When You Are Old

by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of

sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down

this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft

look

Your eyes had once, and of their

shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad

grace,

And loved your beauty with love false

or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in

you,

And loved the sorrows of your

changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing

bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains

overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of

day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is

right,

Because their words had forked no lightning

they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how

bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a

green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in

flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its

way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with

blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be

gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad

height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears,

I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep:

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry:

I am not there; I did not die.

Song

by Christina Rossetti

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

Ivan Goran Kovačić:

Jama

I.

Krv je moje svjetlo i moja tama.

Blaženu noć su meni iskopali

Sa sretnim vidom iz očinjih jama;

Od kaplja dana bijesni oganj pali

Krvavu zjenu u mozgu, ko ranu.

Moje su oči zgasle na mome dlanu.

Sigurno još su treperile ptice

U njima, nebo blago se okrenu;

I ćutio sam, krvavo mi lice

Utonulo je s modrinom u zjenu;

Na dlanu oči zrakama se smiju

I moje suze ne mogu da liju.

Samo kroz prste kapale su kapi

Tople i guste, koje krvnik nađe

Još gorčom mukom duplja koje zjapi -

Da bodež u vrat zabode mi slađe:

A mene dragost ove krvi uze,

I ćutio sam kaplje kao suze.

Posljednje svjetlo prije strašne noći

Bio je bljesak munjevita noža,

I vrisak, bijel još i sad u sljepoći,

I bijela, bijela krvnikova koža;

Jer do pojasa svi su bili goli

I tako nagi oči su nam boli.

O bolno svjetlo, nikad tako jako

I oštro nikad nisi sinulo u zori,

U strijeli, ognju; i ko da sam plako

Vatrene suze s kojih duplje gori:

A kroz taj pako bljeskovi su pekli,

Vriskovi drugih mučenika sjekli.

Ne znam, koliko žar je bijesni trajo,

Kad grozne kvrge s duplja rasti stanu,

Ko kugle tvrde, i jedva sam stajo.

Tad spoznah skliske oči na svom

dlanu

I rekoh: "Slijep sam, mila moja mati,

Kako ću tebe sada oplakati..."

A silno svjetlo, ko stotine zvona

Sa zvonika bijelih, u pameti

Ludoj sijevne: svjetlost sa Siona,

Divna svjetlost, svjetlost koja svijeti!

Svijetla ptico! Svijetlo drvo! Rijeko!

Mjeseče! Svjetlo ko majčino mlijeko!

Al ovu strašnu bol već nisam čeko:

Krvnik mi reče: "Zgnječi svoje oči!"

Obezumljen sam skoro preda nj kleko,

Kad grč mi šaku gustom sluzi smoči;

I više nisam ništa čuo, znao:

U bezdan kao u raku sam pao.

Човек пева после рата

Ја сам газио у крви до колена,

И немам више снова.

Сестра ми се продала

И мајци су ми посекли седе косе.

И ја у овом мутном мору блуда и кала

Не тражим плена:

Ох, ја сам жељан зрака! И млека!

И беле јутарње росе!

Ја сам се смејао у крви до колена,

и нисам питао: зашто?

Брата сам звао душманом клетим,

И кликтао сам кад се у мраку напред хрли,

И онда лети к врагу и Бог, и човек, и ров!

А данас мирно гледам како ми жељену

жену

губави бакалин грли,

и како ми с главе разноси кров; -

и немам воље – ил немам снаге – да му се

светим.

Ја сам до јуче покорно сагибо главу

И бесно сам љубио срам.

И до јуче нисам знао судбину своју праву –

Али је данас знам!

Ох, та ја сам Човек! Човек!

Није ми жао што сам газио у крви до

колена

и преживео црвене године клања,

ради овог светог сазнања

што ми је донело пропаст.

И ја не тражим плена:

Ох, дајте мени још само шаку зрака

И мало беле, јутарње росе –

Остало вам на част!

Душан Васиљев

She Walks in Beauty BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON)

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,

Blood and revenge are hammering in my

head”

“Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones;

Who, though they cannot answer my distress,

Yet in some sort they are better than the

tribunes,

For that they will not intercept my tale:

When I do weep, they humbly at my feet

Receive my tears and seem to weep with me;

And, were they but attired in grave weeds,

Rome could afford no tribune like to these.”

