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When you are in a room and your job is to write jokes 10 hours a day, your mind starts going to strange places.

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When You Are Touching Me Softly..

when you are touching me softly
with your closed eyes drenched in love
o my love, you are touching my soul
deeply inset in your heart!

-s.chandra kalaadhar

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When you are no more

In the broken orange fire
I felt an empty loneliness
A stretch beyond known land
In my thought your warm hand
Your odor drifting away
‘I love you’ was all I could say!
My love was never in doubt
Time could not wear it out
Not even the darkness
Conspired by night
Could erase your face
Take it beyond sight!
Now on the empty shore
The waves break and moan
On the shifting sands
I am alone
With you when you are no more!

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When You Are Done Feeding Yourself On Lies

You have repeatedly shown,
You have no regard for me.
One day when your eyes have cleared,
You will acknowledge how much of your life
I have nourished.
And my contributions to your survival,
You have despised...
Will be freed from your deceptions.
And your ability to slander...
Is chased away by remorse and honesty.
When you are done feeding yourself on lies...
Only then will you begin to respect my worth!
With a polishing done to your own.

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When You Are With Me

When you are with me,
time has no capacity to schedule us.
When kisses fall like rain,
there is no pain, no sorrow
and only joy
with no way to time it.

Even in this winter of my despair
where age is catching up with me,
where life bangs me down to the ground,
nothing of this world is around
when your eyes form new worlds
which I in their beauty see.

The blowing leaves, the icy breeze
all passes me, while the summer of your smile
falls with life on my heart.

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William Butler Yeats

When You Are Old

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.

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When You Are Old

When you are old and tired and gray
Wear you overcoat on sunny days
When your brave tales have all been told
Ill ask for them when you are old
When you are old and full of sleep
And death no longer makes you weep
When your body aches with cold
Ill warm your heart when you are old
Youll still be the same to me
A comfort and a mystery
And I will be old too you see
Ill need someone to comfort me
When you are old and pale and gone
A gentle hand is all you want
I will give you mine to hold
And Ill be here when you are old
Yes I will give you mine to hold
And Ill be here when you are old

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When You Are Gone

When you are gone I will live on

I will live on

When you are gone

I will not mourn or forget

How love was born

Much stronger still

Though you are gone

You still live on

In birds in clouds

In simple flowers

In bones and flesh

That carry you

Each day, each hour

And this is your power

Though you are gone

Much stronger now

You still live on

In words that echo in the air

In scent of showers

Fallen leaves

In all of these

And feeling sense

You presence, felt in present tense

I will not mourn

Nor wil I grieve

For you live on

Inside of me

yvette m smith sept 08

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When You Are Old

When you are old, and I am passed away –
Passed, and your face, your golden face is gray –
I think, what’er the end, this dream of mine,
Comforting you, a friendly star will shine
Down the dim slope where you still stumble and stray.
So may it be: that so dead yesterday,
Not sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay,
May serve your memories like almighty wine,
When you are old!

Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the sway
Of death the past’s enormous disarray
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and divine
Love shall still tend you, as God’s angels may,
When you are old.

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When You are in love

when you are in love care it,
cause once in your lifetime you can find it.

when you are in love protect it from horrible storms,
because they may take it away beyond the hills.

when you are in love hold it and tenderly care it.
like a mother that cares for her child.
cause the love needs care to grow more and more every single day.

when you are in love hold it like a very valuable diamond in your hands.
and never let it slips among of your fingers.
cause love is the most valuable thing that we ever have.

when you are in love don't loose it fight forit.
cause the love is more precious then any wealth.
the life is so empty place when you are not in love.

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When You Are In Love

When you are in love,
you walk with harmony
through an enchanted land.
The world and its misery
never seem to pass before your eyes
only the sunshine dawn
of every passing day.
An inner glow keeps you warm
during the coldest day
and you are protected
from any harm that may come your way.
When you are in love,
green fields stretch forever
to greet the dawning sun.
Golden beaches hold no footprints
except those you make together
as the waves rush to greet you
as you walk along the shore.
When you are in love,
the world is at peace with you
and no conflict ever passes your eyes,
only golden moments
to last for eternity.
When you are in love
this is all that you will see.

