Citatepedia^®.com

Bună.

Unde pot descărca XEvil gratis pe site-ul tău?
Am primit informații de la sprijinul dumneavoastră. XEvil este într-adevăr cel mai bun program de rezolvare captcha, dar am nevoie de cea mai recentă versiune a acestuia.

Mulțumesc.

quote by TracyUnams
Added by TracyUnamsML
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Tercius

Incipit Liber Quartus

Dicunt accidiam fore nutricem viciorum,
Torpet et in cunctis tarda que lenta bonis:
Que fieri possent hodie transfert piger in cras,
Furatoque prius ostia claudit equo.
Poscenti tardo negat emolumenta Cupido,
Set Venus in celeri ludit amore viri.

Upon the vices to procede
After the cause of mannes dede,
The ferste point of Slowthe I calle
Lachesce, and is the chief of alle,
And hath this propreliche of kinde,
To leven alle thing behinde.
Of that he mihte do now hier
He tarieth al the longe yer,
And everemore he seith, 'Tomorwe';
And so he wol his time borwe,
And wissheth after 'God me sende,'
That whan he weneth have an ende,
Thanne is he ferthest to beginne.
Thus bringth he many a meschief inne
Unwar, til that he be meschieved,
And may noght thanne be relieved.
And riht so nowther mor ne lesse
It stant of love and of lachesce:
Som time he slowtheth in a day
That he nevere after gete mai.
Now, Sone, as of this ilke thing,
If thou have eny knowleching,
That thou to love hast don er this,
Tell on. Mi goode fader, yis.
As of lachesce I am beknowe
That I mai stonde upon his rowe,
As I that am clad of his suite:
For whanne I thoghte mi poursuite
To make, and therto sette a day
To speke unto the swete May,
Lachesce bad abide yit,
And bar on hond it was no wit
Ne time forto speke as tho.
Thus with his tales to and fro
Mi time in tariinge he drowh:
Whan ther was time good ynowh,
He seide, 'An other time is bettre;
Thou schalt mowe senden hire a lettre,
And per cas wryte more plein
Than thou be Mowthe durstest sein.'

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Secundus

Incipit Liber Tercius

Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,
Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet.
Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo
Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet.
Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes,
Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit:
Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,
Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.

----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------

If thou the vices lest to knowe,
Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe,
Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde,
That ther nis on upon this grounde,
A vice forein fro the lawe,
Wherof that many a good felawe
Hath be distraght be sodein chance;
And yit to kinde no plesance
It doth, bot wher he most achieveth
His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth,
As he which out of conscience
Is enemy to pacience:
And is be name on of the Sevene,
Which ofte hath set this world unevene,
And cleped is the cruel Ire,
Whos herte is everemore on fyre
To speke amis and to do bothe,
For his servantz ben evere wrothe.
Mi goode fader, tell me this:
What thing is Ire? Sone, it is
That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote,
Which hath hise wordes ay so hote,
That all a mannes pacience
Is fyred of the violence.
For he with him hath evere fyve
Servantz that helpen him to stryve:
The ferst of hem Malencolie
Is cleped, which in compaignie
An hundred times in an houre
Wol as an angri beste loure,
And noman wot the cause why.
Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi:
Hast thou be Malencolien?
Ye, fader, be seint Julien,
Bot I untrewe wordes use,
I mai me noght therof excuse:
And al makth love, wel I wot,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quintus

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo
Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit.
Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------

The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.
And in the bokes as I finde,
This vice, which so out of rule
Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;
Of which the branches ben so grete,
That of hem alle I wol noght trete,
Bot only as touchende of tuo
I thenke speke and of no mo;
Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,
Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.
Ful many a wonder doth this vice,
He can make of a wisman nyce,
And of a fool, that him schal seme
That he can al the lawe deme,
And yiven every juggement
Which longeth to the firmament
Bothe of the sterre and of the mone;
And thus he makth a gret clerk sone
Of him that is a lewed man.
Ther is nothing which he ne can,
Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,
He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,
He is a noble man of armes,
And yit no strengthe is in his armes:
Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,
With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,
And al is changed his astat,
And wext anon so fieble and mat,
That he mai nouther go ne come,
Bot al togedre him is benome
The pouer bothe of hond and fot,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Primus

Incipit Liber Secundus

Inuidie culpa magis est attrita dolore,
Nam sua mens nullo tempore leta manet:
Quo gaudent alii, dolet ille, nec vnus amicus
Est, cui de puro comoda velle facit.
Proximitatis honor sua corda veretur, et omnis
Est sibi leticia sic aliena dolor.
Hoc etenim vicium quam sepe repugnat amanti,
Non sibi, set reliquis, dum fauet ipsa Venus.
Est amor ex proprio motu fantasticus, et que
Gaudia fert alius, credit obesse sibi.

