/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.22894802]

I want some poems that have something of nostalgia and silent sadness in them. I would like them to have some relation to the New Year or the passage of time, but if they don’t that’s fine too.

I want poems with the same feeling as the one in my pic.

[Anonymous No.22894894]

>>22894802
كلماتنا في الحب... تقتل حبنا
إن الحروف تموت حين تقال
Our words in love... kill our love
For letters die when they are said
-Nizar Qabbani

وقوفا بها علي مطيهم
يقولون لا تهلك أسى وتجمل

وإن شفائي عبرة مهراقة
فهل عند درس دارس من معول

My friends stopped their mounts there over me
Telling me: “Don’t die of grief, control yourself!”

“There is no cure for me but pouring tears,
And is there a better place to weep than the worn traces of a ruined abode?”
-Imru' Al-Qais


In her absence, I created her image: out of the earthly
The hidden heavenly commences. I am here weighing
The expanse with the Jahili Mu'allaqat...absence is
The guide, it is the guide. For every rhyme I built
A tent. And for everything in the wind
A rhyme. Absence teaches me its lessons. "If it weren't for
the mirage you wouldn't have endured..."and in the emptiness
I disassembled a letter from the old alphabets,
And I leaned on the absence, so who am I after
The visitation? A bird or a passerby between the symbols
And the vendors of memory? I am like an artifact,
And I am like a ghost who snuck from yabous,and I said to myself:
Let's go to the seven hills. So I placed
My masks on a stone, so I walked a walk as
The asleep led by my dream. And from moon to
Moon I leapt. There is enough of unconscious
To liberate the things from their history. And there
Is enough of history to liberate the unconsciousness
From its ascension "take me to our first
years" - says my first (girl)friend. "Leave
the window open to let the periodic bird enter
your dream"...then I awaken, no city in
The city. No 'here' except 'there'. And no
There except here. If not for the mirage
I wouldn't have walked to the seven hills...
If it were not for the mirage.
-Mahmoud Darwish

[Anonymous No.22895048]

In a world of grief and pain
Flowers bloom
Even then

Issa