.: We pass and dream, Earth smiles, Virtue is rare, A...

.: We pass and dream, Earth smiles, Virtue is rare, A...: We live on, but, don`t understand the life ! Whether to suffer - so odd ! Or to triumph ? Be jealous or offer : My thanks to God I do...

.: Everything softly hums, the same. The wind stops b...

.: Everything softly hums, the same. The wind stops b...: The time I've spent dreaming--- Years and years of my life ! Ah, how much of my past Was only the false life Of a future I imagi...

Everything softly hums, the same. The wind stops blowing, the night advances, day begins and I exist, anonymous. But what happened was much more than this... Because I lost my best friend my dog.

The time I've spent dreaming---
Years and years of my life !
Ah, how much of my past
Was only the false life
Of a future I imagined !

Here on the bank of the river
I grow calm for no reasons.
Its empty flowing mirrors,
Cold and anonymous,
The life I've lived in vain.

How little hope ever attains !
What longing is worth the wait?
Any child's ball
Rises higher than my hope,
Rolls farther than my longing.

Waves of the river, so slight
That you aren't even waves,
The hours, days and years
Pass quickly - mere grass or snow
Which die by the same sun.

I spent all I didn't have.
I'm older than I am. 
Or younger, I don't know...
The illusion that kept me going
Was a queen only on stage:
Once undressed, her reign was over.

Soft sound of these slow waters
Acting for shores you've passed,
How drowsy are the memories
Of misty hopes !
What dreams all dreaming and
Life amount to !

What did I make of my life ?
Nothing or... ?
I found myself when already lost.
Impatient, 
I let myself be
As I might let a lunatic go on
Believing what I'd proved was wrong.

Take me, passing waves,
To the oblivion of the sea !
Bequeath me to what I won't be---
I, who raised a scaffold
Around the house I never built...

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...: Far below the river sings: A ruffle of sky and leaves. The new light is crowned with flowers. Oh sorrow of my dog ! Clean sor...

.: Oh Guitarra !

.: Oh Guitarra !: La Guitarra                                                    The Guitar Empieza el llanto                                   ...

.: Will our work live ? we ask ; and we can answer on...

.: Will our work live ? we ask ; and we can answer on...: I know not, care not, for I deem no shame to hold men and women, flowers, and trees and stars the same, Myself, as these, one ato...

Will our work live ? we ask ; and we can answer only in our own words...: It lives, " If precious be the soul of man to man "

I know not,
care not,
for I deem no shame to hold men and women,
flowers,
and trees and stars the same,
Myself,
as these,
one atom in the whole.

I do not hunger for a well-stored mind,
I only wish to live my life,
and find my heart in unison with all mankind.
My life is like a single star,
that trembles on the horizon's
primrose-bar,---
A microcosm where all things living are.

And if,
among the noiseless grasses,
Death should come behind and take away my breath,
I should not rise as one who sorroweth;

The light is flying;
in the silver-blue
the young moon shines from her bright window through :
The mowers are all gone, and I go too.

.: "Yes," I answered you last night; "No," this morni...

.: "Yes," I answered you last night; "No," this morni...: What's the best thing in the world ? Roses ? Love? Faith ? Or... Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; Truth, not cruel to a ...

.: I doubt. therefore I think... I think.

.: I doubt. therefore I think... I think.: I don't know if the stars rule the world Or if tarot or playing cards Can reveal anything. I don't know if the rolling of dic...

.: To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at th...

.: To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at th...: Sweet, thou hast trod on heart. Pass, there's a world full of men; and women as fair as thou art. Must, do such things now and...

.: Oh happy is that man an' blest ! Nae wonder that i...

.: Oh happy is that man an' blest ! Nae wonder that i...: Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, En-wrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night...

Oh happy is that man an' blest ! Nae wonder that it pride him ! Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best, comes clinking' down beside him ! Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back, he sweetly does compose him; Which by degrees slips round her neck, an's loof upon her bosom, Unken'd that day...

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
En-wrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet;
But I, 
Being poor,
Have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Please:
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...