Now after Pride the secounde
Ther is, which many a woful stounde
Towardes othre berth aboute
Withinne himself and noght withoute;
For in his thoght he brenneth evere,
Whan that he wot an other levere
Or more vertuous than he,
Which passeth him in his degre;
Therof he takth his maladie:
That vice is cleped hot Envie.
Forthi, my Sone, if it be so
Thou art or hast ben on of tho,
As forto speke in loves cas,
If evere yit thin herte was
Sek of an other mannes hele?
So god avance my querele,
Mi fader, ye, a thousend sithe:
Whanne I have sen an other blithe
Of love, and hadde a goodly chiere,
Ethna, which brenneth yer be yere,
Was thanne noght so hot as I
Of thilke Sor which prively
Min hertes thoght withinne brenneth.
The Schip which on the wawes renneth,
And is forstormed and forblowe,
Is noght more peined for a throwe
Than I am thanne, whanne I se
An other which that passeth me
In that fortune of loves yifte.
Bot, fader, this I telle in schrifte,
That is nowher bot in o place;
For who that lese or finde grace
In other stede, it mai noght grieve:
Bot this ye mai riht wel believe,
Toward mi ladi that I serve,
Thogh that I wiste forto sterve,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dar-Thula

ARGUMENT.

It may not be improper here to give the story which is the foundation of this poem, as it is handed down by tradition. Usnoth, lord of Etha, which is probably that part of Argyleshire which is near Loch Eta, an arm of the sea in Lorn, had three sons, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, by Slissáma, the daughter of Semo, and sister to the celebrated Cuthullin. The three brothers, when very young, were sent over to Ireland by their father, to learn the use of arms under their uncle Cuthullin, who made a great figure in that kingdom. They were just landed in Ulster, when the news of Cuthullin's death arrived. Nathos, though very young, took the command of Cuthullin's army, made head against Cairbar the usurper, and defeated him in several battles. Cairbar at last, having found means to murder Cormac, the lawful king, the army of Nathos shifted sides, and he himself was obliged to return into Ulster, in order to pass over into Scotland.

Dar-thula, the daughter of Colla, with whom Cairbar was in love, resided at that time in Seláma, a castle in Ulster. She saw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos; but a storm rising at sea, they were unfortunately driven back on that part of the coast of Ulster, where Cairbar was encamped with his army. The three brothers, after having defended themselves for some time with great bravery, were overpowered and slain, and the unfortunate Dar-thula killed herself upon the body of her beloved Nathos.

The poem opens, on the night preceding the death of the sons of Usnoth, and brings in, by way of episode, what passed before. it relates the death of Dar-thula differently from the common tradition. This account, is the most probable, as suicide seems to have been unknown in those early times, for no traces of it are found in the old poetry.

DAUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They brighten their dark-brown sides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the silent night? The stars are shamed in thy presence. They turn away their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou retire from thy course when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? Yes, they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail one night and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads: they who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the cloud, O wind! that the daughters of night may look forth; that the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in light!

Nathos is on the deep, and Althos, that beam of youth! Ardan is near his brothers. They move in the gloom of their course. The sons of Usnoth move in darkness, from the wrath of Cairbar of Erin. Who is that, dim by their side? The night has covered her beauty! Her hair sighs on ocean's wind. Her robe streams in dusky wreaths. She is like the fair spirit of heaven in the midst of the shadowy mist. Who is it but Dar-thula, the first of Erin's maids? She has fled from the love of Cairbar, with blue-shielded Nathos. But the winds deceive thee, O Dar-thula! They deny the woody Etha to thy sails. These are not the mountains of Nathos; nor is that the roar of his climbing waves. The halls of Cairbar are near: the towers of the foe lift their heads! Erin stretches its green head into the sea. Tura's bay receives the ship. Where have ye been, ye southern Winds, when the sons of my love were deceived? But ye have been sporting on the plains, pursuing the thistle's beard. O that ye had been rustling in the sails of Nathos, till the hills of Etha arose! till they arose in their clouds, and saw their returning chief! Long hast thou been absent, Nathos! the day of thy return is past!

