Solitude

Solitude at an Inn
 

Oft upon the twilight plain,
Circled with thy shadowy train,
While the dove at distance coo'd,
Have I met thee, Solitude!
Then was loneliness to me
Best and true society,
But ah! how alter'd is thy mien
In this sad deserted scene!
Here all thy classic pleasures cease,
Musing mild, and thoughtful peace;
Here thou com'st in sullen mood,
Not with thy fantastic brood
Of magic shapes and visions airy
Beckon'd from the land of Fairy:
'Mid the melancholy void
Not a pensive charm enjoy'd!
No poetic being here
Strikes with airy sounds mine ear;
No converse here to fancy cold
With many a fleeting form I hold,
Here all inelegant and rude
Thy presence is, sweet Solitude.

Thomas Warton

Barbara
La solitude

(Paroles et Musique: Barbara)


Je l'ai trouvée devant ma porte,
Un soir, que je rentrais chez moi.
Partout, elle me fait escorte.
Elle est revenue, elle est là,
La renifleuse des amours mortes.
Elle m'a suivie, pas à pas.
La garce, que le Diable l'emporte !
Elle est revenue, elle est là

Avec sa gueule de carême
Avec ses larges yeux cernés,
Elle nous fait le cœur à la traîne,
Elle nous fait le cœur à pleurer,
Elle nous fait des mains blêmes
Et de longues nuits désolées.
La garce ! Elle nous ferait même
L'hiver au plein cœur de l'été.

Dans ta triste robe de moire
Avec tes cheveux mal peignés,
T'as la mine du désespoir,
Tu n'es pas belle à regarder.
Allez, va t-en porter ailleurs
Ta triste gueule de l'ennui.
Je n'ai pas le goût du malheur.
Va t-en voir ailleurs si j'y suis !

Je veux encore rouler des hanches,
Je veux me saouler de printemps,
Je veux m'en payer, des nuits blanches,
A cœur qui bat, à cœur battant.
Avant que sonne l'heure blême
Et jusqu'à mon souffle dernier,
Je veux encore dire "je t'aime"
Et vouloir mourir d'aimer.

Elle a dit : "Ouvre-moi ta porte.
Je t'avais suivie pas à pas.
Je sais que tes amours sont mortes.
Je suis revenue, me voilà.
Ils t'ont récité leurs poèmes,
Tes beaux messieurs, tes beaux enfants,
Tes faux Rimbaud, tes faux Verlaine.
Eh ! bien, c'est fini, maintenant."

Depuis, elle me fait des nuits blanches.
Elle s'est pendue à mon cou,
Elle s'est enroulée à mes genoux.
Partout, elle me fait escorte
Et elle me suit, pas à pas.
Elle m'attend devant ma porte.
Elle est revenue, elle est là,
La solitude, la solitude...

Best Society
 

When I was a child, I thought,
Casually, that solitude
Never needed to be sought.
Something everybody had,
Like nakedness, it lay at hand,
Not specially right or specially wrong,
A plentiful and obvious thing
Not at all hard to understand.

Then, after twenty, it became
At once more difficult to get
And more desired - though all the same
More undesirable; for what
You are alone has, to achieve
The rank of fact, to be expressed
In terms of others, or it's just
A compensating make-believe.

Much better stay in company!
To love you must have someone else,
Giving requires a legatee,
Good neighbours need whole parishfuls
Of folk to do it on - in short,
Our virtues are all social; if,
Deprived of solitude, you chafe,
It's clear you're not the virtuous sort.

Viciously, then, I lock my door.
The gas-fire breathes. The wind outside
Ushers in evening rain. Once more
Uncontradicting solitude
Supports me on its giant palm;
And like a sea-anemone
Or simple snail, there cautiously
Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

Philip Larkin

Fortress of Solitude
 


There is dissention in my ranks
Someone's robbed my emotional banks
Left me all for broke
Such a great joke.

Whenever I'm free
My demons always find me,
Lonely bullets of kryptonite.
Whenever she comes into sight….

I suffer from…

Habitual digression of social participation
Waves of suicidal depression, my true confessions.
Like Superman I'll fly away
Hide in my fortress today.

Here in my fortress of solitude
My reclusive views find rectitude.
Seems I've fallen symptom
To a lifelong state of lonesome.

Eroticism could never exist,
I'm the superman girls resist.
Her kryptonic lust attack
Throws me, full-force, back.

Every time that she is around
My fetus-coiled self is bound
To run and hide, transform Clark,
Superman's flown to his ark.

It's just a case of…

Habitual digression of social participation,
Waves of suicidal depressions, my true confessions.
Like Superman I'll fly away,
Hide in my fortress today.

Here in my fortress of solitude
My reclusive views find rectitude.
Seems I've fallen symptom
To a life long state of lonesome.