31 January 2009

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What to say when you are hurt

Do they hurt you today?
In your mind? In your heart?
What is the color of this blood
Flowing from your mind
This bleeding heart
Because they hurt you again
She slapped you he kicked you
And they insulted you
You knelt for mercy
They laughed and they left
You alone in your pains
Do not clench your hands to
Form these fists
Do not let your heart be
Conquered by anger
Do not let your mind be poisoned
By the thoughts of revenge
What did God tell you when you are hurt?
Forgive them for they do not know
What they are doing.
Do you remember that? Do you understand that?
Now you must stand and be counted.
You have the name, you are God’s child.
You have something again to tell him
Why not? Now rest your head on his arms.

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Just Tell Me When You Are Ready

I know.
I know.
You have gone out of your way,
To disrespect my efforts.
With a discrediting of my abilities.
And 'still' you feel you have failed.

Come on!
Pull yourself together.
Would it help you at all,
If I revealed I've been aware of this...
From the very beginning.
And I was trained to keep my eye,
On people like you?

'You have? '

Yes, of course.
Now...
Here is what you do.
Do you see those obstacles over there?

'Yes! '

I have yet to approach them.
I will turn around and close my eyes.
And you put them on my path!

'You promise not to look? '

Oh,
I wont.
I operate on faith alone!
Go ahead.
I'll count to ten!
1-2-3...

'Could you go a bit slower? '

Sure...
No problem.
Just tell me when you are ready.

'Okay.
And don't peek.'

Believe me...
I wont!

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When you are very old...

translation of a famous sonnet by Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585)
from Sonnets for Hélène

When you are very old, at evening, by the fire,
spinning wool by candlelight and winding it in skeins,
you will say in wonderment as you recite my lines:
'Ronsard admired me in the days when I was fair.'

Then not one of your servants dozing gently there
hearing my name's cadence break through your low repines
but will start into wakefulness out of her dreams
and bless your name - immortalised by my desire.

I'll be underneath the ground, and a boneless shade
taking my long rest in the scented myrtle-glade,
and you'll be an old woman, nodding towards life's close,

regretting my love, and regretting your disdain.
Heed me, and live for now: this time won't come again.
Come, pluck now - today - life's so quickly-fading rose.

(translation by Anthony Weir)

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You Are Not the Loyal and Devoted Kind

Did you think I would chase?
And you were worthy of that adventure?
Or
Did you think I would wait?
For my telephone to ring...
Anticipating a call from you?
Pacing the floor,
Wondering our fate.
Did you believe the love I have...
Would not exist if not for you?
When I said I loved you...
I do and that was true.
I did not propose marriage,
To say I do's.
But I am glad you are confirming,
Your feelings for me.
I'm just someone you enjoy the act of sex.
But having a relationship...
Scares you half the death.
Don't worry,
I wont pressure you.
And when you hear me say,
I love you, again...
Remember
It's not to entrap...
I don't want a pet.
Or a monkey on my back.
I want someone near...
Who wishes to share and not fear.
And you have made it clear...
You are not the loyal and devoted kind!
And I am,
Persistent!
I don't give up something good,
So easy!
I have revamped my training methods.

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When you are Old

Sonnet XXXII

Should you survive the number of my days,
Attest to buried bones and grounded hope,
Nervous, by chance, perhaps this book you'll ope,
Grave hand re-reading, when fast passed my ways.
Tender friend recall our comet blaze,
Openly with instinct's gyroscope
Mark, nurture, sight and sound, bright chromascope,
Able to distill implicit ph[r]ase.
Methinks fond thoughts might share this paraphrase:
“As rainbow bridge strips off coarse envelope
Underdeveloped were poor poet’s plays -
Death forced him far too early to elope.
E’er since he died, have other poets flourished.
Competent their works, I’ll read his, who love nourished.”

[c] Jonathan Robin

Shakespeare Sonnet XXXII
(cf Ronsard: When you are old and grey)


If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shall by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rime,
Exceeded by the heights of happier men.
O! then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'?

