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 Post subject: Russian poet
PostPosted: Sun Jul 10, 2005 4:19 am 
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QuoteMistress
QuoteMistress

Joined: Thu Jun 23, 2005 1:28 am
Posts: 1181
Location: Jordan
I recently read a poem for Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin called "The Flower" and thought of sharing it with u:

The Flower

A flower withered, without scent,
Forgotten in a book I see,
And all at once a curious vision
Fills my soul:

Where did it bloom and when? Was it during
spring?
And for how long did it bloom? And picked by
whom,
By foreign or familiar hands?
And laid in here for what?

In remembrance of a tender meeting,
Or a fateful seperation,
Or a solitary stroll
In a silent field, or in a shady forest?

And still alive is he, and still alive is she?
And now where is their small corner?
Or already are they withered,
Like this unknonw flower?


here's a link where r some more of his poems:
http://members.tripod.com/~halonine/pushkin.htm

hope u like it!!
Rana


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jul 11, 2005 4:09 am 
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QuoteMaster
QuoteMaster

Joined: Tue Feb 17, 2004 2:48 pm
Posts: 709
Location: Slovakia
It's very nice!

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"Follow me," the wise man said, but he walked behind...


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jul 11, 2005 4:30 am 
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QuoteMistress
QuoteMistress

Joined: Thu Jun 23, 2005 1:28 am
Posts: 1181
Location: Jordan
thx for replying RiMMER :D

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~Sophocles


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jul 11, 2005 8:36 am 
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QuoteMaster
QuoteMaster

Joined: Mon Mar 21, 2005 2:10 pm
Posts: 355
Neat poem and it reminds me of how I feel when I watch old black and white movies and the credits go by and think that these people filled the stage and behind the scenes and I imagine them doing their work.

They went to parties and had beautiful homes and I'm watching their names go by--like the thoughts behind seeing the dried flower.


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