Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
- Thread starter alinos
- Data e fillimit
alinos
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Seeking Beauty
COLD winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me
Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth --
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.
To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass,
Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice
Of either sun or shade, and both are green --
A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice.
The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower
So like a little heaven with one star out;
I see an amber lake of buttercups,
And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about.
The old Oak tree looks now so green and young,
That even swallows perch awhile and sing:
This is that time of year, so sweet and warm,
When bats wait not for stars ere they take wing.
As long as I love Beauty I am young,
Am young or old as I love more or less;
When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale,
My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress.
W.H. Davies
Seeking Beauty
COLD winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me
Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth --
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.
To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass,
Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice
Of either sun or shade, and both are green --
A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice.
The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower
So like a little heaven with one star out;
I see an amber lake of buttercups,
And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about.
The old Oak tree looks now so green and young,
That even swallows perch awhile and sing:
This is that time of year, so sweet and warm,
When bats wait not for stars ere they take wing.
As long as I love Beauty I am young,
Am young or old as I love more or less;
When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale,
My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress.
W.H. Davies
William Wallas
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Evito "kontornon" dhe "masen" !!!
Evito "kontornon" dhe "masen" !!!
alinos
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Broken Dreams
THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake - that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty - for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, "Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
William Butler Yeats
Broken Dreams
THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake - that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty - for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, "Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
William Butler Yeats
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
E bukur poezia e cituar Alinos. Shije e vecante. Ne fakt, duke qene e cmendur pas poezise, poezise se vertete e kam fjalen, Yeats-i eshte nje nga ata qe me ka marre zemren. Eshte e cuditshme, por ai e paraqet jeten brenda vetes ne menyre shume mistike. Ndoshta eshte merite e vendit prej nga vjen. Ne shkolle e dashuroja, sepse kishte kaq muzikalitet sa po te doje, ndersa i lexoje vargjet, te dukej sikur po degjoje nje nga ato baladat irlandeze (that's what I'm doing now). Une po te sjell dicka tjeter nga ai. Ndoshta, duket sikur nuk lidhet shume me temen ketu, por jeten mund ta gjesh kudo, edhe tek keto rreshta qe tregojne se po nuk jetove nuk arrin te besh dot gjera kaq te bukura. /pf/images/graemlins/smile.gif
-------------------------------
The Dawn
I WOULD be ignorant as the dawn
That has looked down
On that old queen measuring a town
With the pin of a brooch,
Or on the withered men that saw
From their pedantic Babylon
The careless planets in their courses,
The stars fade out where the moon comes,
And took their tablets and did sums;
I would be ignorant as the dawn
That merely stood, rocking the glittering coach
Above the cloudy shoulders of the horses;
I would be—for no knowledge is worth a straw—
Ignorant and wanton as the dawn.
William Butler Yeats
E bukur poezia e cituar Alinos. Shije e vecante. Ne fakt, duke qene e cmendur pas poezise, poezise se vertete e kam fjalen, Yeats-i eshte nje nga ata qe me ka marre zemren. Eshte e cuditshme, por ai e paraqet jeten brenda vetes ne menyre shume mistike. Ndoshta eshte merite e vendit prej nga vjen. Ne shkolle e dashuroja, sepse kishte kaq muzikalitet sa po te doje, ndersa i lexoje vargjet, te dukej sikur po degjoje nje nga ato baladat irlandeze (that's what I'm doing now). Une po te sjell dicka tjeter nga ai. Ndoshta, duket sikur nuk lidhet shume me temen ketu, por jeten mund ta gjesh kudo, edhe tek keto rreshta qe tregojne se po nuk jetove nuk arrin te besh dot gjera kaq te bukura. /pf/images/graemlins/smile.gif
-------------------------------
The Dawn
I WOULD be ignorant as the dawn
That has looked down
On that old queen measuring a town
With the pin of a brooch,
Or on the withered men that saw
From their pedantic Babylon
The careless planets in their courses,
The stars fade out where the moon comes,
And took their tablets and did sums;
I would be ignorant as the dawn
That merely stood, rocking the glittering coach
Above the cloudy shoulders of the horses;
I would be—for no knowledge is worth a straw—
Ignorant and wanton as the dawn.