But the land of strangers saw thee lovely! thou wast lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face was like the light of the morning. Thy hair like the raven's wing. Thy soul was generous and mild, like tho hour of the setting sun. Thy words were the gale of the reeds; the gliding stream of Lora! But when the rage of battle rose, thou wast a sea in a storm. The clang of thy arms was terrible: the host vanished at the sound of thy course. It was then Dar-thula beheld thee, from the top of her mossy tower; from the tower of Seláma, where her fathers dwelt.

"Lovely art thou, O stranger!" she said, for her trembling soul arose. "Fair art thou in thy battles, friend of the fallen Cormac! Why dost thou rush on in thy valor, youth of the ruddy look? Few are thy hands in fight against the dark-brown Cairbar! O that I might be freed from his love, that I might rejoice in the presence of Nathos! Blest are the rocks of Etha! they will behold his steps at the chase; they will see his white bosom, when the winds lift his flowing hair!" Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Seláma's mossy towers. But now the night is around thee. The winds have deceived thy sails- — the winds have deceived thy sails, Dar-thula! Their blustering sound is high. Cease a little while, O north wind! Let me hear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is lovely, Dar-thula, between the rustling blasts!

"Are these the rocks of Nathos?" she said, "this the roaring of his mountain streams? Comes that beam of light from Usnoth's nightly hall? The mist spreads around; the beam is feeble and distant far. But the light of Dar-thula's soul dwells in the chief of Etha! Son of the generous Usnoth, why that broken sigh? Are we in the land of strangers, chief of echoing Etha?"

"These are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, "nor this the roar of his stream. No light comes from Etha's hall, for they are distant far. We are in the land of strangers, in the land of cruel Cairbar. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula. Erin lifts here her hills. Go towards the north, Althos: be thy steps, Ardan, along the coast; that the foe may not come in darkness, and our hopes of Etha fail. I will go towards that mossy tower, to see who dwells about the beam. Rest, Dar-thula, on the shore! rest in peace, thou lovely light! the sword of Nathos is around thee, like the lightning of heaven!"

He went. She sat alone: she heard the roiling of the wave. The big tear is in her eye. She looks for returning Nathos. Her soul trembles at the bast. She turns her ear towards the tread of his feet. The tread of his feet is not heard. "Where art thou, son of my love! The roar of the blast is around me. Dark is the cloudy night. But Nathos does not return. What detains thee, chief of Etha? Have the foes met the hero in the strife of the night?"

He returned; but his face was dark. He had seen his departed friend! it was the wall of Tura. The ghost of Cuthullin stalked there alone; the sighing of his breast was frequent. The decayed flame of his eyes was terrible! His spear was a column of mist. The stars looked dim through his form. His voice was like hollow wind in a cave: his eye a light seen afar. He told the tale of grief. The soul of Nathos was sad, like the sun in the day of mist, when his face watery and dim.

"Why art thou sad, O Nathos!" said the lovely daughter of Colla. "Thou art a pillow of light to Dar-thula. The joy of her eyes is in Etha's chief. Where is my friend, but Nathos? My father, my brother is fallen! Silence dwells on Seláma. Sadness spreads on the blue streams of my land. My friends have fallen with Cormac. The mighty were slain in the battles of Erin. Hear, son of Usnoth! hear, O Nathos! my tale of grief.

"Evening darkened on the plain. The blue streams failed before mine eyes. The unfrequent blast came rustling in the tops of Seláma's groves. My seat was beneath a tree, on the walls of my fathers. Truthil past before my soul; the brother of my love: he that was absent in battle against the haughty Cairbar! Bending on his spear, the gray-haired Colla came. His downcast face is dark, and sorrow dwells in his soul. His sword is on the side of the hero; the helmet of his fathers on his head. The battle grows in his breast. He strives to hide the tear.

"'Dar-thula, my daughter,' he said, 'thou art the last of Colla's race! Truthil is fallen in battle. The chief of Seláma is no more! Cairbar comes, with his thousands, towards Seláma's walls. Colla will meet his pride, and revenge his son. But where shall I find thy safety, Dar-thula with the dark-brown hair! thou art lovely as the sunbeam of heaven, and thy friends are low!' 'Is the son of battle fallen?' I said, with a bursting sigh. 'Ceased the generous soul of Truthil to lighten through the field? My safety, Colla, is in that bow. I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar like the hart of the desert, father of fallen Truthil?'

