a little later you added:
"You know−− one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..."
"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty−four sunsets?"
But the little prince made no reply.
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