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Your Laughter - Pablo Neruda

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die. 

All The World's A Stage


All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

Dante - Michelangelo

What should be said of him cannot be said; 
By too great splendor is his name attended; 
To blame is easier than those who him offended, 
Than reach the faintest glory round him shed. 
This man descended to the doomed and dead 
For our instruction; then to God ascended; 
Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid, 
Who from his country's, closed against him, fled. 
Ungrateful land! To its own prejudice 
Nurse of his fortunes; and this showeth well 
That the most perfect most of grief shall see. 
Among a thousand proofs let one suffice, 
That as his exile hath no parallel, 
Ne'er walked the earth a greater man than he. 

A Dream Within A Dream


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Edgar Allan Poe

A Fairy Song

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 

William Shakespeare

For A Boy Who Will Never Love Me The Same Way I Love Him

I'm just so tired
Of not being important
And I thought you would be
The one to change that, but stupid me
I shouldn't have expected that much
From anyone, stupid me, I should
have known I'll never mean
A thing to you, stupid me
I should've known I would have ended up
Emptying my tears
For a boy who will never love me
The same way I love him

Then..

A girl who was weary. Cursed to forever watch the sun replace the moon A boy who took her into his arms and quieted the world as she slept


P.S Ini untuk kamu penulis, untuk Lennon saya hahaha. Eh,Lennon kita semua
She was the girl afraid to let him look into her eyes...
He was the boy who shared his rose colored glasses

What if?

"What if I fall?"






"Oh darling, what if you fly?"




- xx
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