"The face of age brightened with joy. The crowded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips of Colla trembled. His gray beard whistled in the blast. 'Thou art the sister of Truthil,' he said; 'thou burnest in the fire of his soul. Take, Dar-thula, take that spear, that brazen shield, that burnished helm; they are the spoils of a warrior, a son of early youth! When the light rises on Seláma, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar. But keep thou near the arm of Colla, beneath the shadow of my shield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once defend thee; but age is trembling On his hand. The strength of his arm has failed. His soul is darkened with grief.'

"We passed the night in sorrow. The light of morning rose. I shone in the arms of battle. The gray haired hero moved before. The sons of Seláma convened around the sounding shield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were gray. The youths had fallen with Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac. 'Friends of my youth,' said Colla, 'it was not thus you have seen me in arms. It was not thus I strode to battle when the great Confaden fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darkness of age comes like the mist of the desert. My shield is worn with years! my sword is fixed in its place! I said to my soul, Thy evening shall be calm; thy departure like a fading light. But the storm has returned. I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Seláma. I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Truthil! Thou answerest not from thy rushing blast. The soul of thy father is sad. But I will be sad no more! Cairbar or Colla must fall! I feel the returning strength of my arm. My heart leaps at the sound of war.'

"The hero drew his sword. The gleaming blades of his people rose. They moved along the plain. Their gray hair streamed in the wind. Cairbar sat at the feast, in the silent plain of Lena. He saw the coming of the heroes. He called his chiefs to war. Why should I tell to Nathos how the strife of battle grew? I have seen thee in the midst of thousands, like the beam of heaven's fire: it is beautiful, but terrible; the people fall in its dreadful course. The spear of Colla flew. He remembered the battles of his youth. An arrow came with its sound. It pierced the hero's side. He fell on his echoing shield. My soul started with fear. I stretched my buckler over him: but my heaving breast was seen! Cairbar came with his spear. He beheld Seláma's maid. Joy rose on his dark-brown Taco. He stayed his lifted steel. He raised the tomb of Colla. He brought me weeping to Seláma. He spoke the words of love, but my soul was sad. I saw the shields of my fathers; the sword of car-borne Truthil. I saw the arms of the dead; the tear was on my cheek! Then thou didst come, O Nathos! and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghost of the desert before the morning's beam. His host was not near; and feeble was his arm against thy steel! Why art thou sad, O Nathos?" said the lovely daughter of Colla.

"I have met," replied the hero, "the battle in my youth. My arm could not lift the spear when danger first arose. My soul brightened in the presence of war, as the green narrow vale, when the sun pours his streamy beams, before he hides his head in a storm. The lonely traveller feels a mournful joy. He sees the darkness that slowly comes. My soul brightened in danger before I saw Seláma's fair; before I saw thee, like a star that shines on the hill at night; the cloud advances, and threatens the lovely light! We are in the land of foes. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula! The strength of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. Where shall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla! The brothers of Nathos are brave, and his own sword has shone in fight. But what are the sons of Usnoth to the host of dark-brown Cairbar! O that the winds had brought thy sails, Oscar king of men! Thou didst promise to come to the battles of fallen Cormac! Then would my hand be strong as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round the lovely Dar-thula. But why dost thou fall, my soul? The sons of Usnoth may prevail!"

"And they will prevail, O Nathos!" said the rising soul of the maid. "Never shall Dar-thula behold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me those arms of brass, that glitter to the passing meteor. I see them dimly in the dark-bosomed ship. Dar-thula will enter the battles of steel. Ghost of the noble Colla! do I behold thee on that cloud! Who is that dim beside thee? Is it the car-borne Truthil? Shall I behold the halls of him that slew Seláma's chief? No: I will not behold them, spirits of my love!"

Joy rose in the face of Nathos when he heard the white-bosomed maid. "Daughter of Seláma! thou shinest along my soul. Come, with thy thousands, Cairbar! the strength of Nathos is returned! Thou O aged Usnoth! shalt not hear that thy son has fled. I remembered thy words on Etha, when my sails began to rise: when I spread them towards Erin, towards the mossy walls of Tura! 'Thou goest,' he said, 'O Nathos, to the king of shields! Thou goest to Cuthullin, chief of men, who never fled from danger. Let not thine arm be feeble: neither be thy thoughts of flight; lest the son of Semo should say that Etha's race are weak. His words may come to Usnoth, and sadden his soul in the hall.' The tear was on my father's cheek. He gave this shining sword!