Within myself I'm so secure
Anti-intimacy shields to reassure
That I'm the only one near;
Isolation in my own fear.

Is this? ?
Could it be? ?
It's just another case of…

Habitual digression of social participation,
Waves of suicidal depressions, my true confessions.
Like Superman I'll fly away,
Hide in my fortress today.

Here in my fortress of solitude
My reclusive views find rectitude.
Seems I've fallen symptom
To a life long state of lonesome.

Robert L. Bixler III

City Spells
 


a city spins its spell

within the metal lives that swim
in churning rivers of rippling chrome

futures are made or broken
through the neural telephones

a city spins its spell

around the teenage tramp
- the one who got away
and found the company of many

screaming in solitude
thousands who sit and wait

like tarnished pennies
in urban squats

a city spins its spell

upon the midnight cats in alleys
who find beneath their ragged feet

laughter and tears all spilled
through the city's conceit

a city spins its spell
upon the silence of a crowded street

Simon Whild

SHARDS
 

Jealousy's breaking your heart into shards
Disappointed and cheated by your date
No earthly reason, it's maybe in the cards
To clean up your act it's rather too late

Without love you're gonna go downhill
You're not strong enough to live on your own
For that kind of betrayal you can't sit still
You're doing the drink thing till you're blown

You wish you picked up a man on the street
But something deep inside is holding you back
To fall in love again you have cold feet
Solitude's making you blow your stack

Aram Stefanian

Blizzard
 


Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down --
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes --
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there --
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.

William Carlos Williams

I Cannot be Known

 

I cannot be known
Better than you know me

Your eyes in which we sleep
We together
Have made for my man's gleam
A better fate than for the common nights

Your eyes in which I travel
Have given to signs along the roads
A meaning alien to the earth

In your eyes who reveal to us
Our endless solitude

Are no longer what they thought themselves to be

You cannot be known
Better than I know you.



Paul Eluard
On ne peut me connaître

On ne peut me connaître
Mieux que tu me connais

Tes yeux dans lesquels nous dormons
Tous les deux
Ont fait à mes lumières d'homme
Un sort meilleur qu'aux nuits du monde
Tes yeux dans lesquels je voyage
Ont donné aux gestes des routes
Un sens détaché de la terre

Dans tes yeux ceux qui nous révèlent
Notre solitude infinie
Ne sont plus ce qu' ils croyaient être

On ne peut te connaître
Mieux que je te connais.








C'est complet

Solitude
 

This is the maiden Solitude, too fair
For mortal eyes to gaze on--she who dwells
In the lone valley where the water wells
Clear from the marble, where the mountain air
Is resinous with pines, and white peaks bare
Their unpolluted bosoms to the stars,
And holy Reverence the passage bars
To meaner souls who seek to enter there;
Only the worshipper at Nature's shrine
May find that maiden waiting to be won,
With broad calm brow and meek eyes of the dove,
May drink the rarer ether all divine,
And, earthly toils and earthly troubles done,
May win the longed-for sweetness of her love.

James Lister Cuthbertson

Non ho fiumi io,

non ho mai vissuto sporgendo

il volto sull'acqua

che quieta o vorticosa

taglia la città, nobilita o nel gorgo

riporta via tutti i pensieri.

Non ho avuto

gradoni di pietra su cui disteso

perdere sotto il sole

il lume della mente, addormentando.

Non la loro vita

da rubare, da prendere

nel sangue quel ritmo,

quel fermento.

Ho avuto viali,

strade larghe, rumorose, il getto alto

di tangenziali,

braccia aperte di povera madre

vene da cui entra in città

ogni genere di roba.

Ho avuto viali d'alberi

o rapide vertigini tra pareti di acciaio

e di vetro oscuro.

Cento volte risaliti, come vecchie

canzoni, cento volte ridiscesi,

nessuno più che chiede

che davvero lo si guardi.

Ho avuto viali che il caos

rende identici, che sotto la pioggia

sono l'inferno,

sono frenetici.

Ma alla notte, quando cade

la notte

si ridisegnano,

viali nuovi

d'ombra e di solitudine,

quando li illumina il lento

collo dei lampioni e lo spegnersi

delle ultime réclame.

Si muovono allora leggermente,

ramificano, forse rotea un poco

tutta la città;

qualcuno finisce

in faccia a un castello, a una

cattedrale, altri smuoiono

sotto i fari arancio di un nodo autostradale - -

i viali la notte respirano

con le foglie dei platani, larghe, nere,

per i buchi oscuri alle finestre,

le grate del metrò e l'aria nenia

che dorme sui bambini.

Tirano il fiato quando va via

il passaggero sull'ultimo tram -

I viali mi danno

una vita speciale,

che non è pianto e allegria

non è, ma una ventosità,

un andare

ancora andare

che viene da chissà che mari,

da quali valli, da grandi fiumi.


