"last wish" – 20265 rezultate
0.03 secundeMeilisearchJohn Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
0 poezii, 0 proze
AAmara
"Poet divin, lumina fara moarte m-ajute-n grai iubirea-n veci fierbinte cu care pururi ti-am citit din carte" Infernul - Dante Alighieri This is me for forever One of the lost ones The one without a name Without an honest heart as compass This is me for forever One without a name These lines the last endeavor To find the missing lifeline Nemo - Nightwish Last dance, first kiss Your touch my bliss Beauty always comes with dark thoughts I wish... Wish I had an Angel - Nightwish
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SCStefan Ciobanasu
Which way is the right path, as I stand upon This chaotic crossroads of hate... How many ways are there to roam On this dark and damned road of fate... "There are many ways, my son, to find where the souls of demons remain...But it takes only one second of despair and of doubt Until at last, your soul, they will gain... Inherit these lands, these things, these dreams That are yours, forever, to adore... For there is no life, in the depths of chaos, my son, For you to explore... C. Vincent Metzen - 'The Initiate' All I ever craved were the two dreams I shared with you. One I now have, will the other one ever dream remain. For yours I truly wish to be. Nightwish - Ever Dream
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Raymond Carver
The American short story writer and poet Raymond Carver was born in Clatskanie, Oregon, on May 25, 1938, and lived in Port Angeles, Washington during his last ten, sober years until his death from cancer on August 2, 1988. He was a Guggenheim Fellow in 1979 and was twice awarded grants from the National Endowment for the Arts. In 1983 Carver received the prestigious Mildred and Harold Strauss Living Award which gave him $35,000 per year tax free and required that he give up any employment other than writing, and in 1985 Poetry magazine\'s Levinson Prize. In 1988 he was elected to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters and was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Hartford. He received a Brandeis Citation for fiction in 1988. His work has been translated into more than twenty languages. At least that\'s the basic biography. Of course there\'s no room in it for the nature of the hardship he and his family went through during most of those fifty...
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Admiel Kosman
Born in Israel in 1957, he is professor at the University of Potsdam and the Academic director of Abraham Geiger College in Berlin. He is the author of 7 books of poetry, and the editor of an anthology of Mystical-Religious poetry (with Meiron Eizakson). Admiel Kosman has also a column in ‘Haaretz’ (an Israeli newspaper) on traditional stories in a postmodern light. His last book which deals with modern readings of Talmudic stories is “Men’s Tractate: Rav and the Butcher and other Stories – On Manhood, Love and Authentic Life in Aggadic and Hassidic Stories” (Keter, Jerusalem 2002).
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Admiel Kosman
Born in Israel in 1957, he is professor at the University of Potsdam and the Academic director of Abraham Geiger College in Berlin. He is the author of 7 books of poetry, and the editor of an anthology of Mystical-Religious poetry (with Meiron Eizakson). Admiel Kosman has also a column in ‘Haaretz’ (an Israeli newspaper) on traditional stories in a postmodern light. His last book which deals with modern readings of Talmudic stories is “Men’s Tractate: Rav and the Butcher and other Stories – On Manhood, Love and Authentic Life in Aggadic and Hassidic Stories” (Keter, Jerusalem 2002).
0 poezii, 0 proze
Admiel Kosman
Born in Israel in 1957, he is professor at the University of Potsdam and the Academic director of Abraham Geiger College in Berlin. He is the author of 7 books of poetry, and the editor of an anthology of Mystical-Religious poetry (with Meiron Eizakson). Admiel Kosman has also a column in ‘Haaretz’ (an Israeli newspaper) on traditional stories in a postmodern light. His last book which deals with modern readings of Talmudic stories is “Men’s Tractate: Rav and the Butcher and other Stories – On Manhood, Love and Authentic Life in Aggadic and Hassidic Stories” (Keter, Jerusalem 2002).
0 poezii, 0 proze
RVRenée Vivien
Renée Vivien, born Pauline Mary Tarn (11 June 1877 - 18 November 1909) was a British poet who wrote in the French language.[1][2] She took to heart all the mannerisms of Symbolism, as one of the last poets to claim allegiance to the school. Her compositions include sonnets, hendecasyllabic verse, and prose poetry. Vivien was born in London, England to a wealthy British father and an American mother from Jackson, Michigan. She grew up in Paris and London. Upon inheriting her father's fortune at 21, she emigrated permanently to France. In Paris, Vivien's dress and lifestyle were as notorious among the bohemian set as was her verse. She lived lavishly, as an open lesbian, and carried on a well-known affair with American heiress and writer Natalie Clifford Barney. She also harbored a lifelong obsession with her closest childhood friend and neighbor, Violet Shillito – a relationship that remained unconsummated. In 1900 Vivien abandoned this chaste love, when the great romance with Natalie...