.: Madrugada...

.: Madrugada...: Pero como el amor los saetros estan ciegos. Sobre la noche verde, las saetas dejan rastros de lirio caliente. La quilla de la l...

.: "Yes," I answered you last night; "No," this morni...

.: "Yes," I answered you last night; "No," this morni...: What's the best thing in the world ? Roses ? Love? Faith ? Or... Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; Truth, not cruel to a ...

.: I doubt. therefore I think... I think.

.: I doubt. therefore I think... I think.: I don't know if the stars rule the world Or if tarot or playing cards Can reveal anything. I don't know if the rolling of dic...

I doubt. therefore I think... I think.

I don't know if the stars rule the world
Or if tarot or playing cards
Can reveal anything.
I don't know if the rolling of dice
Can lead to any conclusion.
But I also don't know
If anything is attained
By living the way most people do...

.: All politician proclaim loud and clear that all un...

.: All politician proclaim loud and clear that all un...: Who believes in them ? Who believes in their counterpart ? Make those poilus shave ! Take away the heard's helmets ! Send everyo...

All politician proclaim loud and clear that all understand they can't keep their promises...

Who believes in them ?
Who believes in their counterpart ?
Make those poilus shave !
Take away the heard's helmets !
Send everyone home to peel symbolic potatoes !
Give this mindless pandemonium a bath !
Couple their promises to a locomotive !
Tie it to a leash and go show it everywhere ! 
All are to blame for the failure of not keep't promises !
The failure of everything is to blame for all them !
Completely, utterly, and unequivocally :

SHIT !

Don't trust, they do not keep their promises...
The poor will be poorer...
The rich will be richer...
This is what it all about h. 
Don't trust...

.: Dancing to Rhythms...

.: Dancing to Rhythms...: As soon as the full moon rises, I'm going to... I'm going to Cascais... in a coach of black water. I'm going to Cascais....

Dancing to Rhythms...

As soon as the full moon rises,
I'm going to...
I'm going to Cascais...
in a coach of black water.
I'm going to Cascais.
The thatched roofs will sing.
I'm going to Cascais.
When the palm wants to be a stork,
I'm going to Cascais.
When the banana tree wants to be a sea wasp,
I'm going to Cascais.
Oh, the bovine coolness of sugar and nice girl's.
I'm going to Cascais
With girl's blonde head.
I'm going to Cascais
and with Romeo and Juliet's rose
I'm going to Cascais.
Paper sea and euro coins.
I'm going to Cascais.
Oh, fiery waist, oh, drop of wood!
I'm going to Cascais.
Oh,  rhythm of dried seeds !
I'm going to Cascais.
The sea drowned in the sand,
I'm going to Cascais.
When my coral in the darkness...

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...: Far below the river sings: A ruffle of sky and leaves. The new light is crowned with flowers. Oh sorrow of my dog ! Clean sor...

.: Det er vondt å være for liten, men verre å være fo...

.: Det er vondt å være for liten, men verre å være fo...: November er som en gammel kvinne som ikke håper lenger. Da solen, den veldig sterke elsker, forlot henne, trakk hun en grå kjole ov...

Det er vondt å være for liten, men verre å være for stor...

November er som en gammel kvinne
som ikke håper lenger.
Da solen,
den veldig sterke elsker,
forlot henne,
trakk hun en grå kjole over sine
magre skuldrer,
og hennes ansikt ble
strengt av ensomhet.
Men det må opplagt finnes
speiler
med innebygd
glorier.

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...

.: What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tu...: Far below the river sings: A ruffle of sky and leaves. The new light is crowned with flowers. Oh sorrow of my dog ! Clean sor...

What sorrow ! I am turning into, I lost my dog "Tussi" to day. My best friend, my flesh, my clothes. Ay, my linen shirts ! My thighs of poppy ! Leave my heart in peace, this morning...

Far below the river sings:
A ruffle of sky and leaves.
The new light is crowned
with flowers.
Oh sorrow of my dog !
Clean sorrow, always alone.
Oh sorrow of secret riverbed
and remote daybreak !
Don't remind me of my dog
for the black sorrow springs
in the land of the alves. 

.: The search and the question are vain. By use of th...

.: The search and the question are vain. By use of th...: Is the world like chess ? You win and lose ? Slow flapping in the setting sun by twos and trees, in wavering rows. As twilight sha...

The search and the question are vain. By use of the strength that is in you, by wrestling of soul and of sinew the blessing of God you may gain. There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven that never will shine on our eyes; To morales it may not be given to range those inviolate skies. The mind, whether praying or scorning. That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; But strive through the night till the morning, and mightily shalt thou prevail.

Is the world like chess ?
You win and lose ?
Slow flapping in the setting sun
by twos and trees,
in wavering rows.
As twilight shadows dimly close,
the players fly over
the chess mind.

Under the crimson sunset sky
the players mind lie,
in winter y torpor bleak and dun.
Through the rich value of heaven,
which shines like a warmed opal 
in the sun over the chess players.

.: Now old man`s talk o` the days behind me: My dater...

.: Now old man`s talk o` the days behind me: My dater...: Critical age Fearsome, awesome - Too late to change ! - You`ve come for me also, My critical age ! No weakling am I, Yet I don`t f...

.: Av tid lærer en mer enn av mange bøker...

.: Av tid lærer en mer enn av mange bøker...: At the seaside: All the coast`s in the foam of the tumbling tide, And rustling pines at the waterside rise. At twilight the sea is no l...

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...: From a landscape of golden  regions of animals  I chose to give you, dear friend, this humble postcard: On a Sunday; Like fal...

.: Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, er...

.: Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, er...: Do you question the young children in the sorrow, why their tears are falling so ?--- The old man may weep for his to-morrow which is...

.: Quien me mando desvencijar las puertas de mi propi...

.: Quien me mando desvencijar las puertas de mi propi...: Dos bueyes rojos en el campo de oro. Los bueyes tienen ritmo de campanas antiguas y ojos de pájaro. Son para las mananas de niebla...

Quien me mando desvencijar las puertas de mi propio orgullo ?

Dos bueyes rojos en el campo de oro.

Los bueyes tienen ritmo
de campanas antiguas
y ojos de pájaro.
Son para las mananas
de niebla, y sin embargo,
horadan la naranja
del aire en el verano.
Viejos desde que nacen,
no tienen amo.
Y recuerdan las alas
de sus costados.
Los bueyes
siempre van suspirando
por los campos de Ruth
en busca del vado,
del eterno vado,
borrachos de luceros
a rumiarse sus llantos.

Dos bueyes rojos en el campo de oro...

Two red bulls in one gold field...

Bulls got a rhythm
like old-time bells
&eyes like a bird's.
Mad for foggy
mornings,
& even so they
bore through the air ---
orange,
in summer.
Old from their birth
they don't have no boss
& think back to the wings
down their sides.
Two red bulls
that go around sighing
through fields of Ruth
for a shoal to cross over,
that eternal shoal,
drunk on star-shine,
are chewing their cuds,
are chewing their sorrows...

One white bull left on a gold field...

.: It's night time: I'm alone and sad, thinking in th...

.: It's night time: I'm alone and sad, thinking in th...: God - where did you find, to light up the sky, this marvellous copper sunset ? It taught me how to fill myself with joy again. Ask...

.: What can be read on walls...

.: What can be read on walls...: Perhaps, perhaps oblivion on earth, like a mantle can develop growth and  nourish life (maybe), like dark humus in the forest. Perh...

.: Morality's not practical. Morality's a gesture. A ...

.: Morality's not practical. Morality's a gesture. A ...: Nobody will or cannot help... Think of all the people how are been killed every day or hour !

.: The end or... A single post, a point of rusting ti...

.: The end or... A single post, a point of rusting ti...: My dreams...: That false note in your voice, what is it the brain alerts to  end the heart drops at ? Under that evil sky, that...