“In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;

Rome's readiest champions, repose you here

in rest,

Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!

Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,

Here grow no damned grudges; here are no

storms,

No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!”

Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;

And, being so, shall have like want of pity.

These words are razors to my wounded

heart.

“The curves of your lips rewrite history.”

“It might be that to surrender to

happiness was to accept defeat, but it was

a defeat better than many victories.”

“Once upon a time there was a boy who

loved a girl, and her laughter was a

question he wanted to spend his whole

life answering.”

“In spite of everything, I still believe

people are really good at heart.”

"Memories warm you up from the inside but they also

tear you apart"

“The pieces I am, she gather them and

gave them back to me in all the right

order.”

“We cross our bridges as we come to

them and burn them behind us, with

nothing to show for our progress except a

memory of the smell of smoke, and the

presumption that once our eyes watered.”

“There are darknesses in life and there

are lights, and you are one of the lights,

the light of all lights.”

“I have spread my dreams under your

feet; / Tread softly because you tread on

my dreams”

“It frightened him to think what must

have gone to the making of her eyes.”

“I wondered if that was how forgiveness

budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany,

but with pain gathering its things, packing

up, and slipping away unannounced in the

middle of the night.”

“One must be careful of books, and what

is inside them, for words have the power

to change us.”

“It does not do well to dwell on dreams

and forget to live, remember that.”

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against

peace, against hope, against happiness, against all

discouragement that could be.”

I wish it need not have happened in my time," said

Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see

such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we

have to decide is what to do with the time that is

given us.”

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

“Filled with rapture, his soul yearned for

freedom, space, vastness. Over him the

heavenly dome, full of quiet, shining stars,

hung boundlessly. From the zenith to the

horizon the still-dim Milky Way stretched its

double strand. Night, fresh and quiet, almost

unstirring, enveloped the earth. The white

towers and golden domes of the church

gleamed in the sapphire sky. The luxuriant

autumn asleep till morning. The silence of

the earth seemed to merge with the silence

of the heavens and the mystery of the earth

touched the mystery of the stars.”

“We loved with a love that was more than

love.”

Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fast, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.

“It had flaws, but what does that matter

when it comes to matters of the heart? We

love what we love. Reason does not enter

into it. In many ways, unwise love is the

truest love. Anyone can love a thing

because. That’s as easy as putting a penny

in your pocket. But to love something

despite. To know the flaws and love them

too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”

“And now here is my secret, a very simple

secret: It is only with the heart that one can

see rightly; what is essential is invisible to

the eye.” The Little Prince

“Not all those who wander are lost.” - J.R.R.

Tolkien

“the only people for me are the mad ones,

the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk,

mad to be saved, desirous of everything at

the same time, the ones who never yawn or

say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn,

burn like fabulous yellow roman candles

exploding like spiders across the stars.”

“What we love in our books are the depths

of many marvelous moments seen all at one

time”

Teller, teller, tell me a tale

of love and fear and duty,

I want to die in the arms of love

I want to die for beauty,

For beauty is the only truth

and death the only lie,

I want to sing a final tale

and love before I die

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.

And in that moment, I swear we were

infinite

Whatever our souls are made of, his

and mine are the same.

He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

“And neither the Angels in Heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea, Can

ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the

beautiful Annabel Lee … .

“Deep in earth my love is lying, and I must

weep alone.”

Forgetfulness heals everything and song is the

most beautiful manner of forgetting, for in

song man feels only what he loves.”

“Zaborav sve leči, a pesma je najlepši način

zaborava, jer u pesmi se čovek seća samo

onoga što voli.”

“They entered there into the unconscious

philosophy of the town; that life was an

incomprehensible marvel, since it was

incessantly wasted and spent, yet none the

less it lasted and endured 'like the bridge on

the Drina'.”

“Tako se na kapiji, između neba, reke i brda,

naraštaj za naraštajem učio da ne žali preko

mere ono što mutna voda odnese. Tu je u njih

ulazila nesvesna filozofija kasabe: da je život

neshvatljivo čudo, jer se neprestano troši i

osipa, a ipak traje i stoji čvrsto "kao na Drini

ćuprija".”

“All halls lead somewhere. Where there is a

way in, there is a way out. Fear cuts deeper

than swords.”

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes”

“Never forget what you are, for surely the

world will not. Make it your strength, then it

can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in

it and it can never be used to hurt you.”

