Category Archives: Poetry

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Waves dressed in sapphire,
green eyes aglow –
Pulsing through me,
her currents flow –
Deep breath, exhales,
protruding through Icelandic vales –
Наши сердца,
переплетаются в одно.

Sailing to Byzantium

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
– Those dying generations – at their song,
The salmon‐falls, the mackerel‐crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing‐masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

-William Butler Yeats

Two

I don’t sleep, but I suddenly wake
My head is a race track
Your toy car follows each age line in my face
I smile
New lines are formed

Today you are two

Height, weight, and age can be measured
You can not measure my patience
But you know how to test it
Bip the Clown is no mute
A handsome Blok nonetheless
You can not measure my happiness
But you know how to grant it

Preparing for work
Drab as a fool, aloof as a bard
I daydream we are an adagio pair
And you are Atlantis soaring
Toothpaste drips onto my shirt

Stomping
Here comes the son
Winked an eye as you pointed your finger…
“I pooped Dada!”

Soon there will be two

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