[A poem by Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963)]
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
[Un poème de Rudyard Kipling (1865 -1936)]
Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew -
(Twenty bridges or twenty-two) -
Wanted to know what the River knew,
For they were young, and the Thames was old
And this is the tale that River told:--
"I walk my beat before London Town,
Five hours up and seven down.
Up I go till I end my run
At Tide-end-town, which is Teddington.
Down I come with the mud in my hands
And plaster it over the Maplin Sands.
But I'd have you know th…
[Un poème de Raymond Queneau (1903-1976)]
Un jour on démolira
ces beaux immeubles si modernes
on en cassera les carreaux
de plexiglas ou d'ultravitre
on démontera les fourneaux
construits à polytechnique
on sectionnera les antennes
collectives de télévision
on dévissera les ascenseurs
on anéantira les vide-ordures
on broiera les chauffoses
on pulvérisera les frigidons
quand ces immeubles vieilliront
du poids infini de la tristesse des choses
[ interpretation in English…
[ Superbe poème de John Masefield (1878-967) qui devint poète lauréat, ou 'poète lauré', en 1930.
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;