In the Hours of the Night

Posts tagged poetry

19 notes

Bluebeard

This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed… . Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see… . Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Filed under Edna St. Vincent Millay Bluebeard sonnet poem poetry American poetry

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A Courtesan’s Song, Sung When She Believed She Was Unheard


O my love, you should have come, this rainy afternoon!
All morning I rocked alone in my orchid boat;
My sails are all crumpled and damp with spray.

All day I put nothing in my mouth
But sweet ginger tea and the stem
of my pipe. O my love, you should have come!
My hair exhales its perfume.

O my love, you should have come!
I peeled grapes and lychees and dropped them
into glasses of sweet wine, waiting for you.
My chamber is empty, but in its cage my beautiful bird sings.

O my love, you should have come—
My bed is draggled—I am eaten up with hunger—
My hair is unwashed. My bird screeches.
O my love—you should have come.



~~
so basically this is a hot mess that i can’t decide if i want to fix or not. but i like it as it is, for now. and i hope you do, too!

Filed under poem poetry Original Work

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Bright House


It is a bright house;
not a single room is dim.

It is a house which rises high
on the cliffs, open
as a lookout tower.

When the night comes
I put a light in it,
a light larger than the sun and the moon.

Think
how my heart leaps
when my trembling fingers
strike a match in the evening.

I lift my breasts
and inhale and exhale the sound of love
like the passionate daughter of a lighthouse keeper.

It is a bright house.
I will create in it
a world no man can ever build.

 - Fukao Sumako, trans. by Kenneth Rexroth

Filed under Fukao Sumako poem poetry Japanese poetry Translated by Kenneth Rexroth