"I came to Tura's bay; but the halls of Tara were silent. I looked around, and there was none to tell of the son of generous Semo. I went to the hall of shells, where the arms of his fathers hung. But the arms were gone, and aged Lamhor sat in tears. 'Whence are the arms of steel?' said the rising Lamhor. 'The light of the spear has long been absent from Tura's dusky walls. Come ye from the rolling sea? or from Temora's mournful halls?'

"'We come from the sea,' I said, 'from Usnoth's rising towers. We are the sons of Slissáma, the daughter of car-borne Semo. Where is Tura's chief, son of the silent hall? But why should Nathos ask? for I behold thy tears. How did the mighty fall, son of the lonely Tura?' 'He fell not,' Lamhor replied, 'like the silent star of night, when it flies through darkness and is no more. But he was like a meteor that shoots into a distant land. Death attends its dreary course. Itself is the sign of wars. Mournful are the banks of Lego; and the roar of streamy Lara! There the hero fell, son of the noble Usnoth!' 'The hero fell in the midst of slaughter,' I said with a bursting sigh. 'His hand was strong in war. Death dimly sat behind his sword.'

"We came to Lego's sounding banks. We found his rising tomb. His friends in battle are there: his bards of many songs. Three days we mourned over the hero: on the fourth I struck the shield of Caithbat. The heroes gathered around with joy, and shook their beamy spears. Corlath was near with his host, the friend of car-borne Cairbar. We came like a stream by night. His heroes fell before us. When the people of the valley rose, they saw their blood with morning's light. But we rolled away, like wreaths of mist, to Cormac's echoing hall. Our swords rose to defend the king. But Temora's halls were empty. Cormac had fallen in his youth. The king of Erin was no more!

[...] Read more

poem by James Macpherson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Septimus

Incipit Liber Octavus

Que favet ad vicium vetus hec modo regula confert,
Nec novus e contra qui docet ordo placet.
Cecus amor dudum nondum sua lumina cepit,
Quo Venus impositum devia fallit iter.

------------------------------------ -----------------------------------------------
The myhti god, which unbegunne
Stant of himself and hath begunne
Alle othre thinges at his wille,
The hevene him liste to fulfille
Of alle joie, where as he
Sit inthronized in his See,
And hath hise Angles him to serve,
Suche as him liketh to preserve,
So that thei mowe noght forsueie:
Bot Lucifer he putte aweie,
With al the route apostazied
Of hem that ben to him allied,
Whiche out of hevene into the helle
From Angles into fendes felle;
Wher that ther is no joie of lyht,
Bot more derk than eny nyht
The peine schal ben endeles;
And yit of fyres natheles
Ther is plente, bot thei ben blake,
Wherof no syhte mai be take.
Thus whan the thinges ben befalle,
That Luciferes court was falle
Wher dedly Pride hem hath conveied,
Anon forthwith it was pourveied
Thurgh him which alle thinges may;
He made Adam the sexte day
In Paradis, and to his make
Him liketh Eve also to make,
And bad hem cresce and multiplie.
For of the mannes Progenie,
Which of the womman schal be bore,
The nombre of Angles which was lore,
Whan thei out fro the blisse felle,
He thoghte to restore, and felle
In hevene thilke holy place
Which stod tho voide upon his grace.
Bot as it is wel wiste and knowe,
Adam and Eve bot a throwe,
So as it scholde of hem betyde,
In Paradis at thilke tyde
Ne duelten, and the cause why,
Write in the bok of Genesi,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tu nu vei afla

Tu, cea pe care o iubesc cel mai mult dintre toate fetele din lumea asta mizerabila,
cea pentru care simt ceea ce nu am simtit niciodata pentru nimeni
tu nu ma iubesti pe mine, tu nu te gandesti la mine, si nu iti pasa de mine,
asa cum mie imi pasa de tine, asa cum eu te iubesc pe tine.
Inca te mai gasesc, dar nu pot sa te mai ating, sau sa te sarut.
Nu mai pot nici macar sa te iubesc in secret
cum o faceam inainte sa fim impreuna
nu mai am voie, pentru ca spre deosebire de atunci
acum, tu nu mai vrei ca eu sa te iubesc
sa te pretuiesc
sa-ti trimit mesaje
tu nu mai ai nevoie sa ma auzi rostind
acele cuvinte care pentru tine sunt atat de greu de rostit, sau simtit.
Tu nu crezi ca as fi putut
dar eu inca vreau
sa-mi ucid visele pentru tine,
sa plec oriunde, pentru a ramane cu tine
sa ard in iad pentru inca un sarut
acel sarut, care pentru tine nu mai inseamna nimic.
As vrea sa iti mai spun toate aceste lucruri,
dar o sa incerc sa nu o fac
sa nu fiu si mai ridicol in ochii tai (verzi) .

poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Prologus

Incipit Liber Primus

Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem
Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras:
Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur,
Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope.
Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas
Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas.
Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error,
Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum.

