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Valami szépet, lehet kicsit melankonikus es szomorkás, lehetôleg az életrôl szóljon, vagy valamely szakaszáról.

Elôre is köszönöm.



2015. jan. 13. 17:37
 1/4 anonim ***** válasza:

Nemesis


by H. P. Lovecraft


Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,

Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,

I have lived o'er my lives without number,

I have sounded all things with my sight;

And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.


I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,

When the sky was a vaporous flame;

I have seen the dark universe yawning

Where the black planets roll without aim,

Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.


I had drifted o'er seas without ending,

Under sinister grey-clouded skies,

That the many-forked lightning is rending,

That resound with hysterical cries;

With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.


I have plunged like a deer through the arches

Of the hoary primoridal grove,

Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,

And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,

And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.


I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains

That rise barren and bleak from the plain,

I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains

That ooze down to the marsh and the main;

And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.


I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,

I have trod its untenanted hall,

Where the moon rising up from the valleys

Shows the tapestried things on the wall;

Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.


I have peered from the casements in wonder

At the mouldering meadows around,

At the many-roofed village laid under

The curse of a grave-girdled ground;

And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.


I have haunted the tombs of the ages,

I have flown on the pinions of fear,

Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;

Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:

And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.


I was old when the pharaohs first mounted

The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;

I was old in those epochs uncounted

When I, and I only, was vile;

And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.


Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,

And great is the reach of its doom;

Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,

Nor can respite be found in the tomb:

Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.


Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,

Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,

I have lived o'er my lives without number,

I have sounded all things with my sight;

And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.


Ez biztos siker! :)

Remélem segítettem.

2015. jan. 13. 17:39
Hasznos számodra ez a válasz?
 2/4 A kérdező kommentje:
Köszi, ez nagyon szép csak kicsit hosszú, és nehezebb mint Ami nekem Jo lenne, 9.es vagyok.
2015. jan. 13. 17:41
 3/4 anonim ***** válasza:
100%

Esetleg ez? Bocsi Lovecraftól tudok csak :)

The garden


There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,

Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;

Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,

And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.

There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,

And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:

In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,

Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.

There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,

And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.

As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find

When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;

I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,

As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.

Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -

For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart.


Ez tetszik?

2015. jan. 13. 20:55
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 4/4 anonim ***** válasza:
100%

T.S. Eliot's "Four Quartets"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ktb8EiLc2WI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv3V67Vug3k


Ode: Intimations of Immortality by William Wordsworth

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDlscavkqzs


JIM MORRISON POETRY: THE DARK VOICES

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3O7U29Ycok

2015. jan. 14. 01:25
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