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今回のテーマ 「海」





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最新の情報に更新】【古い20件1468 - 1449(1468件中)
NAME:暇人 2000年01月13日 18時55分51秒
久しブリに見てみました。こんなんなってるとわ・・・
なかなかファンキーですな。
こういう事もやっぱりあるもんですね
でも無くなったらさみしいので(なくならんとおもってますが)ボチボチやってください。

雨の降り注ぐ海
真っ暗闇の海、たまにはとてもいい。

NAME:z 2000年01月13日 18時54分51秒
言葉というのは本当に頼りないモノ。
一番誤解されやすいモノ。
これ以上何を言おうと
必ず反論されるだろうし・・・

さて...どうするか?
(コタエはでている)

NAME:夏美 2000年01月13日 18時53分45秒
かきこめない・・
荒らす人へ。もうやめてください・・。おねがいします。
技術のある人へ。助けてください。

NAME:はる 2000年01月13日 18時52分44秒
14歳だから、ガキだから
だから荒らししゃんが来ると
ぶっ倒れちゃうんでぃすか?
アホもほどほどに言えでぃすねー♪
バカな取り巻きのキモイ詩を読まされるほうが
よっぽど堪えてるんじゃないでぃすかー?(木亥火暴)
あんたしゃんたちの自分勝手は放っておいて
こんなときばっかわめくなんて醜いでぃーーーっす!
ヤダ、ヤダ ┐(´ー`)┌

NAME:yuu@82 2000年01月13日 18時51分40秒
まゆさんではなく注意さんにでした。(汗)

NAME:ひごろ 2000年01月13日 18時50分39秒
書き込みたい
書き込めない
荒らしダメゼッタイ!!

NAME:B&W 2000年01月13日 18時49分29秒
海はよく‘生物の母’と言われることがある。すべての生物は海があるから生まれてこれたことからいわれるのだろう。そうゆう意味では確かに母だ。しかしこの言葉をよく言う人は、生物学的な意味ではなく、心が癒されるから母なのである、と考えているのではないか。それならば、母という言葉を使わなくてもいいのではないか。私は人類皆マザコンだと思っている。癒しの元すべてに母のイメージをつけたがるくらいだ。それは人間というものの性質上仕方が無いことかもしれないが、よく考えてほしい。海は私たちを時に牙を向け、漆黒の闇へと突き落とす。そんなものが果たして母といえるか。癒しの母など存在しない。いるとするならばそれは自分自身の心なのではないだろうか。
・・・なんか変になってしまいました。スイマセン。

NAME:MojoPin 2000年01月13日 18時48分22秒
頭の中に一つの海がある
誰かが溺れかけてる
心が呼吸しようとすると
言葉が泡になって消えていく

NAME:たっぷん 2000年01月13日 18時47分15秒
怖い……
なんでこんなになっちゃったの……

NAME:むぎ茶 2000年01月13日 18時46分05秒
おい!あらすなよ!
おまえらたのしいか?
そんなことしてネクラども詩ねププ

NAME:これを詩と言います 2000年01月13日 18時45分04秒


 

In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Markiewicz

 

THE light of evening, Lissadell,

Great windows open to the south,

Two girls in silk kimonos, both

Beautiful, one a gazelle.

But a raving autumn shears

Blossom from the summer's wreath;

The older is condemned to death,

Pardoned, drags out lonely years

Conspiring among the ignorant.

I know not what the younger dreams -

Some vague Utopia - and she seems,

When withered old and skeleton-gaunt,

An image of such politics.

Many a time I think to seek

One or the other out and speak

Of that old Georgian mansion, mix

pictures of the mind, recall

That table and the talk of youth,

Two girls in silk kimonos, both

Beautiful, one a gazelle.

Dear shadows, now you know it all,

All the folly of a fight

With a common wrong or right.

The innocent and the beautiful.

Have no enemy but time;

Arise and bid me strike a match

And strike another till time catch;

Should the conflagration climb,

Run till all the sages know.

We the great gazebo built,

They convicted us of guilt;

Bid me strike a match and blow.

 

Death

 

NOR dread nor hope attend

A dying animal;

A man awaits his end

Dreading and hoping all;

Many times he died,

Many times rose again.

A great man in his pride

Confronting murderous men

Casts derision upon

Supersession of breath;

He knows death to the bone -

Man has created death.

 

A Dialogue of Self and Soul

 

My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;

Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,

Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,

Upon the breathless starlit air,

'Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;

Fix every wandering thought upon

That quarter where all thought is done:

Who can distinguish darkness from the soul

 

My Self. The consecrates blade upon my knees

Is Sato's ancient blade, still as it was,

Still razor-keen, still like a looking-glass

Unspotted by the centuries;

That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn

From some court-lady's dress and round

The wooden scabbard bound and wound

Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn

 

My Soul. Why should the imagination of a man

Long past his prime remember things that are

Emblematical of love and war?

Think of ancestral night that can,

If but imagination scorn the earth

And intellect is wandering

To this and that and t'other thing,

Deliver from the crime of death and birth.

 

My self. Montashigi, third of his family, fashioned it

Five hundred years ago, about it lie

Flowers from I know not what embroidery -

Heart's purple - and all these I set

For emblems of the day against the tower

Emblematical of the night,

And claim as by a soldier's right

A charter to commit the crime once more.

 

My Soul. Such fullness in that quarter overflows

And falls into the basin of the mind

That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind,

For intellect no longer knows

Is from the Ought, or Knower from the Known -

That is to say, ascends to Heaven;

Only the dead can be forgiven;

But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.

 

II

 

My Self. A living man is blind and drinks his drop.

What matter if the ditches are impure?

What matter if I live it all once more?

