Heartbreaking poems

[Anonymous No.18941698]

He dismounted and offered him the drink
of farewell. He asked him where
he was heading, and also why he had to go.
He spoke, and his voice was soft with tears:
“My friend,
fortune was not kind to me in this world.
Where am I going? I go to travel in the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I’ll turn toward home, where I belong.
I will never stray far.
My heart is calm and awaits its hour.
Everywhere, the beloved earth
blooms in the spring and
is newly green! Everywhere and forever
the distances are blue and bright!
Forever . . . forever . . . ”

[Anonymous No.18941980]

>>18941698
"WHALES could be here," he thought. "I've never been in these waters before. There could be WHALES anywhere." The cool wind felt good against his peg leg. "I HATE WHALES," he thought.

[Anonymous No.18941987]

The Ancient Mariner's burden of guilt even after he's earned forgiveness:

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen—

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring—
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

[Anonymous No.18941993]

>>18941980
Based

[Anonymous No.18941995]

How shall I behold the face
Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy
And rapture so oft beheld? Those heavenly shapes
Will dazzle now this earthly with their blaze
Insufferably bright. O might I here
In solitude live savage, in some glade
Obscured, where highest woods, impenetrable
To star or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad
And brown as evening; cover me, ye pines;
Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs
Hide me, where I may never see them more.

[Anonymous No.18942003]

Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

[Anonymous No.18942004]

THOSE friends of Lao-Tzu, those wise old men
Dozing all day in lemon-silken robes,
With tomes of beaten jade spread knee to knee,
And pipe-stem, shining cold with silver, poised
In steaming play, and still a finger free
To dog the path of some forgotten pen;
Almost their bee-sweet ancient words incline
My mind to those old pagan ways, beloved
By mandarins and mages, now but dust
In drowsy pyramids. What creed is this,

Save that which those philosophers discussed
In gold pavilions, over musky wine?
'Repenting always of forgotten wrongs
Will never bring thy heart to rest, for thought
Repairs no whit of evil; rather cast
Thy meditations in that utter void
To which all human deeds resolve at last . . . .'
So runs the burden of their thousand songs.
Here, in this dark Star-Chamber of the soul,
You stand arraigned, O slayer of my heart . . .

But I am tired of hoarding up the grist
Of anger, and remember Lao-Tzu.
Revenge is empty to the Taoist,
And tears of penitence a futile toll!

[Anonymous No.18942026]

This must be one of the most heartbreaking poems I've read
十年生死兩茫茫
不思量自難忘
千裡孤墳無處話淒涼
縱使相逢應不識
塵滿面鬢如霜
夜來幽夢忽還鄕
小軒窗正梳妝
相顧無言唯有淚千行
料得年年腸斷處
明月夜短鬆岡
Here's one translation:
https://williampcoleman.wordpress.com/2008/01/03/su-tung-po-dreaming-of-my-deceased-wife-on-the-night-of-the-20th-day-of-the-first-month/

[Anonymous No.18942048]

>>18942026
Jesus. What is it about Chinese poems? Please post more.

[Anonymous No.18942152]

>>18942048
https://zh.wikisource.org/wiki/琵琶行
And three different translations:
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Gems_of_Chinese_Literature/Pŏ_Chü-yi-The_Lute-Girl’s_Lament
http://www.liufangmusic.net/English/pipa_song.html
https://gansiowcklee.blogspot.com/2010/12/pipa-xing-by-bai-juyi-tang-dynasty.html

[Anonymous No.18942158]

>>18942152
Based, thank you.