Sorrow Poems
February Morning
by Hayden Carruth
The old man takes a nap
too soon in the morning.
His coffee cup grows cold.
Outside the snow falls fast.
He'll not go out today.
Others must clear the way
to the car and the shed.
Open upon his lap
......
No One Would Follow
by Lee-Ann Azzopardi
I hung my head between my thigh
With my hand behind it
I pulled it back
As though, I was doing a sit-up
But it didn't stop the tears
Just made me pull out my back
I wipe them to hide my sorrow
For no one would show any sympathy
Be a woman, Lee-Ann
Cut out the nonsense
......
The Seafarer
by Ezra Pound
(From the early Anglo-Saxon text)
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 abided,
Known on my keel many a care's hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted,
......
Village Song
by Sarojini Naidu
HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?
Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the köil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen!
Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-scented leisure.
......
The Two Men
by Thomas Hardy
THERE were two youths of equal age,
Wit, station, strength, and parentage;
They studied at the self-same schools,
And shaped their thoughts by common rules.
One pondered on the life of man,
His hopes, his endings, and began
To rate the Market's sordid war
As something scarce worth living for.
......
No One Would Follow
by Lee-Ann Azzopardi
I hung my head between my thigh
With my hand behind it
I pulled it back
As though, I was doing a sit-up
But it didn't stop the tears
Just made me pull out my back
I wipe them to hide my sorrow
For no one would show any sympathy
Be a woman, Lee-Ann
Cut out the nonsense
......
Een verdrietig verhaal
by Mario Odekerken
I--Het zwijgen--
Ik draag het verdriet zonder het te noemen.
Het ligt stil onder mijn woorden.
Niemand ziet hoe zwaar de stilte wordt.
Ik glimlach alsof er niets ontbreekt.
II--De barst--
Maar soms breekt er iets open in de nacht.
......
Verdronken in de zee van verdriet
by Mario Odekerken
Ik dreef te lang op golven van herinneringen,
zonder te weten waar de kust nog lag.
De stilte om mij heen werd dieper,
en de horizon verloor haar licht.
Elke gedachte trok mij verder naar beneden,
alsof verdriet zijn eigen getijden kent.
Ik zocht naar adem tussen verloren momenten,
maar vond alleen de echo van gemis.
......
Vreemdeling in eigen land
by Mario Odekerken
Ik loop door straten
die ooit mijn naam kenden,
maar de huizen kijken zwijgend
langs mij heen.
De stemmen klinken bekend,
toch mis ik de betekenis,
alsof iedereen hier
een andere taal heeft geleerd.
......
Gefesselt in Betäubung
by Mario Odekerken
Krabbelnd durch einen Schlamm aus Glitzern
weint mein Schatten in der Kulisse.
Ihr Silhouette schreit,
mein Blick nur auf die Flasche.
Ihr Inhalt stilt meine Lust,
das Glas schneidet entlang meiner Leere.
Gefallen in die Dunkelheit der Lockrufe,
fliehend von Hotel zu Herberge.
......
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Frances Ellen Wat Harper (14 poems about Sorrow)
24 September 1825 – 22 February 1911 / Baltimore, Maryland -
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