Endure that toil of growing up;

The ignominy of boyhood; the distress

Of boyhood changing into man;

The unfinished man and his pain

Brought face to face with his own clumsiness;

 

The finished man among his enemies? -

How in the name of Heaven can he escape

That defiling and disfigured shape

The mirror of malicious eyes

Casts upon his eyes until at last

He thinks that shape must be his shape?

And what's the good of an escape

If honour find him in the wintry blast?

 

I am content to live it all again

And yet again, if it be life to pitch

Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch,

A blind man battering blind men;

Or into that most fecund ditch of all,

The folly that man does

Or must suffer, if he woos

A proud woman not kindred of his soul.

 

I am content to follow to its source

Every event in action or in thought;

Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!

When such as I cast out remorse

So great a sweetness flows into the breast

We must laugh and we must sing,

We are blest by everything,

Everything we look upon is blest.

 

Blood And The Moon

 

I

 

BLESSED be this place,

More blessed still this tower;

A bloody, arrogant power

Rose out of the race

Uttering, mastering it,

Rose like these walls from these

Storm-beaten cottages -

In mockery I have set

A powerful emblem up,

And sing it rhyme upon rhyme

In mockery of a time

Half dead at the top.

 

II

 

Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's

An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the sun's journey and the moon's;

And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers he called them once.

 

I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare

This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my ancestral stair;

That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke have travelled there.

 

Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind

Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had dragged him down into mankind,

Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his mind,

 

And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a tree,

That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, century after century,

Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality;

 

And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a dream,

That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its farrow that so solid seem,

Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its theme;

 

Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire,

The strength that gives our blood and state magnanimity of its own desire;

Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual fire.

 

III

 

The purity of the unclouded moon

Has flung its arrowy shaft upon the floor.

Seven centuries have passed and it is pure,

The blood of innocence has left no stain.

There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood

Soldier, assassin, executioner.

Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear

Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood,

But could not cast a single jet thereon.

Odour of blood on the ancestral stair!

And we that have shed none must gather there

And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon.

IV

 

Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling,

And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies,

Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies,

A couple of night-moths are on the wing.

Is every modern nation like the tower,

Half dead at the top? No matter what I said,

For wisdom is the property of the dead,

A something incompatible with life; and power,

Like everything that has the stain of blood,

A property of the living; but no stain

Can come upon the visage of the moon

When it has looked in glory from a cloud.

 

 

Oil And Blood

 

IN tombs of gold and lapis lazuli

Bodies of holy men and women exude

Miraculous oil, odour of violet.

 

But under heavy loads of trampled clay

Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood;

Their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet.

 

Veronica's Napkin

 

THE Heavenly Circuit; Berenice's Hair;

Tent-pole of Eden; the tent's drapery;

Symbolical glory of the earth and air!

The Father and His angelic hierarchy

That made the magnitude and glory there

Stood in the circuit of a needle's eye.

 

Some found a different pole, and where it stood

A pattern on a napkin dipped in blood.

 

Symbols

 

A STORM BEATEN old watch-tower,

A blind hermit rings the hour.

 

All-destroying sword-blade still

Carried by the wandering fool.

 

Gold-sewn silk on the sword-blade,

Beauty and fool together laid.

 

Spilt Milk

 

WE that have done and thought,

That have thought and done,

Must ramble, and thin out

Like milk spilt on a stone.

 

The Nineteenth Century And After

 

THOUGH the great song return no more

There's keen delight in what we have:

The rattle of pebbles on the shore

Under the receding wave.

 

Statistics

 

'THOSE Platonists are a curse,' he said,

'God's fire upon the wane,

A diagram hung there instead,

More women born than men.'

 

Three Movements

 

SHAKESPEAREAN fish swam the sea, far away from land;

Romantic fish swam in nets coming to the hand;

What are all those fish that lie gasping on the strand?

 

The Seven Sages

 

The First. My great-grandfather spoke to Edmund Burke

In Grattan's house.

The Second. My great-grandfather shared

A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith once.

The Third. My great-grandfather's father talked of music,

Drank tar-water with the Bishop of Cloyne.

The Fourth. But mine saw Stella once.

The Fifth. Whence came our thought?

The Sixth. From four great minds that hated Whiggery.

The Fifth. Burke was a Whig.

The Sixth. Whether they knew or not,

Goldsmith and Burke, Swift and the Bishop of Cloyne

All hated Whiggery; but what is Whiggery?

A levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind

That never looked out of the eye of a saint

Or out of drunkard's eye.

The Seventh. All's Whiggery now,

But we old men are massed against the world.

The First. American colonies, Ireland, France and India

Harried, and Burke's great melody against it.

The Second. Oliver Goldsmith sang what he had seen,

Roads full of beggars, cattle in the fields,

But never saw the trefoil stained with blood,

The avenging leaf those fields raised up against it.

The Fourth. The tomb of Swift wears it away.

The Third. A voice

Soft as the rustle of a reed from Cloyne

That gathers volume; now a thunder-clap.

The Sixth. What schooling had these four?

The Seventh. They walked the roads

Mimicking what they heard, as children mimic;

They understood that wisdom comes of beggary.

 

 

The Crazed Moon

 

CRAZED through much child-bearing

The moon is staggering in the sky;

Moon-struck by the despairing

Glances of her wandering eye

We grope, and grope in vain,

For children born of her pain.

 

Children dazed or dead!

When she in all her virginal pride

First trod on the mountain's head

What stir ran through the countryside

Where every foot obeyed her glance!

What manhood led the dance!

 

Fly-catchers of the moon,

Our hands are blenched, our fingers seem

But slender needles of bone;

Blenched by that malicious dream

They are spread wide that each

May rend what comes in reach.

 

Coole Park, 1929

 

I MEDITATE upon a swallow's flight,

Upon a aged woman and her house,

A sycamore and lime-tree lost in night

Although that western cloud is luminous,

Great works constructed there in nature's spite

For scholars and for poets after us,

Thoughts long knitted into a single thought,

A dance-like glory that those walls begot.

