emotka

EXOTIC PERFUME        by: Charles Baudelaire        HEN with closed eyes in autumn's eves of gold        I breathe the burning odours of your breast,        Before my eyes the hills of happy rest        Bathed in the sun's monotonous fires, unfold.        Islands of Lethe where exotic boughs        Bend with their burden of strange fruit bowed down,        Where men are upright, maids have never grown        Unkind, but bear a light upon their brows.        Led by that perfume to these lands of ease,        I see a port where many ships have flown        With sails outwearied of the wandering seas;        While the f

The ABCs Abecadło (by Julian Tuwim) The ABCs fell off the mantelpiece, Slammed against the ground, They scattered into all four corners, And shattered all around: I—misplaced its dot, H—is strangely squat, B—bruised its belly, A—'s legs turned to jelly, O—popped like a balloon, causing P to swoon, T—lost its hat, L—jumped into U, just like that, S—straightened out, R—broken right leg no doubt, W—is head-over-heels, discovering exactly how M feels.

Beauty Conceive me as a dream of stone: my breast, where mortals come to grief, is made to prompt all poets' love, mute and noble as matter itself. With snow for flesh, with ice for heart, I sit on high, an unguessed sphinx begrudging acts that alter forms; I never laugh, I never weep. In studious awe the poets brood before my monumental pose aped from the proudest pedestal, and to bind these docile lovers fast I freeze the world in a perfect mirror: The timeless light of my wide eyes.