Quand vous serez bien vieille

Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant:
'Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j'étais belle.'

Lors vous n'aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle,
Déjà sous le labeur à demi sommeillant,
Qui au bruit de Ronsard ne s'aille réveillant,
Bénissant votre nom de louange immortelle.

Je serai sous la terre, et fantôme sans os,
Par les ombres myrteux je prendrai mon repos;
Vous serez au foyer une vieille accroupie,

Regrettant mon amour et votre fier dédain.
Vivez, si m'en croyez, n'attendez à demain;
Cueillez dès aujourd'hui les rose de la vie.


Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 – 1578


RONSARD Pierre de 1524_1585 rons1_0014_rons1_0000 PFS_DLZ Quand vous serez bien vielle_Quand vous serez bien vielle

RONSARD Pierre de 1524_1585 rons1_0014_FRANC_0000 PFS_DLZ
Quand vous serez bien vielle_Quand vous serez bien vielle


When you are very old...”

When you are very old, at evening, by the fire,
spinning wool by candlelight and winding it in skeins,
you will say in wonderment as you recite my lines:
“Ronsard admired me in the days when I was fair.”

Then not one of your servants dozing gently there
hearing my name’s cadence break through your low repines
but will start into wakefulness out of her dreams
and bless your name — immortalised by my desire.

I’ll be underneath the ground, and a boneless shade
taking my long rest in the scented myrtle-glade,
and you’ll be an old woman, nodding towards life’s close,

regretting my love, and regretting your disdain.
Heed me, and live for now: this time won’t come again.
Come, pluck now — today — life’s so quickly-fading rose.


Tide and Undertow Anthony WEIR Belfast 1975
Parody Translation Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 1578 Quand vous serez bien vielle
and William Butler YEATS – To His Book


WEIR Anthony 19_20 weir1_0001_wear1_0000 PST_LZX When you are very old_When you are very old at even by the fire

WEIR Anthony 19_20 weir1_0001_yeat1_0000 PST_LZX When you are very old_When you are very old at even by the fire

WEIR Anthony 19_20 weir1_0001_rons1_0014 PST_LZX When you are very old_When you are very old at even by the fire



When You are Old

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 mountain overhead
And his his face amid a crowd of stars.


William Butler YEATS 1893 - The Rose
Parody Translation Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 1578 Quand vous serez bien vielle

YEATS William Butler 1865_1939 yeat1_0011_yeat1_0000 PTX_DLZ When you are old_When you are old and gray and full of sleep

YEATS William Butler 1865_1939 yeat1_0011_rons1_0014 PTX_DLZ When you are old_When you are old and gray and full of sleep


Candlelight Blues


When yore gitten old at candlelight
Sittin’ at the fire gonna spin all night,
You’ll say sorta marvelin’ as y’sing my song,
“Good old Ronsard sang when Ah was young.”

Then y’won’t have a maid what hears that soun’,
Jist about t’fall asleep an’ all tired down,
Who ain’t gonna wake when she hears ma name
An’ start praisin’ yore name of immortal fame.

Ah’ll be six foot under, no skeleton,
‘Neath the myrtle groves is where my soul will run;

You’ll be dreamin’ at the hearth in a messy ole way,
Sorry you was proud, now Ah’ve gone away.

Better saddle up yore horse, don’t wait all night,
Pick yore roses today, then you’ll be all right.

G. R. TEJADA-FLORES,1961
Parody Translation Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 1578 Quand vous serez bien vielle


TEJADA-FLORES G. R.19_20 teja1_0001_teja1_0000 PST_LZX Candlelight Blues_When yore gitten old at candlelight

TEJADA-FLORES G. R.19_20 teja1_0001_rons1_0014 PST_LZX Candlelight Blues_When yore gitten old at candlelight

When You are Old


Quand vous serez past it, au soir, un triste weekend,
Assise auprès du box with knitting and teapot,
Say, kid, chantant mes vers, my God, that man was hot!
Ron était stuck on me quand my face was mon friend.

Pauvr’old bag, quelle façon d’arriver à your end,
Dozant par le TV en watchant Golden Shot!
N’assumez pas, ma chère, que déjà that’s your lot –
Comme Ronnie’s has-been poule you’re always dans le trend.