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EBElizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (6 March 1806 – 29 June 1861) was one of the most prominent poets of the Victorian era. Her poetry was widely popular in both England and the United States during her lifetime.[1] A collection of her last poems was published by her husband, Robert Browning, shortly after her death. Works/Collections 1820: The Battle of Marathon: A Poem. Privately printed 1826: A Essay On Mind, with Other Poems. London: James Duncan 1833: Prometheus Bound, Translated from the Greek of Aeschylus,and Miscellaneous Poems. London: A.J. Valpy 1838: The Seraphim, and Other Poems. London: Saunders and Otley 1844: Poems (UK) / A Drama of Exile, and other Poems (US). London: Edward Moxon. New York: Henry G. Langley 1850: Poems ("New Edition", 2 vols.) Revision of 1844 edition adding Sonnets from the Portuguese and others. London: Chapman & Hall 1851: Casa Guidi Windows. London: Chapman & Hall 1853: Poems (3d ed.). London: Chapman & Hall 1854: Two Poems: "A Plea for the Ragged Schools...
1 poezii, 0 proze
PVPaul Valéry
Paul Valéry (1871-1945) - in full Ambroise-Paul-Touissaint-Jules Valéry French poet, essayist, and critic, who ceased writing verse for twenty years to pursue scientific experiments. Valéry was a member of the 19th-century poetic school of Symbolism, and its last great representative. Throughout his life Valéry filled his private notebooks with observations on creative process and his own methods of inquiry. He insisted that the mental process of creation was alone important - the poems were a by-product of the effort. "Enthusiasm is not an artist's state of mind", stated Valéry. T.S. Eliot has compared Valéry's analytical attitude to a scientist who works in a laboratory "weighing out or testing the drugs of which is compounded some medicine with an impressive name." "Poetry is simply literature reduced to the essence of its active principle. It is purged of idols of every kind, of realistic illusions, of any conceivable equivocation between the language of "truth" and the language...
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last wish
de Mirela Lungu
uneori simt nevoia să fiu trădată mințită violată și apoi magistral mângâiată pe coapse ca și cum aș fi victima principală a unui șir nesfârșit de întâmplări identice cu femei și bărbați care mai de...
Pre-Silentivm
de Mihai Meșter
Am pasit mut si dezgolite picioare gem a doruri cersesc indurare unui dumnezeu fumat de mult pe altarele credintei in nonsensul proscris si crud ecou. iti spun infinge cutitul si scoate-mi-te...
letter-thaughts
de petrut marinescu
I was thinking about you last night.About what we\'re talking,about whatwe\'re dreaming,about how our lives are.Some of my thaughts are the same as yours and that makes me feel close to you.Some of...
undeva in realitate ,la ultimul etaj
de Alina
wishing impossible things...incruntandu-te, impotrivindu-te; ok ! fain ! inteleg ! e greshit ,n-ar trebui .. there is no future .. it can\'t be .....................si fatza in fatza apoi .. vorbing...
ITHAKA
de Constantinos Kavafis
When setting out upon your way to Ithaca, wish always that your course be long, full of adventure, full of lore. Of the Laestrygones and of the Cyclopes, of an irate Poseidon never be afraid; such...
Dialogue Between a Priest and a Dying Man (1782)
de Donatien Alphonse François, marquis de Sade
PRIEST - Come to this the fatal hour when at last from the eyes of deluded man the scales must fall away, and be shown the cruel picture of his errors and his vices - say, my son, do you not repent...
My dear Dreamer
de Lorena
Dear Dreamy, I don’t give a shit no more since you left and closed the door... I used to care, used to share but it`s all over now you’ve ruined it somehow... I wish you`d feel the way I feel all...
Rose of Doom
de Filip Ruxandra
It is the middle of the night And I sit here not sleeping tight, Thinking of what I should be doing Instead of research doing. For tomorrow I’ll be the subject of a test And fear I’ll be listened...
I Lost My Nights
de bayar
I lost my nights with trembling thoughts Around the spirit of growing hope I lost my nights with senseless love All for nothing: nothing from all… I urged myself to bluer skies Like in a fantasy...
The Death of the Hired Man
de Robert Frost
Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step, She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage To meet him in the doorway with the news And put him on his...