Записи с темой: pre-raphaelite brotherhood (список заголовков)

Christina Rossetti

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago!

@темы: pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british, r, victorian, 19


Carl Sandburg
Chicago Poems. 1916
76. Salvage

Guns on the battle lines have pounded now a year between Brussels and Paris.
And, William Morris, when I read your old chapter on the great arches and naves and little whimsical corners of the Churches of Northern France—Brr-rr!
I’m glad you’re a dead man, William Morris, I’m glad you’re down in the damp and mouldy, only a memory instead of a living man—I’m glad you’re gone.
You never lied to us, William Morris, you loved the shape of those stones piled and carved for you to dream over and wonder because workmen got joy of life into them,
Workmen in aprons singing while they hammered, and praying, and putting their songs and prayers into the walls and roofs, the bastions and cornerstones and gargoyles—all their children and kisses of women and wheat and roses growing.
I say, William Morris, I’m glad you’re gone, I’m glad you’re a dead man.
Guns on the battle lines have pounded a year now between Brussels and Paris.

@темы: sandburg, carl, s, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, m, english-british, english-american, 20, 19


Christina Rossetti
Lady Montrevor

I do not look for love that is a dream—
I only seek for courage to be still;
To bear my grief with an unbending will,
And when I am a-weary not to seem.
Let the round world roll on; let the sun beam;
Let the wind blow, and let the rivers fill
The everlasting sea, and on the hill
The palms almost touch heaven, as children deem.
And, though young spring and summer pass away,
And autumn and cold winter come again,
And though my soul, being tired of its pain,
Pass from the ancient earth, and though my clay
Return to dust, my tongue shall not complain;—
No mean shall mock me after this my day.

@темы: 19, english-british, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, r, victorian


Christina Rossetti under her pseudonym Ellen Alleyn
An End

Love, strong as Death, is dead.
Come, let us make his bed
Among the dying flowers:
A green turf at his head;
And a stone at his feet,
Whereon we may sit
In the quiet evening hours.

He was born in the Spring,
And died before the harvesting:
On the last warm summer day
He left us; he would not stay
For Autumn twilight cold and grey.
Sit we by his grave, and sing
He is gone away.

To few chords and sad and low
Sing we so:
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
Shadow-veiled as the years pass
While we think of all that was
In the long ago.

@темы: victorian, r, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british, a, 19


Christina Rossetti
A Triad

Three sang of love together: one with lips
Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in a glow,
Flushed to the yellow hair and finger tips;
And one there sang who soft and smooth as snow
Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at a show;
And one was blue with famine after love,
Who like a harpstring snapped rang harsh and low
The burden of what those were singing of.
One shamed herself in love; one temperately
Grew gross in soulless love, a sluggish wife;
One famished died for love. Thus two of three
Took death for love and won him after strife;
One droned in sweetness like a fattened bee:
All on the threshold, yet all short of life.

@темы: victorian, r, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british, 19


Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sonnet LXXXIII: Barren Spring

Once more the changed year's turning wheel returns:
And as a girl sails balanced in the wind,
And now before and now again behind
Stoops as it swoops, with cheek that laughs and burns,—
So Spring comes merry towards me here, but earns
No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd
With the dead boughs that winter still must bind,
And whom to-day the Spring no more concerns.
Behold, this crocus is a withering flame;
This snowdrop, snow; this apple-blossom's part
To breed the fruit that breeds the serpent's art.
Nay, for these Spring-flowers, turn thy face from them,
Nor stay till on the year's last lily-stem
The white cup shrivels round the golden heart.

Данте Габриэль Россетти
Бесплодная весна

Кружится быстро колесо времен;
И словно девочка на карусели,
Вся устремясь к какой-то дивной цели,
Летит, смеясь, — и ветер ей вдогон! —
Весна мне мчит навстречу; но, смущен,
Молчу в ответ; томят мой дух метели
Прошедших зим, и мне не до веселий —
Остыла кровь среди замерзших крон.
Взгляни: пророчит ландыш о снегах,
Цвет яблоневый, нежно оробелый, —
О Змие, что погубит плод созрелый.
Не радуйся же лилиям в лугах,
Не жди, когда рассыплется во прах
Вкруг сердца золотого венчик белый.

