Come to the orchard in Spring

"Even though all it takes to fill a life is the sun, the land and a poem." --Kikuchi Masaou.

Posts tagged can

0 notes

Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone. 

Maya Angelou

Filed under Alone Maya Angelou Poem Poetry late night blow know all nobody can make it here moan lost home thirsty

4 notes

Tonight I Can Write by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

-

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry

and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

 -

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

 -

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

 -

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

 -

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

 -

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

 -

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

 -

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.

 -

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

 -

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

 -

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

 -

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

 -

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.

Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

 -

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

 -

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

 -

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

Filed under Pablo Neruda Tonight I can write the saddest lines