Poesie in lingua straniera


Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
Morns like these - we parted -
Noons like these - she rose -
Fluttering first - then firmer
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it -
It was not for me -
She - was mute from transport -
I - from agony -

Till - the evening nearing
One the curtains drew -
Quick! A sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
    England'S on the anvil--hear the hammers ring--
    Clanging from the Severn to the Tyne!
    Never was a blacksmith like our Norman King--
    England's being hammered, hammered, hammered into line!

    England's on the anvil! Heavy are the blows!
    (But the work will be a marvel when it's done. )
    Little bits of Kingdoms cannot stand against their foes.
    England's being hammered hammered, hammered into one!

    There shall be one people--it shall serve one Lord--
    (Neither Priest nor Baron shall escape! )
    It shall have one speech and law, soul and strength and sword.
    England's being hammered, hammered, hammered into
    shape!
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)

      The Answer

      A Rose, in tatters on the garden path,
      Cried out to God and murmured 'gainst His Wrath,
      Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush
      Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush.
      And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun,
      Had pity, whispering to that luckless one,
      "Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well --
      What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell? "
      And the Rose answered, "In that evil hour
      A voice said, 'Father, wherefore falls the flower?
      For lo, the very gossamers are still. '
      And a voice answered, 'Son, by Allah's will! '"

      Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward,
      Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord:
      "Sister, before We smote the Dark in twain,
      Ere yet the stars saw one another plain,
      Time, Tide, and Space, We bound unto the task
      That thou shouldst fall, and such an one should ask. "
      Whereat the withered flower, all content,
      Died as they die whose days are innocent;
      While he who questioned why the flower fell
      Caught hold of God and saved his soul from Hell.
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        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        in Poesie (Poesie in lingua straniera)
        Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood,
         Our furs with the drifted snow,
        As we come in with the seal--the seal!
         In from the edge of the floe.

        Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!
         And the yelping dog-teams go;
        And the long whips crack, and the men come back,
         Back from the edge of the floe!

        We tracked our seal to his secret place,
         We heard him scratch below,
        We made our mark, and we watched beside,
         Out on the edge of the floe.

        We raised our lance when he rose to breathe,
         We drove it downward--so!
        And we played him thus, and we killed him thus,
         Out on the edge of the floe.

        Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood,
         Our eyes with the drifting snow;
        But we come back to our wives again,
         Back from the edge of the floe!

        Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!
         And the loaded dog-teams go;
        And the wives can hear their men come back,
         Back from the edge of the floe!
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