I may noght strecche up to the hevene
Min hand, ne setten al in evene
This world, which evere is in balance:
It stant noght in my sufficance
So grete thinges to compasse,
Bot I mot lete it overpasse
And treten upon othre thinges.
Forthi the Stile of my writinges
Fro this day forth I thenke change
And speke of thing is noght so strange,
Which every kinde hath upon honde,
And wherupon the world mot stonde,
And hath don sithen it began,
And schal whil ther is any man;
And that is love, of which I mene
To trete, as after schal be sene.
In which ther can noman him reule,
For loves lawe is out of reule,
That of tomoche or of tolite
Welnyh is every man to wyte,
And natheles ther is noman
In al this world so wys, that can
Of love tempre the mesure,
Bot as it falth in aventure:
For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe,
And he which elles wolde him yelpe
Is rathest throwen under fote,
Ther can no wiht therof do bote.
For yet was nevere such covine,
That couthe ordeine a medicine
To thing which god in lawe of kinde
Hath set, for ther may noman finde
The rihte salve of such a Sor.
It hath and schal ben everemor
That love is maister wher he wile,
Ther can no lif make other skile;
For wher as evere him lest to sette,
Ther is no myht which him may lette.
Bot what schal fallen ate laste,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Ballad Of Refreshment

The lady stood at the station bar,
(Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

For a weekly wage she was standing there,
(Three currants in a bun)
With a prominent bust and light gold hair.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

The express came in at half-past two,
(Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy blue.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

A stout sea-captain he was, I ween.
(Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

A sober man and steady was he.
(Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

'Now something to eat, for the train is late.'
(Three currants in a bun)
She brought him a bun on a greasy plate.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)

He left the bun, and he left the tea,
(Three currants in a bun)
She charged him a shilling and let him be,
And the train went on at a quarter to three.
(And the bun is old and weary.)

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Non Puoi Lasciarmi Cos (Quit Playing Games)

Guardo dentro me e so gi
cosa rester di noi
quello che vorrei sei tu
ma niente ti riporta qui.
Che cosa non farei per te
ma il tempo gioca contro me
quanto ti vorrei non sai oh no.
Non puoi lasciarmi cos, lo sai o no
(non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non puoi giocare cos con me
(non puoi giocare mai non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non farlo mai.
Ritornerai lo so
mi vedo gi vicino a te
dammi un segno che tu ci sei
io voglio immaginarti qui.
Che cosa non farei per te
ma il tempo gioca contro me
quanto ti vorrei non sai oh no.
... lo sai che.
Non puoi lasciarmi cos, lo sai o no
(non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non puoi giocare cos con me
(non puoi giocare mai non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non farlo mai.
Se ci credi c' ancora un domani per noi
possiamo ancora stare insieme.
Se ci tieni
star qui con te
sarai qui con me.
Ritornerai lo so
mi vedo gi vicino a te
dammi un segno che tu ci sei
io voglio immaginarti qui.
Che cosa non farei per te
ma il tempo gioca contro me
quanto ti vorrei non sai oh no.
Non puoi lasciarmi cos, lo sai o no
(non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non puoi giocare cos con me
(non puoi giocare mai non mi lasciare mai)
non puoi giocare cos non puoi lo sai non puoi.

song performed by Backstreet Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

După cum puteți vedea, XRumer + XEvil a rupt cu succes orice măsuri anti-bot pe site-ul dumneavoastră.
Oh, da, XEvil 4.0 poate rezolva Google ReCaptcha-2 prea. Fără nici o problemă - doar să verificați videoclipurile despre XEvil în YouTube.

