Poesia El pas del temps

el-pas-del-temps Lírica grega arcaica

Literatura grega Mimmermo  Soló Jenòfanes Arquíloc Semònides  Alcman  Simònides  Safo MIMNERMO (600 ac) La vellesa trista i deforme (5 D) (p.58 5) El mateix que un somni, dura un temps molt breu la joventut preciosa; i la vellesa trista i deforme penja aviat sobre el nostre cap, hostil i alhora canalla, que canvia el rostre …

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy …

Continue reading “The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost”

Herr, es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß. Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren, und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los. Befiehl den letzten Früchten, voll zu sein; gib ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage, dränge sie zur Vollendung hin, und jage die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein. Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, …

Continue reading “Herbsttag. Rilke. 1902”

Wie eng begrenzt ist unsere Tageszeit. Du warst und sahst und stauntest, schon Abend ists, Nun schlafe, wo unendlich ferne Ziehen vorüber der Völker Jahre. Què tan limitada és la nostra hora del dia. Vas ser, vas veure, et vas meravellar, i ja el vespre ara dorms, on sense parar s’escolen els anys dels pobles.

Que la vida iba en serio uno lo empieza a comprender más tarde ­ como todos los jóvenes, yo vine a llevarme la vida por delante. Dejar huella quería y marcharme entre aplausos ­ envejecer, morir, eran tan sólo las dimensiones del teatro. Pero ha pasado el tiempo y la verdad desagradable asoma: envejecer, morir, …

Continue reading “No volveré a ser joven. Jaime Gil de Biedma. 1968”

In Jüngern tagen war ich des Morgens froh, Des Abends weint ich; jetzt, da ich älter bin, Beginn ich zweifelnd meinen Tag, doch Heilig und heiter ist mir sein Ende. Els dies joves estava content al matí, Als vespres plorava; ara, que soc més gran, començo el dia dubtant, però santa i serena m’és la …

Continue reading “Ehmals und jetzt. 1798”

  Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I would let you know. If we should weep when clowns put on their show, If we should stumble when musicians play, Time will say nothing but I told you so. …

Continue reading “If I could tell you. Auden”

As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: “Love has no ending. “I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the …

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When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, ‘He was a man who used to notice such things’? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid’s silent blink, The dewfall-hawk comes …

Continue reading “Afterwards. Thomas Hardy”

But unfortunately it can only travel into the future at a rate of one second per second, which seems slow to the physicists and to the grant committees and even to me. But I manage to get there, time after time, to the next moment and to the next. Thing is, I can’t turn it …

Continue reading “I Have a Time Machine. Brenda Shaughnessy”