 

There Hyde before he had beaten into prose

That noble blade the Muses buckled on,

There one that ruffled in a manly pose

For all his timid heart, there that slow man,

That meditative man, John Synge, and those

Impetuous men, Shawe-Taylor and Hugh Lane,

Found pride established in humility,

A scene well Set and excellent company.

 

They came like swallows and like swallows went,

And yet a woman's powerful character

Could keep a Swallow to its first intent;

And half a dozen in formation there,

That seemed to whirl upon a compass-point,

Found certainty upon the dreaming air,

The intellectual sweetness of those lines

That cut through time or cross it withershins.

 

Here, traveller, scholar, poet, take your stand

When all those rooms and passages are gone,

When nettles wave upon a shapeless mound

And saplings root among the broken stone,

And dedicate - eyes bent upon the ground,

Back turned upon the brightness of the sun

And all the sensuality of the shade -

A moment's memory to that laurelled head.

 

 

Coole Park And Ballylee, 1931

 

UNDER my window-ledge the waters race,

Otters below and moor-hens on the top,

Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven's face

Then darkening through 'dark' Raftery's 'cellar' drop,

Run underground, rise in a rocky place

In Coole demesne, and there to finish up

Spread to a lake and drop into a hole.

What's water but the generated soul?

 

Upon the border of that lake's a wood

Now all dry sticks under a wintry sun,

And in a copse of beeches there I stood,

For Nature's pulled her tragic buskin on

And all the rant's a mirror of my mood:

At sudden thunder of the mounting swan

I turned about and looked where branches break

The glittering reaches of the flooded lake.

 

Another emblem there! That stormy white

But seems a concentration of the sky;

And, like the soul, it sails into the sight

And in the morning's gone, no man knows why;

And is so lovely that it sets to right

What knowledge or its lack had set awry,

So arrogantly pure, a child might think

It can be murdered with a spot of ink.

 

Sound of a stick upon the floor, a sound

From somebody that toils from chair to chair;

Beloved books that famous hands have bound,

Old marble heads, old pictures everywhere;

Great rooms where travelled men and children found

Content or joy; a last inheritor

Where none has reigned that lacked a name and fame

Or out of folly into folly came.

 

A spot whereon the founders lived and died

Seemed once more dear than life; ancestral trees,

Or gardens rich in memory glorified

Marriages, alliances and families,

And every bride's ambition satisfied.

Where fashion or mere fantasy decrees

We shift about - all that great glory spent -

Like some poor Arab tribesman and his tent.

 

We were the last romantics - chose for theme

Traditional sanctity and loveliness;

Whatever's written in what poets name

The book of the people; whatever most can bless

The mind of man or elevate a rhyme;

But all is changed, that high horse riderless,

Though mounted in that saddle Homer rode

Where the swan drifts upon a darkening flood.

 

 

For Anne Gregory

 

'NEVER shall a young man,

Thrown into despair

By those great honey-coloured

Ramparts at your ear,

Love you for yourself alone

And not your yellow hair.'

 

'But I can get a hair-dye

And set such colour there,

Brown, or black, or carrot,

That young men in despair

May love me for myself alone

And not my yellow hair.'

 

'I heard an old religious man

But yesternight declare

That he had found a text to prove

That only God, my dear,

Could love you for yourself alone

And not your yellow hair.'

 

 

Swift's Epitaph

 

SWIFT has sailed into his rest;

Savage indignation there

Cannot lacerate his breast.

Imitate him if you dare,

World-besotted traveller; he

Served human liberty.

 

 

At Algeciras - A Meditation Upon Death

 

THE heron-billed pale cattle-birds

That feed on some foul parasite

Of the Moroccan flocks and herds

Cross the narrow Straits to light

In the rich midnight of the garden trees

Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.

 

Often at evening when a boy

Would I carry to a friend -

Hoping more substantial joy

Did an older mind commend -

Not such as are in Newton's metaphor,

But actual shells of Rosses' level shore.

 

Greater glory in the Sun,

An evening chill upon the air,

Bid imagination run

Much on the Great Questioner;

What He can question, what if questioned I

Can with a fitting confidence reply.

 

The Choice

 

The intellect of man is forced to choose

perfection of the life, or of the work,

And if it take the second must refuse

A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.

When all that story's finished, what's the news?

In luck or out the toil has left its mark:

That old perplexity an empty purse,

Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.

 

Mohini Chatterjee

 

I ASKED if I should pray.

But the Brahmin said,

`pray for nothing, say

Every night in bed,

'I have been a king,

I have been a slave,

Nor is there anything.

Fool, rascal, knave,

That I have not been,

And yet upon my breast

A myriad heads have lain.''

 

That he might Set at rest

A boy's turbulent days

Mohini Chatterjee

Spoke these, or words like these,

I add in commentary,

'Old lovers yet may have

All that time denied -

Grave is heaped on grave

That they be satisfied -

Over the blackened earth

The old troops parade,

Birth is heaped on Birth

That such cannonade

May thunder time away,

Birth-hour and death-hour meet,

Or, as great sages say,

Men dance on deathless feet.'

 

 

Byzantium

 

THE unpurged images of day recede;

The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;

Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song

After great cathedral gong;

A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains

All that man is,

All mere complexities,

The fury and the mire of human veins.

 

Before me floats an image, man or shade,

Shade more than man, more image than a shade;

For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth

May unwind the winding path;

A mouth that has no moisture and no breath

Breathless mouths may summon;

I hail the superhuman;

I call it death-in-life and life-in-death.

 

Miracle, bird or golden handiwork,

More miracle than bird or handiwork,

Planted on the star-lit golden bough,

Can like the cocks of Hades crow,

Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud

In glory of changeless metal

Common bird or petal

And all complexities of mire or blood.

