17
Is there greater happiness in old age
That listening to the birds?
More than reading Montaigne or Boileau,
More than writing a few rondeaux,
Is there no greater happiness in old age,
what is the use of regrets,
To have loved in one’s youth,
To be 20 years old in the Jura,
write us some rondeaux,
Which soothe the most virulent sorrows,
What does the glory of Walt Whitman matter,
Is there greater happiness in old age
That listening to the birds?
18
A day without looking at the sea
Would be a lost day,
What is your most cherished dream,
Will Lucille like Chengdu,
Will you be an unknown poet?
The sea doesn’t know people
She makes me think of something else,
Like a cat, or a rose,
What is your most cherished dream?
Will you see Montana again?
Will Lucille still please you?
A day without looking at the sea
Would be a lost day.
Aunque él deber
te dicte hoy
otro destinó.
Y al estar sólo
busques él refugió
de otro nido.
Prometeme
qué aún volverás,
tesoro mío.
Confirma tú regresó,
con ese
apasionado besó.
Y cómo velero fiel,
lucharás contra
la marea o viento--
por nuevamente anclar
en este, tú amado puerto.
Tú por mi, regresarás.
Cobijame
con la llama
de pasión intensa--
que guardas
en tu pecho.
Para que mi llanto seque
y así pueda escuchar
la oscura
y triste novedad.
Brindemos
por esté adiós,
no sea eterno.
Con vino rojo
y dulce, del bueno.
Aunque cada buche--
traiga hoy tanta amargura--
al digerir la amarga
e agria realidad.
Regalame
esa fuerza intensa--
qué otorga tú mirada.
Porqué es imagin--
la qué logra que pueda
conseguir el sueño.
Ahí tal vez pueda--
tener algo
de felicidad.
Consuelame,
con la esperanza en tú voz--
que ahora me jura,
anclada frente a Dios--
prometiendo tú regreso.
Porqué aunque
despedazado hoy
queda él corazón--
siempre te esperará.
Juxtaposition III
I
Her beauty is like the dawn of the day,
Gentle and mild, pricking the strings of hay,
In such melody that outweighs the hearts,
Bewitching all mouths to move in her art.
Even the sun grudge thy lofty beauty,
That she stay awhile, you to keep beaming.
II
Like the ocean in multifacity;
Torpedo like a comet, calm in deal.
Metamorphosing such that none could get
The notion tossed at the humans that begged.
As they ply through knowledge, little they know.
Like this colleen: more complex as she grow.
Jura and Libra failed in description
Of this angelic made human ocean.
19:8:10:11:40
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral Piece. Juxtaposition III
Watch video
https://youtu.be/5m36I7GjYF4
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.