Davide Rondoni

(Io non voglio diventare vecchio

perché lo sono già stato mille volte)

Francis,

Il nome di poesia
Autore
Per favore
Ringraziamenti



Meu poema
Escreveu-o?

Me, Myself, and I
 


I feel lonely
in a crowded room
People are cold and rude
Nobody pays attention
Back to my solitude
Another night I spend alone
Thoughts drawn by myself
Times answered, what is this?
No life questioned, they don't miss
Hardest to look--outside
I stare in the mirror
so much
I can't believe it's me
There seems to be a difference
between myself and my reflection
This doesn't make sense
It's me, myself and I
I just can't help but to wonder
Which of us is real.

Victor Osorio

An Experienced Traveler
 


An experienced traveler,
She knew the road
Even in the dark
When detour signs
Loomed frighteningly
Like a shadow of the reaper
Keeping her on track.

An experienced traveler,
She would never go down
Unmarked lanes
Where glades awaited
Ponds beckoned
Solitude abounded.

An experienced traveler,
She consulted her maps,
Checked her watch,
Patted her passport
And touched her ready umbrella
Satisfied she was prepared.

An experienced traveler,
She knew how to arrive
Safely at her destination
Without seeing anything
Interesting.


Raynette Eitel











 



 









 

The Living Beauty
 

I BADE, because the wick and oil are spent
And frozen are the channels of the blood,
My discontented heart to draw content
From beauty that is cast out of a mould
In bronze, or that in dazzling marble appears,
Appears, but when wc have gone is gone again,
Being more indifferent to our solitude
Than 'twere an apparition. O heart, we are old;
The living beauty is for younger men:
We cannot pay its rribute of wild tears.

William Butler Yeats

A Shout from the Heart of the Square
 


The Lion of St. Mark's
soars above the piazza
canopied by a blue winter sky.
And I,
down here among the din
of shopkeepers and tourists
and snooty café waiters,
am roaring with my youth
and my solitude
and the pure joy
of anonymity
and fiery
freedom.


Justine Camacho

Silence
 

(To Eleonora Duse)

We are anhungered after solitude,
Deep stillness pure of any speech or sound,
Soft quiet hovering over pools profound,
The silences that on the desert brood,
Above a windless hush of empty seas,
The broad unfurling banners of the dawn,
A faery forest where there sleeps a Faun;
Our souls are fain of solitudes like these.
O woman who divined our weariness,
And set the crown of silence on your art,
>From what undreamed-of depth within your heart
Have you sent forth the hush that makes us free
To hear an instant, high above earth's stress,
The silent music of infinity?

Sara Teasdale

Quiet Night
 


I sit in the quiet recess of my home
And I listen as the world speaks
I hear the soft sounds of childrens' breath
The gentle snore of my husband's slumber
The pit pat of the cat walking by
I close my eyes and go further
The bug zapper zapping the bugs
Unfortunate enough to be it's prey
I hear the crickets chirpping in the night
Almost as if in a symphony of their own
I hear cries in the dark
As the preator finds it's prey
I hear the breathless sigh of the trees
As the wind blows gently through the leaves
I can almost feel the earth move
As the quiet that is not, engulfs me
In the solitude of the night

Mahnaz ZardoustAhari

 



 









 

Solitude night



A road of alcohol between your fingers who dressed
like breaths

A life anywhere between my dreams
of restricted sleeps

A night of nightmare in the tired strings
of your biting arms

A sad story that flows over the lost moons
of your forehead

I dispatch your fragile smiles to the drawer
of my insomnias



I inoculate the balm of your lips over my blanks
of dreams

I emprison your mobile looks to the sprawls
of your avid fingers

I sculpt the stone of your breasts over the mold
of my nights of iron

And the night has all the same dispatch its solitude

mistress

In The Depths of Solitude


i exist in the depths of solitude
pondering my true goal
trying 2 find peace of mind
and still preserve my soul
constantly yearning 2 be accepted
and from all receive respect
never comprising but sometimes risky
and that is my only regret
a young heart with an old soul
how can there be peace
how can i be in the depths of solitude
when there r 2 inside of me
this duo within me causes
the perfect oppurtunity
2 learn and live twice as fast
as those who accept simplicity

Like Crusoe, Walking by the Lonely Strand
 


Like Crusoe, walking by the lonely strand
And seeing a human footprint on the sand,
Have I this day been startled, finding here,
Set in brown mould, and delicately clear,
Spring's footprint--the first crocus of the year!
O sweet invasion! Farewell solitude!
Soon shall wild creatures of the field and wood
Flock from all sides with much ado and stir,
And make of me most willing prisoner!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich