Ezra Pound›Poezii

Simon Zelotes speaketh it somewhile after the Crucifixion Ha\' we lost the goodliest fere o\' all For the priests and the gallows tree? Aye

Go, dumb-born book, Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes: Hadst thou but song As thou hast subjects known, Then were there cause

May I for my own self song\'s truth reckon, Journey\'s jargon, how I in harsh days Hardship endured oft. Bitter breast-cares have I

See, they return; ah, see the tentative Movements, and the slow feet, The trouble in the pace and the uncertain Wavering! See, they return,

When I behold how black, immortal ink Drips from my deathless pen - ah, well-away! Why should we stop at all for what I think? There is enough

O generation of the thoroughly smug and the thoroughly uncomfortable, I have seen fishermen picknicking in the sun, I have seen them with

Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots And saying: When shall we get back to our country? Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our

Come, or the stellar tide will slip away. Eastward avoid the hour of its decline, Now! for the needle trembles in my soul! Here we have had

I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting

I would bathe myself in strangeness: These comforts heaped upon me, smother me! I burn, I scald so for the new, New friends, new

I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting couple

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves, Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop, With the little bright boxes piled up

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves, Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop, With the little bright boxes piled up

Ama il tuo sogno Ogni inferiore amore disprezzando, Il vento ama Ed accorgiti qui Che sogni solo possono veramente essere, perciò in sogno a

You came in out of the night And there were flowers in your hand, Now you will come out of a confusion of people, Out of a turmoil of speech

For three years, out of key with his time, He strove to resuscitate the dead art Of poetry; to maintain \"the sublime\" In the old scene. Wrong

And then went down to the ship, Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and We set up mast and sail on tha swart ship, Bore sheep aboard

I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak that is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I have

Loquitur: En Bertrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a stirrer up of strife. Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug

It is, and is not, I am sane enough, Since you have come this place has hovered round me, This fabrication built of autumn roses, Then

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead Played I about the front gate, pulling flowers. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing

You came in out of the night And there were flowers in your hand, Now you will come out of a confusion of people, Out of a turmoil of speech about

Loquitur: En Bertrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a stirrer-up of strife. Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I

When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs I am compelled to conclude That man is the superior animal. When I consider the curious