Love poetry - What would you choose?

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Amongst the wedding gifts I gave to my nephew, recently married, was a poem I selected from a book entitled One Hundred and One Love Poems. No doubt they will write their own poetry as the years unfold, but I wanted to share the selection, a favourite of mine, and I hoped they might like it.

I understand the poem much better having been lucky enough to marry *my* love.

I’m so happy for them.

THIS IS JUST TO SAY
(William Carlos Williams)

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah me. They looked bewildered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’d be interested and delighted if you’d share with me your favourite love poem; the one poem that if you were to tie a ribbon on it, might be included in your wedding gift to someone special.

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[+3] - George - 09/26/2008GrÃ¢ce Ã elle Jim Corcoran GrÃ¢ce Ã elle je vole Elle me recommence Me rÃ©veille, me sonne Bellissime brise GrÃ¢ce...

i'm rather fond of the sentiment in this song by The Magnetic Fields

Time Enough for Rocking When We're Old

There'll be time enough for rocking when we're old
We can rock all day in rocking chairs of gold
But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing
There'll be time enough for rocking when we're old, my love

There'll be time enough for talk in the nursing home
Darling, time enough to write an epic poem
But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing
There'll be time enough for talking in the home, my love

There'll be time enough for sleeping when we're dead
You will have a velvet pillow for your head
But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing
There'll be time enough for sleeping when we're dead, my love

There'll be time for sex and drugs in Heaven
When our pheromones are turned up to eleven
But tonight I think I'd rather just go dancing
There'll be time enough for sex and drugs in Heaven, my love
And time enough for rocking when we're old

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Grâce à elle
Jim Corcoran

Grâce à elle je vole
Elle me recommence
Me réveille, me sonne
Bellissime brise
Grâce à elle je vole... je vole

Ma chair cède
Mon coeur bat
Je nais d'un coup d'elle
Souveraine et belle
Elle embellit mon ombre
Grâce à elle je vole... je vole

Sans l'alibi des mots
Sous les paupières des ses silences
S'écrient au son du sang
... souffle... et rêves
Grâce à elle je vole... je vole

Je m'accorde à elle
Et j'risque les mots d'amour
À elle je dois
Cet état de grâce

À elle je vole... je vole
À elle je vole... je vole

1 Reply

@Joeblow,

Ezra Pound, the American poet, also did translations of Chinese poetry. Here is one that I found touching:

Quote:

The River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.

At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the lookout?

At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fo-Sa.

1 Reply

@djjd62,

dj " fantastic! I’ve felt this way before.

0 Replies

@George,

George, for some reason when I saw this I wanted chocolate. Sometimes, I just want to revel in the words.

My on-line translation effort yielded a poor response, and I’d love to see it translated with the finesse I think it deserves. I can certainly understand the sentiment of “I fly! I fly!”

1 Reply

@wandeljw,

wandel, thank you for that. I'm thinking of it still, and suspect I'll revisit that selection again and again. It's -- poignant.

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@Joeblow,

I would choose the whole of Gibran's "The Prophet."

1 Reply

@edgarblythe,

I know it well. A portion of that was a reading at my own wedding.

1 Reply

@Joeblow,

And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?

And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.

My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.

And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.

Oh lady! blessd be that tear---
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.

Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.

Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
I would not give that bosom pain.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron

1 Reply

@Miller,

Thank you so much, Miller.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wonder what our choices say about us as individuals. It's very interesting to me, reading the selections. Though I couldn't have quessed what anyone might choose, it adds a layer of understanding, I think, to my overall perceptions. Facinating really.

1 Reply

@Joeblow,

Quote:

Did you know that if you look at the NEW Canadian twenty dollar bill - you’ll need a magnifying glass - you will read the following quote by French-Canadian author Gabrielle Roy (1908 - 1983):
Could we ever know each other in the slightest without the arts?
Nous connaitrions-nous seulement un peu nous-memes, sans les arts?

http://viewoncanadianart.com/2008/09/04/news-toronto-arts-community-sets-up-department-of-culture/
I looked that up because I heard a snippet about it on CBC driving, into work this morning, and I thought it was neat… and conveys what I meant.

0 Replies

@Joeblow,

Quote:

George, for some reason when I saw this I wanted chocolate. Sometimes, I just want to revel in the words.

My on-line translation effort yielded a poor response, and I’d love to see it translated with the finesse I think it deserves. I can certainly understand the sentiment of “I fly! I fly!”

This translation is by my friend Spencer.
We both went to school with the composer.

Grâce à elle je vole
Because of her I fly

Elle me recommence
She renews me (literally starts me again)

Me réveille, me sonne
Awakens me, stirs me

Bellissime brise
Most beautiful breeze

Grâce à elle je vole... je vole
Because of her I fly..I fly

Ma chair cède
My flesh gives in

Mon coeur bat
My heart beats

Je nais d'un coup d'elle
I am born from the flap of her wing (this is a play on words " aile (wing) and elle are pronounced the same)

2 Replies

@George,

...continuing...

Souveraine et belle
Sovereign and beautiful

Elle embellit mon ombre
She beautifies my shadow

Grâce à elle je vole... je vole
Because of her I fly…I fly

Sans l'alibi des mots
Without the excuse of words

Sous les paupières des ses silences
Under the eye lids of her silences

S'écrient au son du sang
She shouts to the sound of blood

... souffle... et rêves
Breath and dreams

Grâce à elle je vole... je vole
Sans l'alibi des mots
Without the excuse of words

Sous les paupières des ses silences
Under the eye lids of her silences

S'écrient au son du sang
She shouts to the sound of blood

... souffle... et rêves
Breath and dreams

Grâce à elle je vole... je vole

Because of her I fly I fly

Je m'accorde à elle
I’m in tune with her

Et j'risque les mots d'amour
And I risk words of love

À elle je dois
I owe her

Cet état de grâce
This state of grace

À elle je vole... je vole
I fly to her… I fly.

À elle je vole... je vole
I fly to her..I fly

0 Replies

@George,

I’m thrilled that you did that, George.

Please thank Spencer.

(*Beams* at George)

It's wonderful.

Thanks to Her
Jim Corcoran

Because of her I fly
She renews me
Awakens me, stirs me
Most beautiful breeze
Because of her I fly..I fly

My flesh gives in
My heart beats
I am born from the flap of her wing
Sovereign and beautiful
She beautifies my shadow
Because of her I fly…I fly

Without the excuse of words
Under the eye lids of her silences
She shouts to the sound of blood
Breath and dreams
Because of her I fly…I fly

I’m in tune with her
And I risk words of love
I owe her
This state of grace

I fly to her… I fly.
I fly to her..I fly

1 Reply

@Joeblow,

I thought about this on my drive in.

Joeblow wrote:

Thanks to Her
Jim Corcoran

My apologies! It should show a translation credit.

(It's times like these that I really miss the edit function)

1 Reply

@Joeblow,

If you'll forgive a shameless plug on behalf of a friend,
the song is on Jim's Pages blanches CD.

1 Reply

@George,

I looked him up " he won a Juno for that album.

http://audiogram.ca/artist/Jim_Corcoran/overview

Grâce à elle is fantastic.

I'm thrilled, again!

Two days in a row.

Thanks, George.

Now, to listen to the rest.

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I will choose this:

A Red, Red Rose

O my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, My Dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!

Edit [Moderator]: Link removed

0 Replies

O take my hand if you are able
It's dead romantic down our stable.
The straw is deep and gold, of course,
But first we have to shift the 'orse.

Pam Ayres.

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Love poetry - What would you choose?

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