Tag Archives: Love

Naming of Parts

To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
And to-day we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For to-day we have naming of parts.

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A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
the sap has ascended my arms,
the tree has grown in my breast – downward,
the branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are, moss you are,
you are violets with wind above them.
A child – so high – you are,
and all this is folly to the world.

Ezra Pound

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Ya en mi vejez
y entrado en añoranzas
que el paso de largos años
no ha podido resolver
ni absolver,
Me traiciona la memoria.
Me trae recuerdos de ti
a donde yo me creía escondido
y los deja a mis pies
como un ratoncito muerto.
Y soy yo quien tiene que mirarle
a los ojos
Nublados y de vidrio
como los míos
Y ya sin promesas de lágrimas
como los míos.
Se han dejado caer todas las
Palabras e intenciones vanas,
Las locas esperanzas
y las esperas enloquecidas.
Yacen todas
Tiradas en el suelo
Como este ratoncito muerto,
Como el amor que te tenía,
Como el yo que fui y ya no soy.

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