 

At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit

Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit,

Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame,

Where blood-begotten spirits come

And all complexities of fury leave,

Dying into a dance,

An agony of trance,

An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.

 

Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood,

Spirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood.

The golden smithies of the Emperor!

Marbles of the dancing floor

Break bitter furies of complexity,

Those images that yet

Fresh images beget,

That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

 

 

The Mother Of God

 

THE threefold terror of love; a fallen flare

Through the hollow of an ear;

Wings beating about the room;

The terror of all terrors that I bore

The Heavens in my womb.

 

Had I not found content among the shows

Every common woman knows,

Chimney corner, garden walk,

Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes

And gather all the talk?

 

What is this flesh I purchased with my pains,

This fallen star my milk sustains,

This love that makes my heart's blood stop

Or strikes a sudden chill into my bones

And bids my hair stand up?

 

 

Vacillation

 

I

 

BETWEEN extremities

Man runs his course;

A brand, or flaming breath.

Comes to destroy

All those antinomies

Of day and night;

The body calls it death,

The heart remorse.

But if these be right

What is joy?

 

II

 

A tree there is that from its topmost bough

Is half all glittering flame and half all green

Abounding foliage moistened with the dew;

And half is half and yet is all the scene;

And half and half consume what they renew,

And he that Attis' image hangs between

That staring fury and the blind lush leaf

May know not what he knows, but knows not grief

 

III

 

Get all the gold and silver that you can,

Satisfy ambition, animate

The trivial days and ram them with the sun,

And yet upon these maxims meditate:

All women dote upon an idle man

Although their children need a rich estate;

No man has ever lived that had enough

Of children's gratitude or woman's love.

No longer in Lethean foliage caught

Begin the preparation for your death

And from the fortieth winter by that thought

Test every work of intellect or faith,

And everything that your own hands have wrought

And call those works extravagance of breath

That are not suited for such men as come

proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.

 

IV

 

My fiftieth year had come and gone,

I sat, a solitary man,

In a crowded London shop,

An open book and empty cup

On the marble table-top.

 

While on the shop and street I gazed

My body of a sudden blazed;

And twenty minutes more or less

It seemed, so great my happiness,

That I was blessed and could bless.

 

X

 

Although the summer sunlight gild

Cloudy leafage of the sky,

Or wintry moonlight sink the field

In storm-scattered intricacy,

I cannot look thereon,

Responsibility so weighs me down.

Things said or done long years ago,

Or things I did not do or say

But thought that I might say or do,

Weigh me down, and not a day

But something is recalled,

My conscience or my vanity appalled.

 

Y

 

A rivery field spread out below,

An odour of the new-mown hay

In his nostrils, the great lord of Chou

Cried, casting off the mountain snow,

'Let all things pass away.'

 

Wheels by milk-white asses drawn

Where Babylon or Nineveh

Rose; some conquer drew rein

And cried to battle-weary men,

'Let all things pass away.'

 

From man's blood-sodden heart are sprung

Those branches of the night and day

Where the gaudy moon is hung.

What's the meaning of all song?

'Let all things pass away.'

 

VII

 

The Soul. Seek out reality, leave things that seem.

The Heart. What, be a singer born and lack a theme?

The Soul. Isaiah's coal, what more can man desire?

The Heart. Struck dumb in the simplicity of fire!

The Soul. Look on that fire, salvation walks within.

The Heart. What theme had Homer but original sin?

 

VIII

 

Must we part, Von Hugel, though much alike, for we

Accept the miracles of the saints and honour sanctity?

The body of Saint Teresa lies undecayed in tomb,

Bathed in miraculous oil, sweet odours from it come,

Healing from its lettered slab. Those self-same hands

perchance

Eternalised the body of a modern saint that once

Had scooped out pharaoh's mummy. I -- though heart

might find relief

Did I become a Christian man and choose for my belief

What seems most welcome in the tomb -- play a pre-

destined part.

Homer is my example and his unchristened heart.

The lion and the honeycomb, what has Scripture said?

So get you gone, Von Hugel, though with blessings on

your head.

 

 

Quarrel in Old Age

 

WHERE had her sweetness gone?

What fanatics invent

In this blind bitter town,

Fantasy or incident

Not worth thinking of,

put her in a rage.

I had forgiven enough

That had forgiven old age.

 

All lives that has lived;

So much is certain;

Old sages were not deceived:

Somewhere beyond the curtain

Of distorting days

Lives that lonely thing

That shone before these eyes

Targeted, trod like Spring.

 

 

The Results of Thought

 

ACQUAINTANCE; companion;

One dear brilliant woman;

The best-endowed, the elect,

All by their youth undone,

All, all, by that inhuman

Bitter glory wrecked.

 

But I have straightened out

Ruin, wreck and wrack;

I toiled long years and at length

Came to so deep a thought

I can summon back

All their wholesome strength.

What images are these

That turn dull-eyed away,

Or shift Time's filthy load,

Straighten aged knees,

Hesitate or stay?

What heads shake or nod?

 

 

Gratitude to the Unknown Instructors

 

WHAT they undertook to do

They brought to pass;

All things hang like a drop of dew

Upon a blade of grass.

 

 

Remorse for the Intemperate Speech

 

I RANTED to the knave and fool,

But outgrew that school,

Would transform the part,

Fit audience found, but cannot rule

My fanatic heart.

I sought my betters: though in each

Fine manners, liberal speech,

Turn hatred into sport,

Nothing said or done can reach

My fanatic heart,

 

Out of Ireland have we come.

Great hatred, little room,

Maimed us at the start.

I carry from my mother's womb

A fanatic heart.

 

 

Stream and Sun at Glendalough

 

THROUGH intricate motions ran

Stream and gliding sun

And all my heart seemed gay:

Some stupid thing that I had done

Made my attention stray.

