Ποίηση: No Coward Soul is Mine | Emily Brontë

No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven’s glories shine
And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear
O God within my breast
Almighty ever-present Deity
Life, that in me hast rest,
As I Undying Life, have power in Thee
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain,
Worthless as withered weeds
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thy infinity,
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears
Though earth and moon were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And Thou wert left alone
Every Existence would exist in thee
There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void
Since thou art Being and Breath
And what thou art may never be destroyed.

Ποίηση: The Satin Dress | Dorothy Parker

Grace Kelly @ the 27th Academy Awards (1955)

Κάποιο απόγευμα του Νοέμβρη αποφάσισα να διαβάσω αποσπασματικά απ’ το βιβλίο The Portable Dorothy Parker. Εκεί που ξεφύλλιζα ανέμελα τις σελίδες του βιβλίου έπεσα πάνω στην ποίηση της. Και διαβάζοντας το The Satin Dress το μυαλό μου γέμισε εικόνες απ’ τις υπέροχες τουαλέτες που σχεδίασε την Χρυσή εποχή του Hollywood η Edith Head.

The Satin Dress

Needle, needle, dip and dart,
Thrusting up and down,
Where’s the man could ease a heart
Like a satin gown?

See the stitches curve and crawl
Round the cunning seams-
Patterns thin and sweet and small
As a lady’s dreams.

Wantons go in bright brocade;
Brides in organdie;
Gingham’s for the plighted maid;
Satin’s for the free!

Wool’s to line a miser’s chest;
Crepe’s to calm the old;
Velvet hides an empty breast
Satin’s for the bold!

Lawn is for a bishop’s yoke;
Linen’s for a nun;
Satin is for wiser folk-
Would the dress were done!

Satin glows in candlelight-
Satin’s for the proud!
They will say who watch at night,
«What a fine shroud!»

Sonnet XXVII | Pablo Neruda

Marilyn Monroe photographed by Lawrence Schiller while filming “Something’s Got To Give”, 1962

Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:
You have moonlines, applepathways:
Naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked, you are blue as the night in Cuba;
You have vines and stars in your hair;
Naked, you are spacious and yellow
As summer in a golden church.

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails,
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
And you withdraw to the underground world,

as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again.

—   Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XXVII

p.s. Εδώ μπορείς να ακούσεις τον Sting να απαγγέλει το παραπάνω ποίημα.