“You want to know the horrible truth ?

I cant even remember what she looked like! I

only know she was the one thing I ever

wanted..and 7 kingdoms couldnt fill the hole

she left behind

Njen brat Regar je umro zbog žene koju je

voleo.

"Can a man still be brave when he's afraid?"

"That's the only time a man can be brave."

Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are

given a chance to climb, but they refuse. They cling to the realm, or the Gods or love... illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is “Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

“And who are you, the proud Lord said

that I must bow so low?

Only a cat of a different coat,

that's all the truth I know.

In a coat of gold or a coat of red,

a lion still has claws.

And, mine are as long and sharp, my Lord

as long and sharp as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,

that Lord of Castamere,

but now the rains weep o'er his hall,

with no one there to hear.

Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall,

and not a soul to hear.”

The things we love destroy us every time, lad.

Remember that.”

“What is honor compared to a woman's love?

What is duty against the feel of a newborn son

in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's

smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We

are only human, and the gods have fashioned

us for love. That is our great glory, and our

great tragedy.”

“And I have a tender spot in my heart for

cripples and bastards and broken things.”

“Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and

thousands died for it.”

“I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to

her.” “You did,” Ned reminded him. “Only

once,” Robert said bitterly.

Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest

of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in

the water and with his last breath murmured a

woman's name.

In my dreams, I kill him every night. A

thousand deaths will still be less than he

deserves.

If you think this has a happy ending, you

haven’t been paying attention

Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You

killed her children. You raped her! You murdered

her! You killed her children!

'Tis a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and

die in the same corner where we were born and

never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most

of us.

"Goodbye, my friend,

goodbye"

Goodbye, my friend, goodbye

My love, you are in my heart.

It was preordained we should part

And be reunited by and by.

Goodbye: no handshake to endure.

Let's have no sadness — furrowed brow.

There's nothing new in dying now

Though living is no newer.

Original in Russian:

До свиданья, друг мой, до свиданья.

Милый мой, ты у меня в груди.

Предназначенное расставанье Обещает

встречу впереди.

До свиданья, друг мой, без руки, без

слова, Не грусти и не печаль бровей,- В

этой жизни умирать не ново, Но и

жить, конечно, не новей.

Жди меня, и я вернусь.

Только очень жди,

Жди, когда наводят грусть

Желтые дожди,

Жди, когда снега метут,

Жди, когда жара,

Жди, когда других не ждут,

Позабыв вчера.

Жди, когда из дальних мест

Писем не придет,

Жди, когда уж надоест

Всем, кто вместе ждет.

Жди меня, и я вернусь,

Не желай добра

Всем, кто знает наизусть,

Что забыть пора.

Пусть поверят сын и мать

В то, что нет меня,

Пусть друзья устанут ждать,

Сядут у огня,

Выпьют горькое вино

На помин души...

Жди. И с ними заодно

Выпить не спеши.

Жди меня, и я вернусь,

Всем смертям назло.

Кто не ждал меня, тот пусть

Скажет:- Повезло.-

Не понять не ждавшим им,

Как среди огня

Ожиданием своим

Ты спасла меня.

Как я выжил, будем знать

Только мы с тобой,-

Просто ты умела ждать,

Как никто другой.

Ты можешь ничего не говорить,

Не мучаться, не каяться, не ждать.

Ты можешь окончательно забыть

И никогда меня не вспоминать.

Ты можешь не сжимать до боли руки,

Не прижимать меня к своей груди,

Не сетовать на долгие разлуки

И не гадать, что будет впереди.

Ты можешь быть смешным и суеверным,

Курить от скуки, жадно пить вино.

Ты можешь быть гулящим и неверным,

Но я с тобой останусь все равно.

Ты можешь не играть своей судьбою,

Не звать меня в дорогу за собой.

Ты можешь не узнать, что лишь тобою

Жила я до минуты гробовой.

Ты можешь не дарить мне обещаний,

Не уверять, что я навек твоя.

Ты можешь не искать со мной свиданий

Да и не помнить вовсе про меня.

Ты можешь быть отвергнутым,

презренным,

Я не устану никогда любить.

Ты можешь быть гулящим и неверным,

Ты можешь ничего не говорить.

I know why the caged bird sings

The free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wings

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with fearful trill

of the things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the

sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-

bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of

dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.