Repentance keeps my heart impure;

But what am I that dare

Fancy that I can

Better conduct myself or have more

Sense than a common man?

 

What motion of the sun or stream

Or eyelid shot the gleam

That pierced my body through?

What made me live like these that seem

Self-born, born anew?

 

 

Words for Music Perhaps (1932)

 

I

 

Crazy Jane and the Bishop

 

BRING me to the blasted oak

That I, midnight upon the stroke,

(All find safety in the tomb.)

May call down curses on his head

Because of my dear Jack that's dead.

Coxcomb was the least he said:

The solid man and the coxcomb.

 

Nor was he Bishop when his ban

Banished Jack the Journeyman,

(All find safety in the tomb.)

Nor so much as parish priest,

Yet he, an old book in his fist,

Cried that we lived like beast and beast:

The solid man and the coxcomb.

The Bishop has a skin, God knows,

Wrinkled like the foot of a goose,

(All find safety in the tomb.)

Nor can he hide in holy black

The heron's hunch upon his back,

But a birch-tree stood my Jack:

The solid man and the coxcomb.

 

Jack had my virginity,

And bids me to the oak, for he

(All find safety in the tomb.)

Wanders out into the night

And there is shelter under it,

But should that other come, I spit:

The solid man and the coxcomb.

 

 

II

 

Crazy Jane Reproved

 

I CARE not what the sailors say:

All those dreadful thunder-stones,

All that storm that blots the day

Can but show that Heaven yawns;

Great Europa played the fool

That changed a lover for a bull.

Fol de rol, fol de rol.

 

To round that shell's elaborate whorl,

Adorning every secret track

With the delicate mother-of-pearl,

Made the joints of Heaven crack:

So never hang your heart upon

A roaring, ranting journeyman.

Fol de rol, fol de rol.

 

 

III - CRAZY JANE ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT

 

'LOVE is all

Unsatisfied

That cannot take the whole

Body and soul';

And that is what Jane said.

 

'Take the sour

If you take me

I can scoff and lour

And scold for an hour.'

'That's certainly the case,' said he.

 

'Naked I lay,

The grass my bed;

Naked and hidden away,

That black day';

And that is what Jane said.

 

'What can be shown?

What true love be?

All could be known or shown

If Time were but gone.'

'That's certainly the case,' said he.

 

 

IV - CRAZY JANE AND JACK THE JOURNEYMAN

 

I KNOW, although when looks meet

I tremble to the bone,

The more I leave the door unlatched

The sooner love is gone,

For love is but a skein unwound

Between the dark and dawn.

 

A lonely ghost the ghost is

That to God shall come;

I -- love's skein upon the ground,

My body in the tomb --

Shall leap into the light lost

In my mother's womb.

 

But were I left to lie alone

In an empty bed,

The skein so bound us ghost to ghost

When he turned his head

passing on the road that night,

Mine must walk when dead.

 

 

V - CRAZY JANE ON GOD

 

THAT lover of a night

Came when he would,

Went in the dawning light

Whether I would or no;

Men come, men go;

All things remain in God.

Banners choke the sky;

Men-at-arms tread;

Armoured horses neigh

In the narrow pass:

All things remain in God.

 

Before their eyes a house

That from childhood stood

Uninhabited, ruinous,

Suddenly lit up

From door to top:

All things remain in God.

 

I had wild Jack for a lover;

Though like a road

That men pass over

My body makes no moan

But sings on:

All things remain in God.

 

 

VI - CRAZY JANE TALKS WITH THE BISHOP

 

I MET the Bishop on the road

And much said he and I.

'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,

Those veins must soon be dry;

Live in a heavenly mansion,

Not in some foul sty.'

 

'Fair and foul are near of kin,

And fair needs foul,' I cried.

'My friends are gone, but that's a truth

Nor grave nor bed denied,

Learned in bodily lowliness

And in the heart's pride.

 

'A woman can be proud and stiff

When on love intent;

But Lo

NAME:ももんが 2000年01月13日 18時44分03秒
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それともわざとなのかなぁ。
それとも蛍字ってやつなのかなぁ。
ナレーターに『無』に似た字とか言われてたなぁ。
わっかんないなぁ。

NAME:  2000年01月13日 18時43分03秒
荒らしてるのは2chの人ですね。とりあえず
リファラー制限とプロクシはじきでもしてみたらどうですか?

NAME:KeiT 2000年01月13日 18時41分59秒
螢は…いつも画鋲に集まったメッセージを見て、返事くれたりしてるけど…
今日のメッセージも見るの?
見なくちゃいけないのか?
それは・・・本当に残酷なことだと思う・・・

NAME:あめぞう 2000年01月13日 18時40分58秒
螢と蛍の違いを知りたいエンクミ

NAME:本当の詩 2000年01月13日 18時39分55秒

I

L'an quatre cens cinquante six, 1 B:Mil qu. c. cinq. et six C:[A]n l'an mil qu.
Je, Fran輟y Villon, escollier, 2 [I:L'an mil qu.
Considerant, de sens rassis, 3
Le frain aux dens, franc au collier, 4
Qu'on doit ses euvres conseillier, 5
Comme Vegece le racompte, 6
Sage Rommain, grant conseillier, 7
Ou autrement on se mescompte... 8

II

En ce temps que j'ay dit devant, 9
Sur Nol, morte saison, 10 A:nouuel
Que les loups se vivent du vent 11 BCF:loups vivent F:loups si vivent
Et qu'on se tient en sa maison, 12 [ABI:de vent
pour le frimas, pres du tyson, 13
Me vint ung vouloir de briser 14
La tres amoureuse prison 15
Qui faisoit mon cueur debriser. 16 BFA:souloit

III

Je le feiz en telle fa輟n, 17
Voyant celle devant mes yeult 18
Consentant a ma deffa輟n, 19
Sans ce que ja luy en fust mieulx ; 20
Dont je me dueil et plains aux cieulx, 21
En requerant d'elle vengance 22
A tous les dieux venereux, 23 C:victorieux
Et du grief d'amours allegence. 24

IV-IX manque dans C et I. Le texte reproduit est celui de A.

