On the Beach at Night

On the Beach at Night, by Walt Whitman

 

On the beach at night,

Stands a child with her father,

Watching the east, the autumn sky.

 

Up through the darkness,

While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses

     spreading,

Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky,

Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,

Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter,

And nigh at hand, only a very little above,

Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.

 

From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,

Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,

Watching, silently weeps.

 

Weep not, my child,

Weep not, my darling,

With these kisses let me remove your tears,

The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,

They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only

      in apparition,

Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the

     Pleiades shall emerge,

They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall

     shine out again,

The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they

     endure,

The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons

     shall again shine.

 

Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter?

Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

 

Something there is,

(With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,

I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)

Something there is more immortal than the stars,

(Many the burials, many the days and night, passing away,)

Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter,

Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,

Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

 

Submitted by Elana Abrams

The Assignation

 

After the winter thawed, I rose,

Remembering what you said. Below the field

Where I was dead, the crinkled leaf and blade

Summoned my body, told me I must go.

Across the road I saw some other dead

Revive their little fires, and bow the head

To someone still alive and long ago.

Low in the haze a pall of smoke arose

 

 

You sat beside the bed, you took my hands;

And when I lay beyond all speech, you said,

You swore to love me after I was dead,

To meet me in the grove and love me still,

Love the white air, the shadow where I lay.

Dear love, I called your name in air today,

I saw the picnic vanish down the hill,

And waved the moon awake, with empty hands.

 

 

The first and last stanzas of James Wrights poem The Assignation

 

 

Posted by: Shanna Giampietro

 

 

 

The Perfect Friend

The Perfect Friend
by Shannen Wrass

Today I found a friend
who knew everything I felt
she knew my weakness
and the problems I've been dealt.
She understood my wonders
and listened to my dreams,
she listened to how I felt about life and love
and knew what it all means.
Not once did she interrupt me
or tell me I was wrong
she understood what I was going through
and promised she'd stay long.
I reached out to this friend,
to show her that I care
to pull her close and let her know
how much I need her there.
I went to hold her hand
to pull her a bit nearer
and I realized this perfect friend I found
was nothing but a mirror.

 

British Lit.-- Kathy Vieira

michael nelson's poem i also sent a rose that grew from concrete(tupac) and drams(langston hughs)

Alone

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don't believe I'm wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. There are some millionaires With money they can't use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They've got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Now if you listen closely I'll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, 'Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Maya Angelou

Dialética & Brighter and Clearer

Dialética by Vinicius de Moraes (with my rough translation)

É claro que a vida é boa
E a alegria, a única indizível emoção
É claro que te acho linda
Em ti bendigo o amor das coisas simples
É claro que te amo
E tenho tudo para ser feliz
Mas acontece que eu sou triste...

Of course life is good
And happiness, the only indescribable emotion
Of course I think you are beautiful
You bless me with the love of the little things
Of course I love you
And I have everything to be happy
But it happens that I am sad

 ---------------

Brighter and Clearer by Ellen Kennedy

After I have an orgasm my body feels like a sombrero-shaped galaxy slowly expanding in the eyepiece of a 4^th grader's telescope

After I watch a family of lions tear apart the body of a large deer on the Discovery Channel I feel a calming sense of inferiority

After I watch a horror movie I can't go to the bathroom without you holding my hand while I pee

After I take my vegan dietary supplement my piss is brighter and clearer

After I kiss your eyelids my lungs squeeze out through my ribs, then through my belly button and slowly fly to your face and push very lightly on your cheeks

After I forget something I said I would remember my brain becomes a roll of vegetable futomaki that an obese chinchilla is trying to eat all in one bite

After I make you cry one of my organs melts into a runny paste that trickles down the inside of my body and collects at the bottom of my feet

After I make you feel indifferent towards me my heart turns into a small desert hamster running very quickly on an exercise wheel and then tripping and then spinning around in distress until the wheel stops and the hamster can get up and try running again, but in a more conscious and concerned way

------------

Submitted by Vinny DaSilva... and some thoughts below

Vinicius de Moraes is a very well known Brazilian Poet and Composer - Probably best known for writing the original Portuguese lyrics to "Girl from Ipanema". To me, a lot of his poetry feels very magical and lovely, this one piece stuck out to me because it feels as if the poet wants to be in a positive state of enjoying all that love has to offer, but is hit with the realization that his deep and true emotion is not aligned with it.

