Visar inlägg med etikett W B Yeats. Visa alla inlägg
Visar inlägg med etikett W B Yeats. Visa alla inlägg

måndag 10 december 2012

Ljus i mörkret

Det kom en liten läcker bok med posten. Collected Poems av W. B. Yeats. Collctor´s Library.
Med introduktion, diktregister och förstaradsregister och en bifogad länk som kan bli farlig:
Den lilla läckerheten är försedd med guldsnitt dessutom och ligger så hemmastadd i handen. Ett smakprov:

Men Improve with the Years 

I am worn out with dreams;
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams;
And all day long I look
Upon this lady´s beauty
As though I had found in a book
a pictured beauty,
Pleased to have filled the eyes
Or the discerning ears,
Delighted to be but wise,
For men improve with the years;
And yet, and yet,
Is this my dream, or the truth?
O would that we had met
When I had my burning youth!
But I grow old among dreams,
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams

Läs mer:
W B Yeats gjorde guld av vardagens dy

Yeats dikting bytte riktning efter 50 - årskris

Yeats hämtade kraft i erotiken och det ockulta

tre fylliga understreckare av Carl - Johan Malmberg

torsdag 27 oktober 2011

En dikt och en gentleman

Wandering Angus (Golden Apples of the Sun)

I went out to the hazelwood
Because a fire was in my head
Cut and peeled a hazel wand
And hooked a berry to a thread

And when white moths were on the wing
And moth-like stars were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
And gone to blow the fire aflame
Something rustled on the floor
And someone called me by my name.

It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossoms in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And vanished in the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And kiss her lips and take her hand

And walk through long green dappled grass
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon
The golden apples of the sun.

William Butler Yeates (1865 - 1939)
HÖR när Stréphane Hessel läser Yeats i Babel!

Bilden är lånad.