IV

Et se j'ay prins en ma faveur 25
Ces doulx regars et beaux semblans 26
De tres decevante saveur 27
Me tresparsans jusques aux flans, 28
Bien ils ont vers moy les pi駸 blancs 29 A:Bien sil
Et me faillent au grant besoing : 30
Planter me fault aultres complans 31
Et frapper en ung aultre coing. 32

V

Le regard de celle m'apris 33
qui m'a est fellone et dur ; 34
Sans ce qu'en riens j'aye mesprins, 35
Veult et ordonne que j'endure 36
La mort, et que plus je ne dure. 37
Si n'y vois secours que four ; 38
Rompre veult la vive soudure 39
Sans mes pitieux regrets our. 40

VI

Pour obvier a ses dangiers, 41 AF:ces dangers
Mon mieulx est, ce croy, de partir. 42 A:de fouir BF:departir
A Dieu ! Je m'en vois a Angers, 43
Puis qu'el ne me veult impartir 44
Sa grace ne me departir. 45 AF:gr. il me convient partir
Par elle meurs, les membres sains ; 46
Au fort, je suys amant martir, 47
Du nombre des amoureux sains. 48

VII

Combien que le depart me soit 49
Dur, si fault il que je l'eslongne ; 50
Comme mon povre sens consoit, 51
Aultre que moy est en quelongne, 52
Dont oncques soret de Boulongne 53 A:Qui plus billon et plus or songne,
Ne fut plus alter d'humeur. 54 A:Plus jeune et mieulx garny d'umeur.
C'est pour moy piteuse besongne : 55
Dieu en vueille our ma clameur ! 56

VIII

Et puys que departir me fault 57
Et du retour ne suis certain 58
(Je ne suis homme sans deffault, 59
Ne qu'aultre d'assier ne d'estain ; 60
Vivre aux humains est incertain 61
Et apr駸 mort n'y a relaiz) 62
- Je m'en vois en pays lointain -, 63
Si establit ce present laiz. 64

IX

Premierement, ou nom du Pere, 65
Du Filz et Saint Esperit, 66
Et de sa gloreuse Mere 67
Par qui grace riens ne perit, 68 A:point ne perit
Je laisse, de par Dieu, mon bruyt 69
A maistre Guillaume Villon, 70
Qui en l'onneur de son nom bruyt, 71
Mes tentes et mon pavillon. 72

X

Item, a celle que j'ay dit 73
Qui si durement m'a chass 74
Que je suis de joye interdit 75
Et de tout plaisir dechass, 76
Je laisse mon cueur enchass, 77
Palle, pitieux, mort et transy. 78
Elle m'a ce mal pourchass, 79
Mais Dieu luy en face mercy ! 80

XI

Item, a maistre Ythier Merchant, 81
Auquel je me sens tres tenu, 82
Laisse mon branc d'acier tranchant, 83
Et a maistre Jehan le Cornu, 84 AF:Ou a m.
Qui est en gaige detenu 85
Pour ung escot sept solz montant ; 86 AF:huit
Je veul, selon le contenu, 87 AF:Si veuil
Qu'on leur livre... en le rachetant ! 88 B:Qu'on lui l.

XII

Item, je laisse a Sainct Amant 89
Le Cheval blanc avec la Mule, 90 BF:bl. ou la m.
Et a Blaru mon damant 91
Et l'Asne roy qui reculle. 92
Et le decret qui articulle 93
Omnis utriusque sexus 94
Contre la Carmeliste bulle 95
Laisse aux cur駸, pour mettre sus. 96

XIII

Et a maistre Robert Valee, 97
Povre clergot en Parlement, 98
Qui n'entend ne mont ne valee, 99
J'ordonne principalement 100
Qu'on luy baille legierement 101
Mes brayes, estans aux Trumillieres, 102
Pour coyffer plus honnestement 103
S'amye Jehanne de Milliers. 104

XIV

Pour ce qu'il est de lieu honneste 105
Fault qu'il soit mieulx recompens, 106
Car le Saint Esperit l'adomoneste, 107
Obstant ce qu'il est insens. 108
Pour ce, je me suis pourpens, 109
Puis qu'il n'a sens ne qu'une aulmoire, 110 C:nez q'une
A recouvrer sur Mau pens, 111
Qu'on lui baille, l'Art de memoire. 112 A:De recouvrer l'art

XV

Item, pour assigner la vie 113 CI:Item je assigne
Du dessus dit maitre Robert, 114
Pour Dieu, n'y ai駸 point d'envye, 115
Mes parents, vend駸 mon haubert, 116
Et que l'argent, ou la plus part, 117
Soit emploi, dedans ces Pasques 118
A acheter a ce poupart 119
Une fenestre empr駸 Saint Jacques. 120

XVI

Item, laisse et donne en pur don 121 C:De rechief,je laisseen pur don
Mes gans et ma houcque de soye 122
A mon amy Jacques Cardon, 123
Le glan aussi d'une saulsoye, 124
Et tous les jours une grasse oye 125
Et ung chappon de haule gresse, 126
Dix muys de vin blanc comme croye, 127
Et deux proc駸, que trop n'engresse. 128

XVII

Item, je less a noble homme 129 CI:ce jeune homme
Regnier de Montigny, trois chiens ; 130
Aussi a Jehan Raguier la somme 131
De cent frans prins sur tous mes biens ; 132
Mais quoy ? Je n'y comprens en riens 133
Ce que je pourray acquerir : 134
L'en ne doit trop prendre des siens, 135
Ne ses amys trop surquerir. 136 C:Ne trop ses a. s.