Ellen Kennedy is a young American poet just starting her career. She just had her first book (Sometimes my Heart Pushes my Ribs) published this year via an independent publishing company, Muumuu House. Her poetry carries a certain amount of awkwardness or bareness that can be hard to find, yet it is always around us. I feel that sort of writing makes it so the reader can really relate to the emotions because the emotions are so "human"...  it's not perfect and gracious, it's just raw and bare and I think that "Brighter and Clearer" is a great example of what I like about Kennedy's poetry... its personal, true, and does not try to be pretty with flowery words. I also enjoy how Kennedy goes through a range of emotions before landing on what it really is that she wants to express, tying in the entire poem into one coherant thought, when at first read the lines all seem to be sepperate and almost self-sufficient.

Deja Vu

Déjà vu

 

The rich golden meadow

Glistens with crystal beads from the nights sweat, which

Cling to my desiccated shoes like a newborn grasps the finger of her Mother.

Or, perhaps like chunky peanut butter in curly locks.

And there she is.

 

What are you doing here?

Driftwood lips land stranded on the sandy beach.

Thirsty for the salty water of the ocean, they part thinly upon my presence.

Wild grey stallion eyes devour their foal and,

Gallop with defiance, as any free beast should.

 

She buries herself, remaining unseen, as

Delicate, muddied raindrops of an acid shower cascade down a weathered cheek.

And delusions,vibrant with the crimsons of anger.

And those eyes, diluted with molten marble fuming from bygones.

And the past is the present, and her future is the past.

But present is nothing but an unwanted gift, anyway.

 

She had a dream once… No, many times!

But dreams are often had to be broken.

So, she envisioned another, which became her life, and

Now she dreams of living.

 

The wind wisps between two worlds, twirling carelessly amongst them.

It speaks to her, whispering stories of her past and

Mine, hints at rumors and words of gossip and fantasies that must be true.

I don’t speak the language of the Wind, a dialect as old as Father Time.

But she interprets for me, incidents I cannot recollect and oh,

My! What a delightful day! What a striking sun, and

How the autumn air cools my skin! Do I have my homework? I should

Probably get her something to eat, but wait…

What are you doing here?

 

I won’t go back.

It took me two days to walk here, and I am not going back

 

Stephanie Nguyen

 

Stephanie Nguyen EN102-006

Poem (Bruno Horst)