Și puteți folosi XEvil pentru site-ul dvs.! Creșterea popularității și de a face bani, ca alți proprietari fericit XEvil ;)

Mult noroc!

quote by XEvilLooth
Added by XEvilLoothVQ
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

De ziua ta

Vino, si nu te teme a ma omori, iubito
nu mai mi-e frica de nimic, acum ca am pierdut aproape tot ce am castigat vreodata.
Nu te sfii, taie adanc si nu te juca,
infige cat poti de mult, in inima, si ai grija sa nu mai misc, atunci cand il scoti.
Nu, nu e nevoie sa ma legi, sau sa-mi pui perna peste gura
o sa fiu cumine, nu o sa plang, daca vrei pot chiar sa te ajut
pot sa te mint, sa-ti spun ca nu te-am iubit niciodata, ca nu am vrut decat sa ma culc, si nu sa dorm, cu tine.
Invita-ti si 'prietenii', sa vada cum scapi, cum iti iei zborul, cum faci viitorul mai simplu, strivind trecutul,
si lasa-i sa aplaude, si sa rada inca o data, sa se simta bine si sa iti spuna ca au avut dreptate, cand iti reprosau
ca ai ales monstrul cu inima,
in locul printului,
ce conteaza ca printul e putred pe dinauntru.
Macar atata sa iti ofer de ziua ta, daca aur nu am, sa-ti cumpar cadouri scumpe
sau sa vin cu tine, acolo unde te duci, in calatoriile tale.
Iti ofer o minte mai goala, o inima mai goala, fara mine in nici una din ele
si poate si sentimentul nobil ca ai inceput o noua viata, mai buna, mai simpla, fara o grija in plus.
Nu e mai bine asa?
(cum sa fim doar amici, cand mi-ai aratat ca doar viata mea, e mult prea ieftina pentru un sarut de-al tau, iar elena, duca-se dracu, chiar crezi ca o vroiam pe ea in locul tau)

poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Cuvinte

Sunt doar un baietel slabanog, ce inca se gandeste la fata ce l-a facut sa planga.
Imi amintesc cum atunci, in mintea ta ma aparai de cuvintele jignitoare
ale celor ce ti-au ramas prieteni,
acum cand eu nu-ti mai sunt.
Pana la urma, cred ca aveau dreptate
ca sunt prea urat pentru tine,
dar nu a fost doar atat
sunt mult mai multe lucruri
ce te fac sa te indoiesti, de iubirea mea
care infinita cat era ea
a venit prea tarziu in viata ta.
Ma indoiesc ca as fi putut face ceva mai mult pentru noi doi.
Eu nu am aur, asa cum au altii
si nu pot sa te fac regina.
In mintea mea esti doar o biata eroina, o corabie ce paraseste grabita
insula pe care a naufragiat in urma cu aproape sapte luni
intr-o noapte, cand era prea intuneric pentru stele
si de frica, te-ai lasat pacalita de sarutul meu sfios.
Eu am ramas aici, oare nu ma vezi?
Si de ce a trebuit sa-l iei si pe Vineri cu tine, nu am si eu dreptul la un prieten?
Am inceput sa scriu din ce in ce mai mult,
pentru ca am multe lucruri sa-ti spun,
dar nu o fac pentru tine, nu-ti face grija
o fac pentru mine, pentru ca vreau sa te ingrop
sub miliarde de cuvinte
si sa ma ingrop si eu, odata cu tine,
intr-o lume unde si eu sunt eroul tau, iar tu, ei bine sper ca macar acolo, in lumea mea sa ma iubesti, daca aici nu mai poti.

poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

That Plant You've Got Needs A Bigger Pot

That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.

That's what it says to me.

That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.

That's what it says to me.

'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '

That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.

That's what it says to me.

'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '

Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.

'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '

That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.

That's what it says to me.

Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.

'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '

Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Get Up Off That Pity Pot

Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.

No need to keep weeping tears,
That long ago overflowed.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.

Holding onto woes,
Have eroded your motives.
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
So wipe your eyes to dry,
And realize...
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
Get up!
Off your butt!

Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you,
Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.
And realize...
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
You are not alone.
You're not alone.
Get up!