XVIII

Item, au seigneur de Grigny 137
Laisse la garde de Nygon 138
Et six chiens plus qu'a Montigny, 139
Vicestre, chastel et donjon ; 140
Et a ce malostre changon, 141
Moutonnier, qui le tient en proc駸, 142 A:Mouton
Laisse troys coups d'ung escourgon 143
Et coucher paix et aise es ceps. 144

XIX

Item, au Chevalier du guet, 145
Le Haulme luy establis, 146
Et aux pietons qui vont d'aguet 147
Tastonnant par ces establis, 148
Je leur laiss ung beau riblis, 149 BI:deux beaux rubiz
La Lanterne a la Pierre au Let, 150
Voire, mes j'aray les Troys Lis, 151 C:lictz
S'ilz me mainent en Chastellet. 152

XX

Et a maistre Jaques Raguier 153
Laisse l'Abeuvroir Popin, 154
Paiches, poires - sucr, figuier-, 155 CI(Duf):Perches, poussins au blanc menger
Tous jours le choiz d'ung bon loppin, 156 [F:Perches poires gras figuier
Le trou de la Pomme de Pin, 157
Cloz et couvert, au feu la plante, 158
Emmaillot en jacopin, 159
Et qui vouldra planter si plante ! 160

XXI

Item, a maistre Jehan Mautaint 161
Et maistre Pierre Basannier, 162
Le gr du seigneur qui attainct 163
Troubles, forfaiz, sans espargnier ; 164
Et a mon procureur Fournier, 165
Bonnetz cours, chausses semelees, 166
Taillees sur mon cordouennier, 167
Pour porter durant ces gelees. 168

XXII

Item, a Jehan Trouv, boucher, 169
Laisse le Mouton franc et tendre, 170
Et ung tacon pour esmouchier 171
Le Beuf Couronn qu'on veult vendre, 172
Et la Vache, qui pourra prendre 173 C(Duf):qu'on ne peulx prendre
Le vilain qui la trousse au col : 174
S'il ne la rend, qu'on le puist pendre 175
Et estrangler d'un bon licol ! 176 BI:Ou estr. CF:Ou(F:Et) asommer d'un

XXIII

Item, a Perrenet Merchant, 177
Qu'on dit le Bastard de la Barre, 178
Pour ce qu'il est ung bon merchant, 179
Luy laisse trois gluyons de feurre 180 F:gluys de ferre
Pour estendre dessus la terre 181
A faire l'amoureux mestier, 182
Ou il luy fauldra sa vie querre, 183 F:il lui faudroit son pain querre
Car il ne scet autre mestier. 184

XXIV

Item, au Loup et a Cholet 185
Je laisse a la fois ung canart 186
Prins sur les murs comme on souloit, 187
Envers les foss駸, sur le tart, 188
Et a chascun ung grant tabart 189
De cordelier jusques aux piez, 190
Busche, charbon et poys au lart, 191
Et mes houseaulx sans avantpiez. 192

XXV

Item, je laiss, en piti 193 CI:De rechief
A trois petis enffans tous nudz 194
Nomm駸 en ce present traicti, 195
- Povres orphelins impourveuz, 196
Tous deschaussez, tous despourveuz, 197 B:desch. et desvestuz
Et desnuez comme le ver 198
(J'ordonne qu'ilz seront pourveuz, 199 ABI:soient
Au moins pour passer cest yver) - , 200

XXVI

Premierement, Colin Laurens, 201
Girard Gossoun, Jehan Marceau, 202
Desprins de biens et de parens, 203 ABF:Despourveus
Qui n'ont vaillant l'anse d'un seau, 204
Chascun de mes biens ung fesseau 205
Ou quatre blans, s'ilz l'aiment mieulx ; 206
Ilz mengeront maint bon morceau, 207 A:le bon m. BF:les bons norceaulx
Les enffans, quand je seray vieulx. 208

XXVII

Item, ma nominacon, 209 C:nomination
Que j'ay de l'Universit, 210
Laisse par resignacon, 211 C:resignation
Pour seclurre d'aversit 212 A:exclure B:esclaure
Povres clers de cest cit 213
Soubz cest intendit contenus ; 214
Charit m'y a incit 215
Et Nature, les voyans nudz. 216 AF:voiant

XXVIII

C'est maistre Guillaume Cottin 217
Et maistre Thibault de Vittry, 218
Deux povres clers parlans latin, 219
Humbles, biens chantans au lectry, 220 C:letrin
Paisibles enffans sans estry : 221 AC:estrif
Je leur laisse sans recevoir 222
Sur la maison Guillot Gueutry, 223
En attendant de mieulx avoir. 224

XXIX

Item, et j'adjoinctz a la crosse 225
Celle de la rue Saint Anthoine, 226
Ou ung billart de quoy on crosse, 227
Et tous les jours plain pot de Seine 228
Aux pigons qui sont en l'essoyne, 229 A:soubz la saine
Ensser駸 soubz trappe voliere, 230
Mon miroer bel et ydoyne 231
Et la grace de la geolliere. 232

XXX

Item, je laisse aux hospitaux 233
Mes chassis tissus d'arignie, 234
Et aux gisans soubz les estaulx, 235 BI:sur
Chascun sur l'eul une grognee, 236
Trambler a chiere renfrongnee, 237
Megres, velus et morfondus, 238
Chausses courts, robe rongnee, 239
Gelez, murdriz et enfondus. 240

XXXI

Item, je laisse a mon barbier 241
Les rongnures de mes cheveux, 242
Plainement et sans destourbier ; 243 A:sans decombrier
Au savetier mes souliers vieulx, 244
Et au freppier mes habitz tieulx 245
Que quant du tout je les delaisse ; 246
Pour mains qu'ilz ne cousterent neufz 247
Charitablement je leur laisse. 248