William Butler Yeats
alinos
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,
upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
p.s. te kam thene se kam qene tek shpia e Poe, por kuptohet pa dicituren perkatese, asgje nga fotot nuk te tregon se je ne shtepine e tij. Jashte po, verehet nje statuje e The Raven
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,
upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
p.s. te kam thene se kam qene tek shpia e Poe, por kuptohet pa dicituren perkatese, asgje nga fotot nuk te tregon se je ne shtepine e tij. Jashte po, verehet nje statuje e The Raven
alinos
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906)
We Wear the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906)
We Wear the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Langston Hughes - Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
P.S Sooo cute your avatar alinos, too innocent for this world.
)))))))))
Langston Hughes - Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
P.S Sooo cute your avatar alinos, too innocent for this world.
)))))))))
alinos
Forumium maestatis
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
edhe une e bera nje gomarllek mbreme. E bera dhe fjeta rehat pas saj. S'e bera se shpresoja ndonje gje, thjesht sepse sa pa e bere nuk arrija te flija. E bera dhe rashe te fle.
Sot nuk jam mire, jam keq do te thoja, por te pakten bera ate qe ndjeja, per nje sekonde... :shrug:
edhe une e bera nje gomarllek mbreme. E bera dhe fjeta rehat pas saj. S'e bera se shpresoja ndonje gje, thjesht sepse sa pa e bere nuk arrija te flija. E bera dhe rashe te fle.
Sot nuk jam mire, jam keq do te thoja, por te pakten bera ate qe ndjeja, per nje sekonde... :shrug:
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Kuptoj qe duhet nje guxim prej te marri per te jetuar. Te behemi te marre, atehere. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Me e lehte per t'u thene sesa per t'u bere. Megjithate, dicka duhet bere. Shpesh qendrojme ne nje cep me syte nga qielli per nje meteor qe do te na plotesoje nje deshire dhe doren tek filli i telefonit qe nuk do e nuk do te bjere. Rrime e numerojme c'kemi bere e c'nuk kemi bere gjate dites. Nuk e di perfundimin, del gjithnje i ndryshem, se e keqja e kesaj pune eshte se nuk ka aritmetike te thjeshte absolute. Aty ku dy e dy bejne dhjete, eshte e pamundur te ndertosh teorema apo aksioma. Sidoqofte, perpiqemi here pas here te tregojme qe reagojme dhe reagojme vertet. C'rendesi ka se me pas ndihemi keq? Te pakten, veten nuk do ta qortosh "pse nuk e bera"?
When I see things that are, I ask myself "Why", when I see things which do not exist, I ask myself "Why NOT?!"
Kuptoj qe duhet nje guxim prej te marri per te jetuar. Te behemi te marre, atehere. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Me e lehte per t'u thene sesa per t'u bere. Megjithate, dicka duhet bere. Shpesh qendrojme ne nje cep me syte nga qielli per nje meteor qe do te na plotesoje nje deshire dhe doren tek filli i telefonit qe nuk do e nuk do te bjere. Rrime e numerojme c'kemi bere e c'nuk kemi bere gjate dites. Nuk e di perfundimin, del gjithnje i ndryshem, se e keqja e kesaj pune eshte se nuk ka aritmetike te thjeshte absolute. Aty ku dy e dy bejne dhjete, eshte e pamundur te ndertosh teorema apo aksioma. Sidoqofte, perpiqemi here pas here te tregojme qe reagojme dhe reagojme vertet. C'rendesi ka se me pas ndihemi keq? Te pakten, veten nuk do ta qortosh "pse nuk e bera"?
When I see things that are, I ask myself "Why", when I see things which do not exist, I ask myself "Why NOT?!"