PERSEVERANCE

When the veil of darkness has draped itself around your life and concealed the tears of your pain and despair, when the destiny you had envisaged has all but faded like water amongst the golden sands of the desert, when you stand alone in your hour of adversity and need and no-one is willing to stand beside you, when the battles within your life are on the verge of defeat and ruin, when you are in exile within your own mind, when your heart is empty and is merely watered by the tears of your agonized and anguished soul. When you feel like a bird caged behind bars which once flew high above snow capped mountains free and unhindered and now reach out to touch the essence of your dreams, when tears and sorrow have embraced your soul, when the temples of your dreams lie in ashes like the ruins of an ancient age gone by and there are no traces of your footsteps within the valley of your dreams. When the haunting silence of the darkness hangs like a shadow within the depths of your heart. When you cling like a child to the dreams of yesterday, when the light of dawn refuses to appear and the sun refuses to shine, when each day has become an eternal struggle to survive. When there is no light amongst the darkness within your existence, when your wounds cry out to be healed, when fear has held courage ransom, when your soul stands in solitude and loneliness choking on its tears of isolation under a moon which no longer smiles and no longer yearns to gaze at his children; the stars, when all those around you have betrayed you, when love has left your heart and refuses to return. When you no longer believe in yourself, when pain and grief are your constant companions, when there is no vision within the mists of your agony, when no one is willing to listen to and understand you, when peace seems to be in a distant world, when life no longer has the belief to run within your veins, when you have become a fugitive within your own mind and shackled like a slave within your own insanity, refuse with every last drop of sacred blood within your bruised and battered body, to surrender your soul to the pains of your existence. You must believe in yourself-even if all those around you doubt you and in your ability to rise from within the insanity in which your life now finds itself and to stand tall against the obstacles and challenges within your life-and you will conquer all that you believe cannot be conquered and all that which you believed you had lost within your life. It is from the darkest hours of our lives, from the depths of our despair and pain and in our greatest hour of adversity that we find an inner strength, an inner courage and an inner meaning so vast that it enables us to rise from our knees and stand tall and fight that which has made us weak. Just as water runs from a stream, as the oak tree grows strong and upright, as snow-the softest and most peaceful of natures elements-covers the most fierce of mountains and tames its anger portraying it merely as a pawn within the hands of nature so new life and meaning will emerge from your own inner source. Do not at any cost surrender your life to the weaknesses within your life. Do not surrender your life to the mediocre thoughts of others; do not surrender the belief you hold in yourself and in your abilities, do not surrender the dreams that you have worked so hard to hold within the palms of your hands. For what right do others have to judge another's dreams for they have not walked a mile in your shoes! There are no limits to your courage and determination. The only limitations are those that we place upon ourselves. Our thoughts make the world what we want it to be. Mold your thought into a weapon of immense power. Wipe away the tears from your heart and let your life be brushed by the fingertips of your immortal soul, breathe deep, with purpose and a deep held conviction. There is an inner strength and an inner peace within us all, which the world cannot penetrate and the hypocrisy and ignorance of the human mind cannot poison. Embrace that inner source of strength and you will become fearless and the obstacles within your life will seem insignificant. You must be undisturbed and stern in your resolve that you are a creature so versatile and resilient that you cannot be defeated and you must hold firm in the conviction that you will not be defeated. You are a creature of boundless beauty and perseverance. You are a creature which can and which will endure. There is nothing that you cannot achieve and there is nothing that you do not have the ability to overcome within your life. Harness the power of your mind for it is your greatest barrier. You are an individual of immense courage within the battlefield of life and there is no greater battle than that which will be fought with your own life. You must not, despite the pain, the despair, the grief, the intensity, the loneliness within your life, surrender the very essence of your dignity and hope to the enemy which hovers around you in pursuit of conquering both your mind and your soul. I do not believe in defeat because defeat does not believe in me. I do not believe in fear for I am fearless. I do not believe in pain for I find strength in the weaknesses of my enemies. Within the mist of your despair and the obstacles and challenges that life presents before you be calm and peaceful. An angry and misguided mind will make decisions and judgment based on haste and anger which in the long run will continue to merely add to your suffering whereas the peaceful mind within that moment of insanity will have the ability to bring forth a clear, reasoned judgment and solution to the challenges at hand. No one owns you so you have not lost anything. Only you can give away or surrender all that you hold to the challenges within your life. Control your mind from its aimless wandering within your own insanity-guide it to think positively and with purpose. Once you have conquered your mind you will also introduce yourself to an inner peace, which will bring meaning and a freedom to both your life and thought. Do not kneel before anyone for your knees were not made for such purposes, they were made for the purpose of enabling you to stand upright! Be like an elephant, which once upright will not easily be brought to its knees! Adapt your mind, thinking, actions and life to the challenges, which have surrounded your existence. You and you alone hold the foundations of your dreams and your destiny in the way you approach the challenges and obstacles within your life. Do not falter in the face of adversity; rise to the challenge however difficult it may be. Your difficulties will only be difficult if you believe them to be difficult. How can you fear that which you have never challenged? Endure and challenge the pains of your existence for freedom will wait for you and it will eventually embrace you. In defeating the challenges within your life continue to be a good person, do not become like your enemies for to do so will deprive your soul of the peace it desires. You must be like the seasons of the year ever changing, ever adapting, ever growing, and ever challenging. Nature is always in constant change, the old give way to the new, and this is the course of life. Yet within this existence life continues, it evolves and continues to grow despite its pains. Your time has not yet come to let nature embrace you in its totality, so go forth into the wilderness of your life and reclaim what mother nature granted you at birth; the right to dream, the right to live and the right to be who you want to be. Challenge with the might of your mind and your inner strength all the barriers that your existence places at the gates of your destiny. If you don't risk anything, you risk even more! For within the midst of our suffering there is a meaning! Carl Jung  Copyright © 2001 Naresh Jhali (England)   (Bruno Horst)

ON THE PULSE OF MORNING

On the Pulse of Morning 

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

By Maya Angelou

Liana Arakelyan

A Friend

What is a true friend?

One you don't always mend.

You can't change the past,

Kick it under the grass.

Friends are there for you,

not there to hurt you.

They should know when wrong

then sing your favorite song.

Telling lies and rumor spreading,

then sleeping in their bedding.

I find sleeping hard now,

hope they took a bow.

True frends don't hurt me,

They're always there, unconditionally.

 

Kate Glencross, Whalen EN102

 

"Butterfly"

She had beautiful eyes,

Eyes I'd never seen cry.

August 7, day to die?

Woken up, tears in eyes.

Was delerious the entire day,

How's there such a way?

The age was only sixteen,

First we all felt mean.

Confusion and headaches were there,

Friends can't let YOU tear.

Well, don't cry Ms. Butterfly,

Our hearts you'll never die.

 

Kate Glencross, Whalen EN102

"I'll Never Hurt You"

It's been almost eight months

Mostly the times were fun.

There were things we did,

and a bunch we hid.

Now am I the one,

To smile or be dumb?

