Literature

There is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
...
- William Butler Yeats
By far the worst is the hamburger lady.
We must heal them for the qualified technicians,
Worse,
A...
- Genesis P-Orridge
A box with paints from childhood's time:
The colors of town are earth and grime.
An old worker a...
- Julian Tuwim
Culture, which makes talent shine, is not completely ours either, nor can we place it solely at our ...
- Jose Marti
A shepherd shearing sheep one day
Declaimed most zealously
Upon the care was ta’en of sh...
- Ignacy Krasicki
The moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard.
The little boy stares at her, stares...
- Federico García Lorca
I'll never step ashore and feel your beach
the way I felt it as a barefoot child,
or see you waver...
- Ugo Fuscolo
A land, as far as the eye can see, where the waving grasses grow
Or the plains are blackened and b...
- Andrew Barton Paterson
 Art -  Literature - Alfred de Musset - French poet
Alfred de Musset - French poet
Posted:
February 9th 2013
Member:
 
Contributed by user for educational purposes only. User is not author.
From far abroad, from across the sea, from the glowing south, the messengers of spring, the beloved ...
- Rikard Katalinic Jeretov
 Art -  Literature - Marie Under
Marie Under
Posted:
August 10th 2014
Member:
 
Contributed by user for educational purposes only. User is not author.
Up, Amarylis! Darling, awaken!
Through the still bracken
Soft airs swell;
...
- Carl Michael Bellman
In a few days
it shall belong to the past.
in order to forget
I'll give myself
to the warm glow
...
- Hendrik Marsman
Before us is the iron coin. Now let us ask
The two opposing faces what the answer will be
To the i...
- Jorge Luis Borges
A suicide in front of a mirror.
A frightened soul.
The wind moans in the black woods.
The night'...
- Srecko Kosovel
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sle...
- Langston Hughes
LULLABY, little Love,
Slumber sweetly, slumber deep,
Though your cradle will not move,
I shall...
- Adam Oehlenschlager
'Tis an eerie thing o'er the moor to fare
When the eddies of peat-smoke justle,
When the wra...
- Annette von Droste-Hülshoff