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Never seek to tell thy love
Love that never told could be
For the gentle wind does move
silently, invisibly
Didn't tell him anything... Do I dare disturb your universe... But we take time to try and heal some wonds that remain. There will be time for a hundred other decisions.... there will be time. Time hurts, I am hurt, I cry, I'm helpless to raise myself above everything intrinsic with suffering or apathy. Helpess of fighting, lacking energy, lacking the slightest motivation to carry on... No, not suicide is crossing my mind. I'm too coward to be drastic... at least this. I'm hurt, i'm so damned hurt, while nobody did nothing to hurt me. They only didn't see what I saw, didn't hear what I caught, didn't feel what I felt... they were silent, and it hurt me so hard. Eyes are dripping somehow... a handcarchief and all over, what to do with heart and inner self... no silken cloth to dry what's wet of tears. But, they will both survive... what about silence and untold.... to whom may I confess, to whom want I say this... nobody but me. Myself and me ... the greatest enemy
You didn't see the bitter trace
Of anguish sweep accross my face
You didn't hear my proud heart beat
heavy and slow beneath your feet
You thought of triumphs still unwon
Of glorius deeds as yet undone
And I, the while you talked to Me
I watched the gulls float lonesomely
Till lost amid the hungry blue
And loved you... better than you knew.
Never seek to tell thy love
Love that never told could be
For the gentle wind does move
silently, invisibly
Didn't tell him anything... Do I dare disturb your universe... But we take time to try and heal some wonds that remain. There will be time for a hundred other decisions.... there will be time. Time hurts, I am hurt, I cry, I'm helpless to raise myself above everything intrinsic with suffering or apathy. Helpess of fighting, lacking energy, lacking the slightest motivation to carry on... No, not suicide is crossing my mind. I'm too coward to be drastic... at least this. I'm hurt, i'm so damned hurt, while nobody did nothing to hurt me. They only didn't see what I saw, didn't hear what I caught, didn't feel what I felt... they were silent, and it hurt me so hard. Eyes are dripping somehow... a handcarchief and all over, what to do with heart and inner self... no silken cloth to dry what's wet of tears. But, they will both survive... what about silence and untold.... to whom may I confess, to whom want I say this... nobody but me. Myself and me ... the greatest enemy
You didn't see the bitter trace
Of anguish sweep accross my face
You didn't hear my proud heart beat
heavy and slow beneath your feet
You thought of triumphs still unwon
Of glorius deeds as yet undone
And I, the while you talked to Me
I watched the gulls float lonesomely
Till lost amid the hungry blue
And loved you... better than you knew.
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
It dissolved in silence... untold is and untold shall remain... the disgrace of words!!!Fillimisht postuar nga eniad:
[qb]My fear is they could dissolve and become "Like a patient etherized upon a table"!!!! [/qb]Fillimisht postuar nga alinos:
[qb] /pf/images/graemlins/smile.gif
Let dreams go, they have their own etherical existence ...
Re: Nuk gjen dot paqen duke evituar jeten!
Kam dite tashme qe perpiqem te marr ne dore nje rrjedhe normale te jetuari, por te them te drejten, qenka nje ferr i vertete. Jam ne nje gjendje enderr-zhgjenderr, ashtu si ato here kur te merret fryma ne gjume dhe e di qe nuk eshte e vertete dhe perpiqesh me te gjitha forcat te zgjohesh. Mekanizmi i vetereagimit nuk me ka zhgenjyer ndonjehere, por as edhe njehere te vetme nuk m'i ka thjeshtuar gjerat, perkundrazi. Sa shume dua qe te kaloje kjo periudhe e veshtire. Jam zhytur ne pune dhe nuk po bej asgje tjeter vecse te rri ulur perpara kompjuterit dhe t'u jap gishtave ne tastiere. It's rather exhausting. Megjithate, do te kaloje, te pakten shpresoj.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But, I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep
Kam dite tashme qe perpiqem te marr ne dore nje rrjedhe normale te jetuari, por te them te drejten, qenka nje ferr i vertete. Jam ne nje gjendje enderr-zhgjenderr, ashtu si ato here kur te merret fryma ne gjume dhe e di qe nuk eshte e vertete dhe perpiqesh me te gjitha forcat te zgjohesh. Mekanizmi i vetereagimit nuk me ka zhgenjyer ndonjehere, por as edhe njehere te vetme nuk m'i ka thjeshtuar gjerat, perkundrazi. Sa shume dua qe te kaloje kjo periudhe e veshtire. Jam zhytur ne pune dhe nuk po bej asgje tjeter vecse te rri ulur perpara kompjuterit dhe t'u jap gishtave ne tastiere. It's rather exhausting. Megjithate, do te kaloje, te pakten shpresoj.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But, I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep