At ten o'clock the great gong sounds its dread
Prelude to splendour. I push back my chair,
And all the people leave their books. We flock,
Still acquiescent, down the marble stair
Into the dark where we can't read. And thought
Swoops down insatiate through the starry air.
The fossil heaved its stony sigh
Moaning:
God’s failures have caused,
All his tears to helpless man.
I have a daughter,
Claïs fair,
Poised like a golden flower in the air,
Lydian treasures her limbs outshine
(Claïs, beloved one,
Claïs mine!)
હું તો ધરાનું હાસ છું,
હું પુષ્પનો પ્રવાસ છું,
નથી તો ક્યાંય પણ નથી
જુઓ તો આસપાસ છું !
Autumn clusters surround my house just like Tao Yuanming's.
I walk full circle round the fence as the sun slowly tilts.
It's not that I love chrysanthemums more than other flowers,
but that no others will blossom after these blooms wither.
I must think suddenly of matters too difficult for a bear of little brain. I have never asked myself what lies beyond the place where we live, I and Rabbit, Piglet and Eeyore, with our friend Christopher Robin. That is, we continued to live here, and nothing changed, and I just ate my little something. Only Christopher Robin left for a moment.
The single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.
Choose:
For we meet by one or the other.
When Charley sang of Polan’s Death
‘Twould stir your heart and soul an’
you’d grip your seat and hold your breath.
And want to fight for Polan’
No Christian burial? Ah, he'll sleep as sound
As the old Jew who, by Beth-Peor, had
God for a sexton.
Qvægende sødt de klare Perler bæve,
Kiøligt de giennem mit luftige Legem gaae.
Let forfrisket jeg vil mig af Badet nu hæve
Med min husvalede Æther, blaa.
