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A Vision

The dark of chaos comes, land, sky and water merging...
Soul of the Muse; all else is dead...

 

 

by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

 

 

Silentium 

 

 

Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal

the way you dream, the things you feel.

Deep in your spirit let them rise

akin to stars in crystal skies

that set before the night is blurred:

delight in them and speak no word.

How can a heart expression find?

How should another know your mind?

Will he discern what quickens you?

A thought once uttered is untrue.

Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:

drink at the source and speak no word.

Live in your inner self alone

within your soul a world has grown,

the magic of veiled thoughts that might

be blinded by the outer light,

drowned in the noise of day, unheard...

take in their song and speak no word. 

 

 

 

My Love For You, Sweet Earth 

 

 

My love for you, sweet Earth, my mother,

I cannot hide - I do not crave

The phantom pleasures of that other,

That spectral world beyond the grave.

O spring, the blessedness of Eden

Compared to yours as nothing is!

Love's joys you bring us all unbidden,

And golden dreams, and light, and bliss.

 

What rapture to drink in the balmy,

Warm air of spring, to languor wed,

And watch the clouds drift slowly, calmly

High in the blueness overhead;

To wander happily and idly

Across a field and past a stream,

To catch the scent of blooming lilac

Or chance upon a radiant dream!.. 

 

 

A Vision 

 

 

 

There is an hour at night full of an awesome wonder,

When universal silence o'er the whole world lies

And when the cosmic chariot rolls, wakening no thunder,

Into the sanctuary of the skies.

 

The dark of chaos comes, land, sky and water merging;

Sleep Atlas-like treads earth, its weight like lead;

The gods with dreams prophetic fire the virgin

Soul of the Muse; all else is dead. 

 

 

 

 

Autumn Evening 

 

 

 

There is a wistful charm, a tenderness,

Mysterious and soft, in autumn's even:

The trees in weird and brilliant garments dress,

The gory leaves to whispered talk are given;

Above the sad and orphaned earth the skies

Lie veiled and bleak, the sun's departure mourning,

And gusty winds with sudden anger rise,

Of pending storms the grim and chilly warning...

Fatigue, decline, and - over all - the worn

And wasting spirit's smile, doomed soon to vanish,

That lights a sufferer's face and that is born

Of modesty, the godlike pride of anguish. 

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