The end or... A single post, a point of rusting tin in the sky marks the fated place we move to, you and I... on time at death is prompt strangely too smooth the gesture of your hat to me. Menace at the edge of your eyes your mouth tight shut strangely too low is the bow you makes tonight on time ?

My dreams...:

That false note in your voice,
what is it the brain alerts to 
end the heart drops at ?

Under that evil sky,
that sign of tin and rust,
Six o'clock.
There you is waiting by the post.

Now we kiss soundlessly,
your lips stiff as hands
are given to queens,
or dead people thus.

round us the shoving elbows of
ordinary bustle and
strangely irksome rises the
screech of a whistle howls
like a dog screaming angrier,'
longer:
what a nightmare strangeness
life is at death point.

And that nightmare reached my
waist only last night
and now reach the stars,
it has grown to its true height.

Crying silently love love...
until
---Has it gone six,
shall we go to the... ?
I shout it: home !
This is my nightmare look at me :

.: I walk chiefly to visit natural object, But, I som...

.: I walk chiefly to visit natural object, But, I som...: Love life Love the people Live how you want Never give up on your dreams they are all you got...

.: NOTHING...

.: NOTHING...: Ah, the soft, soft playing, like someone about to cry, of a song that's woven out of artifice and moonlight... Nothing to make...

.: Autumn motifs a fairy-tales from ...

.: Autumn motifs a fairy-tales from ...: I've lost my sleep. All day, all night I languish which indicates  that in my native parts all birds and animals fly to the so...

Autumn motifs a fairy-tales from ...

I've lost my sleep.
All day,
all night
I languish which indicates 
that in my native parts
all birds and animals fly
to the south. 
The bear,
got to sleep,
and pull his lair in order.

The blizzard whirled the
world.
Again it snows in
crazy pellets and in
hot bullets meant for
someone.

The soldiers it's far from
home;
Fighting,
for what ?
Thunderstorm made by
man,
kills,
the earth,
the human,
we can't see the earth,
for...
Madness.

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...: From a landscape of golden  regions of animals  I chose to give you, dear friend, this humble postcard: On a Sunday; Like fal...

.: No one, in the vast and virgin jungle...

.: No one, in the vast and virgin jungle...: No one, in the vast and virgin jungle Of this unreckoned world, ever sees the God he knows. Only what is born upon the wind,  upon t...

.: NOTHING...

.: NOTHING...: Ah, the soft, soft playing, like someone about to cry, of a song that's woven out of artifice and moonlight... Nothing to make...

.: The double autumn ... Yes autumn is here.

.: The double autumn ... Yes autumn is here.: The sea and wind is alive while the land does not move. The grave autumn of the coast covers the still light of the land with its ...

The double autumn ... Yes autumn is here.

The sea and wind is alive while the land
does not move.
The grave autumn
of the coast
covers
the still light of the land
with its death, but the roaming sea,
the sea keeps living.

There is not one single drop
of sleep,
death,
or night in her combat:
all the machines
of water,
the blue
cauldrons,
the crackling factories
of wind crowing
the waves with
its violent flowers,
all
alive as
the viscera
of the bull,
as the fire in music,
as the act
of amorous union.

The work of autumn
on the land have always
been obscure;
immobile
roots, seeds submerged
in time and above
only
the corolla of the cold,
a vague
aroma of leaves dissolving
itself in gold:
nothing.
An ax
in the forest breaks
a trunk of crystals,
later,
evening falls and the land
place a black 
mask
upon her face.

But the sea,
does not rest, doesn't sleep, has not died.
Its belly grows by night
which warped the wet stars,
like wheat in the dawn.
It grows,
throbs,
and cries like a lost
child
that only with the beat
of daybreak like a drum,
wakes gigantic
and grows rough.
All its hands move,
its incessant organism,
its extensive teeth,
its business
with salt, with sun, with silver,
all
is moved,
is stirred with its levelling
springs,
with the combat of its movement,
while the sad
autumn
passes
over the land.

.: What can be read on walls...

.: What can be read on walls...: Perhaps, perhaps oblivion on earth, like a mantle can develop growth and  nourish life (maybe), like dark humus in the forest. Perh...