Get up off that pity pot...
You've sat on quite a lot.
You need to get up off that pot.
Why don't you get up off that pot.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Twin State

university of chicago summer basketball
university of chicago summer camp
university of cincinati baseball camp
university of cincinnati basketball camp
university of cincinnati football camp
university of cincinnati lacrosse camp
university of cincinnati soccer camp
university of cincinnati youth basketbal
university of cinncinati football camp
university of colorado basketball camp
university of colorado basketball camps
university of colorado cross country cam
university of colorado football camp
university of colorado soccer camp
university of colorado soccer camps
university of colorado sports camps
university of colorado summer camp
university of colorado summer camps
university of colorado team lacrosse cam
university of connecticut basketball cam
university of connecticut football camp
university of connecticut girls volleyba
university of connecticut soccer camp
university of connecticut volleyball sum
university of ct summer volleyball camp
university of dallas cross country camps
university of dayton and goalkeeper camp
university of dayton baseball camp
university of dayton basketball camp
university of dayton camps
university of dayton ohio atheletic camp
university of dayton socccer camp
university of dayton soccer camp
university of dayton summer soccer camp
university of dayton volleyball camp
university of delaware 4h camp
university of delaware 4h camp applicati
university of delaware baseball camp
university of delaware camps
university of delaware field hockey camp
university of delaware football camps
university of delaware girls lacrosse ca
university of delaware lacrosse camp
university of delaware soccer camp
university of delaware tiina martin camp
university of delaware volleyball camp
university of delaware youth camps
university of delware soccer camp
university of denver and lacrosse camp
university of denver swimming summer cam

[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Montuno

yele y vvelo y baila este montuno,
Bien (coro)
Este ritmo agita poco a poco
Tiene pica pica y tambin saoco
Por qu sera
Porque ha nacido del vientre del caribe
Y el mundo recibe
Todo el calor que trae, el son montuno
yelo y vvelo y baila este montuno
Bien (coro)
Hace maravillas en la gente
De jaleo y fiesta es la fuente
Por qu sera
Porque creci en el trpico candente
De amores ardientes
Y es el calor que trae, el son montuno
yelo y vvelo y baila este montuno
Bien (coro)
No tiene fronteras (coro) es libre
Ni tiene banderas (coro) de todos
Es tumbao de calle y de hermandad
Es de ron y azcar (coro) melao
De caa y carreta (coro) bragao
Es sudor de pueblo hecho cancin
yelo y vvelo y baila este montuno, bien
yelo y vvelo y baila este montuno, bien
yelo y vvelo y baila este montuno, bien
Tiene yunfa y tiene saoco tambin
Calor y sabor de mi tierra
Ay, qu brbaro, mi montuno
A bailar, a gozar
Ay, ay, ay, qu bueno esta tumbao
yelo, bilalo
Qu rico, qu sabroso este gajeo del monte
Hace maravillas en la gente
Todos bailan con, el montuno
Montuno, el montuno
Con el montuno me voy
Me voy
(translation:)
Hear it, live it and dance this montuno well
Hear it, live it and dance this montuno well
This rhythm picks up little by little
It has pica pica and also saoco
(your guess is as good as mine)
Why is that ? ?
cause it was born in the womb of the carribean
And the world receives
All the warmth it brings..the son montuno
Hear it, live it and dance this montuno well

[...] Read more

song performed by Gloria Estefan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Take The Lid Off The Pot

Just take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got

It's been long in simming
With select ingredients
Mouths drool and this is seen
With a stirring up the scent
Eyes are watering with dreams
Now's the time to dip in and get eating
To stop the teasing that was meant

Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot.
To then taste what that pot has got

Delicious is the stew
To satisfy those licking lips
Deliciously it soothes
For those who sit and wish
With a wanting more of it!

Just take that lid off the pot
To savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take that lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got.

'What's the matter? '

There's none left!

'What are you saying?
What do you mean? '

It's gone
All of it

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pork Roll Egg & Cheese

When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not
Succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When the guavas drained, eddie dingle remains
But we must further ourselves on
So dynamic is life, staring into the sights
Not right, but wrong in a good way
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Kaiser bun
Pork roll egg and cheese
(zzzz... eeezz..
(apluase and cheers)
-thank you!
-... thank you!

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pork Roll Egg & Cheese

When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not
Succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When the guavas drained, eddie dingle remains
But we must further ourselves on
So dynamic is life, staring into the sights
Not right, but wrong in a good way
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
When youve had your fun, and your work is done, you must not succumb
I can feel you breathe, its like a mega-weedge inside,
Please dont hide
So mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Mom, if you please, pass me the pork roll egg and cheese
If you please, on a kaiser bun
Kaiser bun
Pork roll egg and cheese
(zzzz... eeezz..
(apluase and cheers)
-thank you!
-... thank you!

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!