XXXII

Item, je laisse aux Mendans, 249
Aux Filles Dieu et aux Beguines, 250
Savoureux morceaulx et fryans, 251
Chappons, flaons, grasses gelines, 252 ABF:Flaon(A Faucons B Flacons) ch. gr. g.
Et puis prescher les .XV. signes 253 cf.Quinze signes
Et abatre pain a deux mains. 254
Carmes chevauchent noz voisines, 255
Mais cela, ce n'est que du mains. 256 BC:du moins

XXXIII

Item, laisse le Mortier d'or 257
A Jehan, l'espicier, de la Garde, 258
Une potence de sainct Mor, 259
Pour faire ung broyer a moustarde. 260
Et celluy qui fist l'avantgarde 261 AF:A celuy
Pour faire sur moy griefz exploiz : 262
De par moy, saint Anthoine l'arde ! 263
- Je ne luy feray autre laiz. 264

XXXIV

Item, je lesse a Mirebeuf 265 BFI:malebeuf A:merebeuf
Et a Nicolas de Louviers, 266
A chacun l'escaille d'un oeuf 267
Plaine de francs et d'escus vieulx. 268
Quant au concierge de Gouvieulx, 269
Pierre de Rousseville, ordonne, 270
Pour le donner entendre mieulx, 271 C:Pour ly donner encore mieulx
Escus telz que le Prince donne. 272 CI:que prince les donne

XXXV

Finablement, en escripvant, 273
Ce soir, seulet, estant en bonne, 274
Dictant ces laiz et descripvant, 275 A:ce laiz
J'ouys la cloche de Serbonne, 276 AI:sarbonne
Qui tous jours a neuf heures sonne 277
Le salut que l'ange predit ; 278
Si suspendis et mis en bonne 279 C:en borne A:y mis bourne
Pour prier comme le cueur dit. 280

XXXVI-IX Manque dans C et I. Texte reproduit d'apr鑚 F

XXXVI

Ce faisant, je m'entroubliay, 281 A:m'entrobli
Non pas par force de vin boire, 282
Mon esperit comme l. 283
Lors je sentis dame Memoire 284
Reprendre et mectre en son aulmoire 285 B(Duf):Respondre
Ses especes colaterales, 286
Oppinative faulse et voire 287
Et autres intellectualles, 288

XXXVII

Et meismement l'estimative, 289
Par quoy prospective nous vient, 290
Simulative, formative, 291
Desquelles souvent il advient 292
Que, par leur trouble, homme devient 293 F:par leur court
Fol et lunatique par moys ; 294
Je l'ay leu, se bien m'en souvient, 295
En Aristote aucunesfois. 296

XXXVIII

Dont le sensitif s'esvailla 297 B:Donc
Et esvertua Fantaisie, 298 F:Et esmeut toute la fan.
Qui les organes resveilla, 299 B:Qui tous argentis r. F:org. tout troubla
Et tint la souveraine partie 300
En suspens et comme mortie 301 AB:amortie
Par oppresson d'oubliance, 302
Qui en moy s'estoit espartie 303
Pour monstrer de Sens la lance. 304 F:sens la science

XXXIX

Puis que mon sens fut a repos 305 F:lors que mon sang fut
Et l'entendement desmell, 306 F:Et mon sentement
Je cuiday finer mon propos, 307
Mais mon ancr trouvay gel 308
Et mon cierge trouvay souffl ; 309 B:estoit souffl A:tr. fresl
De feu je n'eusse peu finer, 310 A:Et n'eusse peu de finer
Si m'endormis, tout enmoufl, 311 F:boursouffl A:C'estoit ass駸 tartevel
Et ne peuz autrement finer. 312 F:Pour tant il me convient finer

XL

Fait au temps de ladite datte 313
Par le bien renomm Villon, 314 CI(Duf):bon renomm
Qui ne mengue figue ne datte, 315
Sec et noir comme escouvillon ; 316
Il n'a tente ne pavillon 317
Qu'il n'ait lessi a ses amis, 318
Et n'a mais q'un peu de billon 319
Qui sera tantost a fin mis. 320 C:en la fin mis





Editions
(except celles de Thuasne et de Longnon-Foulet, etc.) :

Rychener, J. et Henry, A. : Testament Villon, Le Lais Villon et les Po鑪es vari駸, Index , Droz, 1974,1977,1985 5vols
Thiry, Claude : Fran輟is Villon Po駸ies compl鑼es, Le Livre de Poche "Lettres gothiques", 1991
Lanly, Andr : Villon : Oeuvres Texte et traduction, Honor Champion, 1991
Dufournet, Jean : Fran輟is Villon Po駸ies, Flammarion, 1992
Sargent-Baur, Barbara N. : Fran輟is Villon Complete Poems, University of Tronto Press, 1994


[ Texte de Villon]

NAME:うみほたる 2000年01月13日 18時38分55秒
明日は 晴れるかな?
サーフボード片手にカレはつぶやく
その笑顔に惚れたんだ

明日は ナミ高いかな?
カレの恋人は海だとおもう
決してワタシじゃない

そのサーフボードのために
ワタシは何回街角で立った?
刹那的に今日を生きるために
君は仕事に就かないのか?

そんなんじゃイケないよね
でも ワタシは弱い
現実を見るのが恐い

今日もカレと海を見て
天国への階段を連想する

たとえそれが
幻想であっても

たとえそれが
13段であっても

NAME:あおい 2000年01月13日 18時37分53秒
やっと書き込めた!
ひどいなぁ
見た感じは荒らしです。でも本人が違うと主張するなら違うんでしょう。
でも見た感じは荒らしだなぁ(^^;

NAME:清原 2000年01月13日 18時36分53秒
ここも終わりかな、とつぶやく清原

NAME:たん3 2000年01月13日 18時35分51秒
あらあらしい海がいいなと牧原

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