Puis quand j’ai snuffed it, sqweet, vous serez rien du tout.
Alors, écoutez-moi très bien, vous silly moo;
Ne turne me down pas now – trop soon vous trouverez

Qu’on a toujours besoin d’un tel terrific chap,
Un super-poet, qui vous met bien sur le map;
Les roses de Ron son best – so cueillez while you may.


Alison PRINCE 1931_20
Parody Translation Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 1578 Quand vous serez bien vielle

PRINCE Alison 1931_20 prin1_0001_prin1_0000 PSW_LZW When you are Old_Quand vous serez past it, au soir, un triste weekend

PRINCE Alison 1931_20 prin1_0001_FRANC_0000 PSW_LZW When you are Old_Quand vous serez past it, au soir, un triste weekend

PRINCE Alison 1931_20 prin1_0001_rons1_0014 PSW_LZW When you are Old_Quand vous serez past it, au soir, un triste weekend

Quand vous serez bien vieille

When you are old, one night while candles flare,
Spinning before the fire you’ll sit and say,
Speaking my lines and wondering in your way:
‘Once Ronsard praised me: I was young and fair.’
If any maid should hear you, though her share
Of the day’s work like sleep upon her lay,
Ronsard’s renown would wake her, she would pray
A benediction on your name: her prayer

I shall not hear; buried, a boneless ghost,
At peace I’ll be among the myrtled host;
Muddled about the fire you still will stay,
Feeling remorse at heart for your disdain.
Let’s live, my love; to-morrow waits in vain!
Gather the roses of life; begin today!


Author Unknown 0182 Parody Translation Pierre de RONSARD 1525_1584
Sonnets pour Hélène, II,43 1578 Quand vous serez bien vielle


Author Unknown 0182 AuUnM_0182_AuUnM_0000 TSX_LZX Quand Vous serez bien Vieille_When you are old, one night

Author Unknown 0182 AuUnM_0182_rons1_0014 TSX_LZX Quand Vous serez bien Vieille_When you are old, one night

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When You Are Gone

it is only
when you are gone
when you
cannot be reached
anymore
that they begin
to know
your presence
as an
irony

a field of absence
they now think of you as the wind.

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When You Are Lost You Are Not Alone

the tension lies in isolation
when you take things all alone
and there is no knowing that out there
when you are lost
and so preoccupied with the fear of being lost

with a little light
even a flicker
you could have seen a hundred or more
faces looking for themselves
you could have known
that there are too many of us

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When You Are Gone I Must Survive

when you are gone
i must find a way to find myself
another way
another way of looking at
an old house
another style of opening
the same door

shaping my lips to utter
the same word
in a manner
that despite the pain
another lovely poem
must be written

i shall wake at a different
time and open the window
that you used to open for me
i will look for the stars again
on a brighter flicker
on a sweeter twinkle

i must survive
i am still alive

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Now you are both my friend and foe!

Now you are both my friend and foe!
Still leaving you is sweet sorrow!
Oops! You can change my tomorrow!

Still kissing you is a sweet dream
Though my love for you is extreme!
My thought goes wild like a blue-film!

Still your presence makes me love-sick
But our love-making’s chance is bleak!
I can’t read your mind; it’s all Greek!

You want to see tears on my cheek
So I am on love’s frozen peak
And my friend is a ganja’s stick!

Baby, make me believe in love.
Have you not hated me enough?
Please lock me up with love’s hand-cuff!

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When You Are On Top

when you are on top
you see a very tiny world below you

people are dusts
lands are patches of colors
roads mere lines

you realize how foolish you are
to believe that
it is the best place you
can ever have

you learn
to forgive the hazards of distances

you accept there is more to
land or colors
or pebbles

what strikes you most is the
dusty feeling
of humanity

the wind brings you
a layer of brownish softness in your skin

something lands in your
arm
but then you
dust it off

there is a hope that
you can finally understand
what is this
all about


time always makes
hushes in your hair
you comb
doubts with your
fingers

but your ears are stubborn
listening to
the noise in the moistened
lyrics of
their songs

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