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"numerable" poems
¿Dónde está la memoria de los días que fueron tuyos en la tierra, y tejieron dicha y dolor y fueron para ti el universo? El río numerable de los años los ha perdido; eres una palabra en un índice. Dieron a otros gloria interminable los dioses, inscripciones y exergos y monumentos y puntuales historiadores; de ti sólo sabemos, oscuro amigo, que oíste al ruiseñor, una tarde. Entre los asfodelos de la sombra, tu vana sombra pensará que los dioses han sido avaros. Pero los días son una red de triviales miserias, ¿y habrá suerte mejor que ser la ceniza, de que está hecho el olvido? Sobre otros arrojaron los dioses la inexorable luz de la gloria, que mira las entrañas y enumera las grietas, de la gloria, que acaba por ajar la rosa que venera; contigo fueron más piadosos, hermano. En el éxtasis de un atardecer que no será una noche, oyes la voz del ruiseñor de Teócrito.
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1.8k
A un poeta menor de la antología
blocked shattered forlorn your voice unable to speak your mind unable to breathe your soul unable to feel your heart unable to love all because you're exhausted not because of anything in particular but the mere quiddity of existence, the sheer fact that your life is a repetitious routine maybe there are others that see the beauty in life but you, worn-out and tarnished have had enough, with another colossal task you're forced to do, numerable responsibilities that weigh you down, broken relationships that you cannot mend, and new-fangled ideas which you cannot innovate so when is it time to tell everyone that you've finally had enough? that you can't take it any longer? that you're much too exhausted to even care anymore? when it's too late?
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Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
exhausted
I behold with your beauty . thy charm is harp and lute worthy . from route or from ocean. i beset with Magi sojourn. thy glance is jasper ,beryl ,and sapphire. thy breath is anguent .incense .myrrh. i beset with worship to thy promised land . Sirius,Vegas,Arturus will guide me by dream or by land. thy love is the worship of heaven choir. i run not for jasper; lo, Orphic with lute and lyre. but i do run for thy heart and thy soul. i embark for love by dream or by land. LIZZY,your worship !is only by you my soul longs stand. im a beggar,im a knight ,im a messiah but im only a soul . why tarriest thou?i behold with love and fume . lets rove on down this azure of garden of fragrance perfume. i give my heart upon the dream of thy happiness . cause the toss is harsh but for you my lily bed minuteness. thou art the praised of my soul even i will face ***** oh, tempest gale what do i know ?but my gait i will always resume. drink Ichor, drink Elixir thou crudest rival Meanads. i rejoice from my ***** the love peril with my ballad. give me thy love and take from me Babilon bloom. with fantasy ,love and ecstasy and myth all is sublime. i carry not mother of pearl but the perfume of my breath . love of fire i dread not even your kiss sentence me to death. love ! i hear a numerable in as much as pain. take the glory from me but i behold difficulty of your love sustain. give me your heart ,fear no consequence for you my soul cant refrain.
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
FOR YOU MY LIZZY!
To live as one is with many a fault numerable in noble efforts as well as losses Is far preferable than to tread with treachery in one's heart coated in living tissue yet scant in moral virtue Let the hells blaze behind me and the heavens remain weary for fighting injustice is justice itself and truth alone triumphs Take heed and take care always try to illuminate ignorance but if that approach fails then scorch it with great zeal
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Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
No Goodness Left Unpunished