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Ezra Pound

Ezra Pound

We Shall Surely Die

We shall surely die:
Must we needs grow old?
Grow old and cold,
And we know not why?
 
O, the By-and-By,
And the tale that’s told!
We shall surely die:
Must we needs grow old?
 
Grow old and sigh,
Grudge and withhold,
Resent and scold?…
Not you and I?
We shall surely die!

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Translations and Adaptations From Heine

FROM '€˜DIE HEIMKEHR’ Is your hate, then, of such measur… Do you, truly, so detest me? Through all the world will I comp… Of how you have addressed me.
 1
Au Salon

Her grave, sweet haughtiness Pleaseth me, and in like wise Her quiet ironies. Others are beautiful, none more, s… I suppose, when poetry comes down…
And Thus in Nineveh

Aye! I am a poet and upon my tomb Shall maidens scatter rose leaves And men myrtles, ere the night Slays day with her dark sword. ‘Lo! this thing is not mine
The Tomb At Akr Çaar

«I am thy soul, Nikoptis. I have… These five millennia, and thy dead… Moved not, nor ever answer my desi… And thy light limbs, wherethrough… Burn not with me nor any saffron t…
Night Litany

O Dieu, purifiez nos cceurs! Purifiez nos coeurs! Yea the lines hast thou laid unto… in pleasant places, And the beauty of this thy Venice
Women Before a Shop

The gew-gaws of false amber and fa… ‘Like to like nature’: these agglu…
Threnos

IN o more for us the little sighi… No more the winds at twilight trou… Lo the fair dead! No more do I burn. No more for us the fluttering of w…
The Nightingale Has a Lyre of Gold

The nightingale has a lyre of gold… The lark’s is a clarion-call, And the blackbird plays but a boxw… But I love him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of…
The Flame

’Tis not a game that plays at mate… Provençe knew; ’Tis not a game of barter, lands a… Provençe knew. We who are wise beyond your dream…
The Eyes

Rest Master, for we be a-weary, w… And would feel the fingers of the… Upon these lids that lie over us Sodden and lead-heavy. Rest brother, for lo! the dawn is…
The Skies Are Strown With Stars

The skies are strown with stars, The streets are fresh with dew A thin moon drifts to westward, The night is hushed and cheerful. My thought is quick with you.
The Past Was Goodly Once

The Past was goodly once, and yet… The best of it we know is that it’… Dwindled and faded quite, perished… Nothing is left at last of what on… Coming back like a ghost, staring…
And the Days Are Not Full Enough

And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mou… Not shaking the grass
 4
When You Wake in Your Crib

When you wake in your crib, You, an inch of experience - Vaulted about With the wonder of darkness; Wailing and striving
Ancient Music

Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm. Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ramm! Sing: Goddamm.



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