пер. Гр. Кружков

@темы: р (rus), к (rus), и/й, sonnet, r, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, kruzhkov, grigory, english-british, 19


William Morris (1834–96)
The Blue Closet

The Damozels

Lady Alice, Lady Louise,
Between the wash of the tumbling seas
We are ready to sing, if so ye please:
So lay your long hands on the keys;
Sing “Laudate pueri.”

And ever the great bell overhead
Boom’d in the wind a knell for the dead,
Though no one toll’d it, a knell for the dead.

Lady Louise

Sister, let the measure swell
Not too loud; for you sing not well
If you drown the faint boom of the bell;
He is weary, so am I.

And ever the chevron overhead
Flapp’d on the banner of the dead;
(Was he asleep, or was he dead?)

Lady Alice

Alice the Queen, and Louise the Queen,
Two damozels wearing purple and green,
Four lone ladies dwelling here
From day to day and year to year:
And there is none to let us go;
To break the locks of the doors below,
Or shovel away the heap’d-up snow;
And when we die no man will know
That we are dead; but they give us leave,
Once every year on Christmas-eve,
To sing in the Closet Blue one song:
And we should be so long, so long,
If we dar’d, in singing; for, dream on dream,
They float on in a happy stream;
Float from the gold strings, float from the keys,
Float from the open’d lips of Louise:
But, alas! the sea-salt oozes through
The chinks of the tiles of the Closet Blue;
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The Blue Closet - Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1856-57. The painting was the inspiration for Morris's splendid and equally strange poem of the same title, published in 1857 in his The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems volume. Morris had finished his poem in mid-December 1856

@темы: pittura, m, english-british, art, 19, pre-raphaelite brotherhood


Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sudden Light

I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,-
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
You neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,- I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?
And shall to thus time’s eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death’s despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?

@темы: p, english-british, 19, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, r


Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

@темы: victorian, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british, 19, р (rus)


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)

Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Is the moon tired? she looks so pale
Within her misty veil:
She scales the sky from east to west,
And takes no rest.
Before the coming of the night
The moon shows papery white;
Before the dawning of the day
She fades away.

Theatres des Vampires - Moonlight Waltz (Moonlight Waltz, 2011)

@темы: youtube, victorian, romanticism, r, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, music, english-british, 21


Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Match With The Moon

Weary already, weary miles to-night
I walked for bed: and so, to get some ease,
I dogged the flying moon with similes.
And like a wisp she doubled on my sight
In ponds; and caught in tree-tops like a kite;
And in a globe of film all liquorish
Swam full-faced like a silly silver fish;—
Last like a bubble shot the welkin's height
Where my road turned, and got behind me, and sent
My wizened shadow craning round at me,
And jeered, “So, step the measure,—one two three!”
And if I faced on her, looked innocent.
But just at parting, halfway down a dell,
She kissed me for good-night. So you'll not tell.

@темы: victorian, romanticism, r, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british, 19


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
11.01.2013 в 13:48
Пишет Lika_k:

Лента напомнила о "La belle dame sans merci" Китса. И раз уж все известные картинки там уж показаны, я вспомню о музыке.

Редкий случай, когда мне нравится исполнение в переводе, но у Сильвестрова, по-моему, отличная песня получилась:
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Ну и Стэнфорд с Бо)
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URL записи

@темы: victorian, russian, romanticism, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, poetry, music, links, lied, k (rus), english-british, 20, 19, youtube


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Dead Love

“Oh never weep for love that’s dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Then harbour no smile on your bonny face
To win the deepest sigh.
The fairest words on truest lips
Pass on and surely die,
And you will stand alone, my dear,
When wintry winds draw nigh.

Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,
For this God has not given.
If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.”

Dante Gabriel Rossetti - Beata Beatrix c.1864-70

@темы: victorian, s, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, pittura, english-british, art, 19

Pure Poetry