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miguel
Spain
1197 Posts |
 Posted - Jul 29 2009 : 5:40:31 PM
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That is true: then let's restrain
This wild rage, this fierce condition
Of the mind, this proud ambition,
Should we ever dream again:
And we'll do so, since 'tis plain,
In this world's uncertain gleam,
That to live is but to dream:
Man dreams what he is, and wakes
Only when upon him breaks
Death's mysterious morning beam.
The king dreams he is a king,
And in this delusive way
Lives and rules with sovereign sway;
All the cheers that round him ring,
Born of air, on air take wing.
And in ashes (mournful fate!)
Death dissolves his pride and state:
Who would wish a crown to take,
Seeing that he must awake
In the dream beyond death's gate?
And the rich man dreams of gold,
Gilding cares it scarce conceals,
And the poor man dreams he feels
Want and misery and cold.
Dreams he too who rank would hold,
Dreams who bears toil's rough-ribbed hands,
Dreams who wrong for wrong demands,
And in fine, throughout the earth,
All men dream, whate'er their birth,
And yet no one understands.
'Tis a dream that I in sadness
Here am bound, the scorn of fate;
'Twas a dream that once a state
I enjoyed of light and gladness.
What is life? 'Tis but a madness.
What is life? A thing that seems,
A mirage that falsely gleams,
Phantom joy, delusive rest,
Since is life a dream at best,
And even dreams themselves are dreams.
from the book "Life is a dream" by Pedro Calderon de la Barca.
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Edited by - miguel on Jul 29 2009 5:42:28 PM |
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miguel
Spain
1197 Posts |
Posted - Jul 29 2009 : 6:01:18 PM
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Is not that glimmer there afar---
That dying exhalation---that pale star---
A tiny taper, which, with trembling blaze
Flickering 'twixt struggling flames and dying rays,
With ineffectual spark
Makes the dark dwelling place appear more dark?
Yes, for its distant light,
Reflected dimly, brings before my sight
A dungeon's awful gloom,
Say rather of a living corse, a living tomb;
And to increase my terror and surprise,
Drest in the skins of beasts a man there lies:
A piteous sight,
Chained, and his sole companion this poor light.
·Life is a dream· P.C.B.
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Edited by - miguel on Jul 29 2009 6:12:34 PM |
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porcupine
USA
193 Posts |
Posted - Jul 29 2009 : 11:14:04 PM
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beautiful, especially like the first one, wow..
miguel you are amazing! Something about your posts is just right, thanks for being around, and sharing this poetry, by the way have you heard of Rabindrinath Tagore and Kabir?
On the Nature of Love by Rabindrinath Tagore
The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness, but where
or with whom - of that we are unaware.
But we have this faith - that a lifetime's bliss
will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.
Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs
brush us, pass us, give us delightful shocks.
Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry: `This life is blest!
for your sake such miles have I traversed!'
All those others who came close and moved off
in the darkness - I don't know if they exist or not. |
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miguel
Spain
1197 Posts |
Posted - Jul 30 2009 : 08:06:07 AM
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wow,incredible...amazing...thanks porcup.
Finally we discover that it is in us and external objects are a reflect of our inner divine nature!
I know this authors,but i havent read it yet.I know they are great authors also.
I recomend you to read one post i published here in this section a few months ago.Its called st. john of the cross.Some amazing poems there also. |
Edited by - miguel on Jul 30 2009 08:09:37 AM |
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Life is a dream.