.: To be great, be whole: don't exaggerate or leave o...

.: To be great, be whole: don't exaggerate or leave o...

.: Praise to the Rich peoples or ?...

.: Praise to the Rich peoples or ?...: Under the wheels of luxury... And so, making clear in advance I know there are miles   between us; and I reckons myself with the tra...

.: In another manner...

.: In another manner...: The bonfire gives the evening land the antlers of a raging stag. The valley stretches away. A little breeze zigzags among the furro...

In another manner...

The bonfire gives the evening land
the antlers of a raging stag.
The valley stretches away.
A little breeze zigzags among
the furrows.

Air crystallizes in the smoke
a cat's eye sad and yellow.
My eyes and I glide along the
branches.
The branches do their gliding 
on the river.

Things essential to me come to hand.
Refrains of other refrains.
Between the rush and the dropping
day, how strange my having .......
for a name!

.: Winter and Christmas is near---And the drowned wom...

.: Winter and Christmas is near---And the drowned wom...: Mad shopping... Woven butterfly, garment hung from the sky, drowned in the sky, derived amid squalls and rains, alone, alone, c...

Winter and Christmas is near---And the drowned woman of the sky or---the plastic card's on the shops machines...

Mad shopping...

Woven butterfly,
garment hung from the sky,
drowned in the sky,
derived amid squalls and rains,
alone,
alone,
compact,
with clothes and tresses torn to shreds
and centres corroded by the air.
Plastic cards destroyed in the
shops bank terminals.
DISASTER'S ... 

Motionless, if you withstand
the raucous needle of Christmas shopping,
the river of angry women d, float down
the shopping gate,.
shadow's 
shadow's
money
money
plastic money.
I stop and suffer
when like a slow and cold-filled sound
you spread your glow beaten by the river
of shopping madness.
Christmas is only a few weeks to come.
Money,
Money,
I have no money...

.: In the theatre of life, thoes who play the part of...

.: In the theatre of life, thoes who play the part of...: Live, you say, in the present. Live only in the present. But I don't want the present, I want reality. I want the things that e...

In the theatre of life, thoes who play the part of sincerity are, on the whole, the most convincing in their roles...

Live, you say, in the present.
Live only in the present.

But I don't want the present,
I want reality.
I want the things that exist,
not the time that measures them.

What is the present ?
It's something in relation to the past and the future.
It's something that exists by virtue of other things existing.
I want only reality,
the things themselves,
without any present.

I don't want to include time in my awareness of what exists.
I don't want to think of things as being in the present;
I want to think of them as things.
I don't want to separate them from themselves,
calling them present.

I shouldn't even call them real.
I shouldn't call the anything.

I should see them,
just see them,
See them until I can no longer think about them,
See them without time or space,
See with no need of anything besides what I'm seeing.
This is the science of seeing,
which is no science at all.

I don't think you my dear reader understand, or ?...

.: The Story of Solomon Waste...

.: The Story of Solomon Waste...: This is all the story of Solomon Waste. Always hurrying yet never in haste, He fussed and work and toiled all frothing And at the end o...

.: Hjertes toner...

.: Hjertes toner...: Vidunderlige indre følelse, hva er det ? Et instrument der inne med vidt forskjellige toner. Ja i sannhet er det et ånd'lig inst...

.: Say not the struggle nought availeth. The labour a...

.: Say not the struggle nought availeth. The labour a...: If hopes were dupes, fears may be liar's; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, bu...

.: Alt har sin tid...

.: Alt har sin tid...: Alt har sin tid... Huset flyter ! Hermetikk, vindtøy, støvler på gulv og bord - termos, kompass og lomelykt - en kniv, to soveposer. ...

.: Festen er over, rommet står grått og tomt, jentene...

.: Festen er over, rommet står grått og tomt, jentene...: As I take my shoes from the shoemaker,  and my coat from the tailor, so I take my religion from the priest. The best way to get the...

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...

.: My father told me that, in the countryside, he got...: From a landscape of golden  regions of animals  I chose to give you, dear friend, this humble postcard: On a Sunday; Like fal...

.: I do not hunger for a well-stored mind, I only wis...

.: I do not hunger for a well-stored mind, I only wis...: My life is like the single dewy star that trembles on the horizon's primrose-bar,- A microcosm where all things living are. And...

I do not hunger for a well-stored mind, I only wish to live my life, and find my heart in unison with all mankind.

My life is like the single dewy star
that trembles on the horizon's
primrose-bar,-
A microcosm where all things living are.

And if, among the noiseless grasses,
Death should come behind and take
away my breath,
I should not rise as one who sorrower;

For I should pass,
but all the world would be
full of desire and young delight and glee,
and why should men be sad through loss
of...?

The light is flying;
in the silver-blue
the young moon shines from her bright window
through;
The mowers are all gone,
and I go too...

.: Praise to the Rich peoples or ?...

.: Praise to the Rich peoples or ?...: Under the wheels of luxury... And so, making clear in advance I know there are miles   between us; and I reckons myself with the tra...

.: The necessities were going by default to save the ...

.: The necessities were going by default to save the ...

.: Auf Flugeln des Gesanges...

.: Auf Flugeln des Gesanges...: Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten, Dass ich so traurig bin; Ein Marchen aus alten Zeiten, Das kommet mir nicht aus dem Sinn. What ex...

.: Mind, mind alone, bear witness, earth and heaven !...

.: Mind, mind alone, bear witness, earth and heaven !...: Bloooody ? I do not believe in ... God is working his purpose out as year succeeds to year; God is working his purpose out and time ...

.: Morality's not practical. Morality's a gesture. A ...

.: Morality's not practical. Morality's a gesture. A ...: Nobody will or cannot help... Think of all the people how are been killed every day or hour !

.: Every man, when he comes to be sensible of his nat...

.: Every man, when he comes to be sensible of his nat...: Our Father which art in heaven Stay there... And we will stay on earth Which is sometimes so pretty.

.: NOTHING...

.: NOTHING...: Ah, the soft, soft playing, like someone about to cry, of a song that's woven out of artifice and moonlight... Nothing to make...

NOTHING...

Ah,
the soft,
soft playing,
like someone about to cry,
of a song that's woven
out of artifice and moonlight...
Nothing to make us remember
                LIFE

A prelude of courtesies
Or a smile that fade ...
A cold garden in the distance ...
As now in November.
And in the soul that finds it,
just the absurd echo of its empty
                 FLIGHT.

Now in November,
Spring has gone,
Summer has gone,
It is Nothing,
waiting for the next...

.: To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at th...

.: To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at th...: Sweet, thou hast trod on heart. Pass, there's a world full of men; and women as fair as thou art. Must, do such things now and...

.: Religion's in the heart, not in the knees.

.: Religion's in the heart, not in the knees.: Intimate... Knowledge always deceives. It always limits the truth, every concept and image does. From cage to cage the car moves, ...

Religion's in the heart, not in the knees.

Intimate...
Knowledge always deceives.
It always limits the truth,
every concept and image does.

From cage to cage
the car moves,
but I give thanks,
for at each divine juncture my
wings expand and I
touch Him more intimately...

.: Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, er...

.: Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, er...: Do you question the young children in the sorrow, why their tears are falling so ?--- The old man may weep for his to-morrow which is...

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, ere the sorrow comes with years ? They are learning their young heads against their mothers--- And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds are chirping in the nest; The young fawns are playing with shadows; The young flowers are blowing towards the west--- But the young, young children, O my brothers, they are weeping bitterly !--- They are weeping in the playtime of the others in the country of the free.

Do you question the young children in the sorrow,
why their tears are falling so ?---
The old man may weep for his to-morrow
which is lost in Long Ago ---
The old tree is leafless in the forest ---
The old years is ending in the frost ---
The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest ---
The old hope is hardest to be lost;
But the young,
young children,
O' my brothers,
do you ask them why they stand
weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,
In our happy world of to-day...