I'm told it's not right.

Please come to my sight.

Fights followed with many screams,

Following them are bad dreams.

Guess I'm used to lies,

and those types of guys.

My father was to begin,

I'm letting him now win.

Told I'd never get hurt,

embarassed to wear a skirt.

Don't know the right path,

cannot do the simple math.

So, you'll never hurt me?

Alright, well, woe is me.

 

Kate Glencross, Whalen EN102

A Poem Traveled Down My Arm by Alice Walker

Do

 

not be

 

a

 

miracle

 

of

 

affliction

 

to

 

the

 

world.

 

 

                Alice Walker

 

 

 

 

Diane

 

 

Diane Harper

Professor

Humanities Department

Writing and Literature Department

 

another poem

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. Langston Hughes

poem

The Rose that Grew from Concrete

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk with out having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared. Tupac Shakur

The Last Rose

The Last Rose

 

If I die, I want this rose on my grave,

Down below, trapped in a cave.

                                                         You look at me for one last time,

Everyone standing in a crippled line.

 

You look at me with such sorrow,

You won’t see me tomorrow.

It’s where I shall rest for all eternity,

Down below with my dignity.

 

So goodbye my friend, do not cry,

I won’t be returning, I will not lie.

                                                            Do not be sad, do not worry,

I’ve taken all my heart could carry.

 

Smile for me, for one last time,

For I’ll remember our memories down the line.

We’ll meet again, some day, some time,

Trust me when I say you’ll be fine.

 

Till then, my friend,

Till the, I’ll send,

Hugs and kisses,

And the best times we’ve spent.

 

- Ani Keshishyan

An Irish Airman Foresees his Death.

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

 

Poem by W.B.Yeats

Interesting tidbits-This was written in response to the death in World War One of Major Robert Gregory who was a friend of Yeats.

-This poem was also adapted by the band, Keane in their 2006 song, A Bad Dream. The poem was read before each performance of the song during their recent tours.

Submitted by Geoffrey Farrell

The New Jerusalem

The New Jerusalem
William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builder here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my charriot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

British literature 206
Professor Whalen
From: Pharah dubuisson Lefevre

Inaugural Poem

Inaugural Poem
Maya Angelou
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveler, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
 From: Pharah Dubuisson
British literature 206
Professor Whalen

Dear Mama

Now ain't nobody tell us it was fair
No love from my daddy cause the coward wasn't there
He passed away and I didn't cry, cause my anger
wouldn't let me feel for a stranger
They say I'm wrong and I'm heartless, but all along
I was lookin for a father he was gone
I love payin rent when the rent's due
I hope ya got the diamond necklace that I sent to you
Cause when I was low you was there for me
And never left me alone because you cared for me
And I could see you comin home after work late
You're in the kitchen tryin to fix us a hot plate
Ya just workin with the scraps you was given
And mama made miracles every Thanksgivin
But now the road got rough, you're alone
You're tryin to raise two bad kids on your own
And there's no way I can pay you back
But my plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated
 
By: 2pac shakur aka Lesane Parish Crooks
Submitted by Ali Al Oraifan

---

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Adieu Mon Pays

Adieu Mon Pays

J'ai quitté mon pays, j'ai quitté ma maison
Ma vie, ma triste vie se traîne sans raison
J'ai quitté mon soleil, j'ai quitté ma mer bleue
Leurs souvenirs se reveillent, bien après mon adieu
Soleil, soleil de mon pays perdu
La ville blanche que j'aimais, des filles que j'ai jadis connu
J'ai quitté une amie, je vois encore ses yeux
ses yeus mouillés de pluie, de la pluie de l'adieu
Je revois son sourire, s y près de mon visage
Il faisait resplendir les soires de mon village
Mais du bord du bateau, qui m'éloignait du quai
Une chaîne dans l'eau a claqué comme un foet
J'ai longtemps regardé ses yeux bleus qui fouillent
La mer les a noyé dans le flot du regret

Goodbye My Country

I left my country, I left my house
My life, my sad life, drags without reason.
I left my sun, I left my blue sea -
Their memories reawaken in me, well after my good-bye.
Sun, sun of my lost country,
White cities which I loved, girls that I used to know…
I left a friend, I still see her eyes,
Her eyes rainy wet, with the rain of good-bye
I see her smile again, so close to my face
As it illumined the evenings of my village.
But on board the boat, which took me away from the quay
A chain in the water beat the water like mad
While I looked intently at her blue eyes which plumbed the sea
Drowned in the flood of regret…
Enrico Macias (1962)

Domenica Rizza
Prof. Whalen EN102 013