Share: A Kind of Burning

A Kind of Burning
Ophelia Dimalanta

it is perhaps because
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug as apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at the stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning.

--
--andoy
27 December 2005

Share: Half an Hour, Constantine P. Cavafy

Half An Hour
Constantine P. Cavafy

I never had you nor, I suppose,
will I ever have you. A few words, an approach,
as in the bar yesterday -nothing more.
It's sad, I admit. But we who serve Art,
sometimes with the mind's intensity
can create pleasure that seems almost physical-
but of course only for a short time.
That's how in the bar yesterday-
mercifully helped by alcohol-
I had half an hour that was totally erotic.
And I think you understood this
and stayed slightly longer on purpose.
That too was very necessary.
Because with all the imagination,
all the magic alcohol,
I needed to see your lips as well,
needed your body near me.

-=0=-

--andoy

Share: Return, Constantine P. Cavafy

Constantine P. Cavafy - Return

Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me --
when the memory of the body awakens,
and an old desire runs again through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.

Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember....

-=0=-

This is one poem which can shake your mornings. Or evenings.

--andoy
21 December 2005

Ciel brouill�

Ciel brouill�: "Ciel brouill�

On dirait ton regard d'une vapeur couvert;
Ton oeil myst�rieux (est-il bleu, gris ou vert?)
Alternativement tendre, r�veur, cruel,
R�fl�chit l'indolence et la p�leur du ciel.

Tu rappelles ces jours blancs, ti�des et voil�s,
Qui font se fondre en pleurs les coeurs ensorcel�s,
Quand, agit�s d'un mal inconnu qui les tord,
Les nerfs trop �veill�s raillent l'esprit qui dort.

Tu ressembles parfois �ces beaux horizons
Qu'allument les soleils des brumeuses saisons...
Comme tu resplendis, paysage mouill�
Qu'enflamment les rayons tombant d'un ciel brouill�!

� femme dangereuse, �s�duisants climats!
Adorerai-je aussi ta neige et vos frimas,
Et saurai-je tirer de l'implacable hiver
Des plaisirs plus aigus que la glace et le fer?

— Charles Baudelaire

Cloudy Sky

One would say that your gaze was veiled with mist;
Your mysterious eyes (are they blue, gray or green?)
Alternately tender, dreamy, cruel,
Reflect the indolence and pallor of the sky.

You call to mind those days, white, soft, and mild,
That make enchanted hearts burst into tears,
When, shaken by a mysterious, wracking pain,
The nerves, too wide-awake, jeer at the sleeping mind.

You resemble at times those gorgeous horizons
That the sun sets ablaze in the seasons of mist...
How resplendent you are, landscape drenched with rain,
Aflame with rays that fall from a cloudy sky!

O dangerous woman, O alluring climates!
Will I also adore your snow and your hoar-frost,
And can I draw from your implacable winter
Pleasures keener than iron or ice?

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Misty Sky

One would have thought your eyes were veiled in haze
Strange eyes! (Grey, green, or azure is their gaze?)
It seems they would reflect, in each renewal,
The changing skies, dull, dreamy, fond, or cruel.

You know those days both warm and hazy, which
Melt into tears the hearts that they bewitch:
And when the nerves, uneasy to control,
Too-wide awake, upbraid the sleeping soul.

You, too, resemble such a lit horizon
As suns of misty seasons now bedizen...
As you shine out, a landscape fresh with rain
With misty sunbeams sparkling on the plain.

Dangerous girl, seductive as the weather!
Shall I adore your snows and frosts together?
In your relentless winter shall I feel
A kiss more sharp than that of ice and steel?

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)"

-=0=-

If you want to read more, please go to the website: fleursdumal.org

--andoy
13 December 2005

Le Chat

Le Chat: "Le Chat

Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux;
Retiens les griffes de ta patte,
Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux,
M�l�s de m�tal et d'agate.

Lorsque mes doigts caressent �loisir
Ta t�te et ton dos �lastique,
Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir
De palper ton corps �lectrique,

Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard,
Comme le tien, aimable b�te
Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard,

Et, des pieds jusques �la t�te,
Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum
Nagent autour de son corps brun.

— Charles Baudelaire

The Cat

Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.

When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

The Cat

Come, my fine cat, against my loving heart;
Sheathe your sharp claws, and settle.
And let my eyes into your pupils dart
Where agate sparks with metal.

Now while my fingertips caress at leisure
Your head and wiry curves,
And that my hand's elated with the pleasure
Of your electric nerves,

I think about my woman — how her glances
Like yours, dear beast, deep-down
And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances;

Then, too, she has that vagrant
And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant
Her body, lithe and brown.

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

The Cat

My beautiful cat, come onto my heart full of love;
Hold back the claws of your paw,
And let me plunge into your adorable eyes
Mixed with metal and agate.

When my fingers lazily fondle
Your head and your elastic back,
And my hand gets drunk with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

I see in spirit my personal lady. Her glance,
Like yours, dear creature,
Deep and cold, slits and splits like a dart,

And from her feet to her head,
A subtle atmosphere, a dangerous perfume,
Swim around her brown body.

— Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974) "

-=0=-

From the fleursdumal.org / Charles Baudelaire's "Flowers of Evil" web site.

--andoy
13 December 2005

Je t'adore �l'�gal de la vo�te nocturne

Je t'adore �l'�gal de la vo�te nocturne

Je t'adore à l'égal de la voûte nocturne

Je t'adore à l'égal de la voûte nocturne,
Ô vase de tristesse, ô grande taciturne,
Et t'aime d'autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,
Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,
Plus ironiquement accumuler les lieues
Qui séparent mes bras des immensités bleues.

Je m'avance à l'attaque, et je grimpe aux assauts,
Comme après un cadavre un choeur de vermisseaux,
Et je chéris, ô bête implacable et cruelle!
Jusqu'à cette froideur par où tu m'es plus belle!

— Charles Baudelaire

I Adore You as Much as the Nocturnal Vault...

I adore you as much as the nocturnal vault,
O vase of sadness, most taciturn one,
I love you all the more because you flee from me,
And because you appear, ornament of my nights,
More ironically to multiply the leagues
That separate my arms from the blue infinite.

I advance to attack, and I climb to assault,
Like a swarm of maggots after a cadaver,
And I cherish, implacable and cruel beast,
Even that coldness which makes you more beautiful.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

More Than Night's Vault, It's You That I Adore

More than night's vault, it's you that I adore,
Vessel of sorrow, silent one, the more
Because you flee from me, and seem to place,
Ornament of my nights! more leagues of space
Ironically between me and you
Than part me from these vastitudes of blue.

I charge, attack, and mount to the assault
As worms attack a corpse within a vault.
And cherish even the coldness that you boast,
By which, harsh beast, you subjugate me most.

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

I Worship You

I worship you, O proud and taciturn,
As I do night's high vault; O sorrow's urn,
I love you all the more because you flee
And seem, gem of my nights, ironically
To multiply the weary leagues that sunder
My arms from all infinity's blue wonder.

I skirmish and I climb to the attack,
I, a worms' chorus on a corpse's back,
O fierce cruel beast, I cherish to the full
The very chill that makes you beautiful.

— Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil (Mt Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper Press, 1958)

-=0=-

Just a selection of Charles Baudelaire's poems.

--andoy
13 December 2005

1861 Edition of Charles Baudelaire's Fleurs du mal

Poems from Charles Baudelaire's Fleurs du mal / Flowers of Evil.

--andoy
13 December 2005

Pinoy Poets Website

This is the new revised and updated Pinoy Poets website. Looks a lot better than the old web site. Well worth the trip.

--andoy
9 December 2005