Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson I was born on a day like today from 1850 en Edinburgh. It was novelist, essayist and poet, and some of works have become classics of literature not only child and youth, but for all ages. Author of universal adventure titles such as Treasure Island, The Black Arrow, The Lord of Ballantree o Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, he truly lived an equally adventurous life. Today, however, I want to remember him in his most unknown lyrical facet with 4 poems chosen from his work.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Son of an engineer, also studied this profession and Right later in Edinburgh. But it had always felt attracted by literature and decided to dedicate himself to it. He did it so well that in a few years he became one of the most important writers of his time.
His popularity was based primarily on the exciting plots of his fantasy and adventure novels. But he also cultivated poetry for children (Garden of verses for children) and adults. These are 4 poems chosen from his lyrical work.
4 poems
The swing
Do you really like to be able to swing
and ascend, descend ...?
It is one of the most exciting things
that a child can do!
Giving myself momentum I dominate the garden
and I see there in the distance
rivers and mountains, cattle and, finally,
what there is for those towns.
I go down afterwards and when I go down I can see
the grass on the ground,
I go through the air, I push myself again
And I go up, and I go down, and I fly!
Someday we love each other
Between the thicket of berries and the islands of reeds, as through a world that was only sky, oh inverted firmament, the boat of our love glided. Bright as day were your eyes, radiant the stream flowed and the vast and eternal sky was radiant.
When the glory died in the golden twilight, resplendent the moon ascended, and full of flowers home we returned. Radiant were your eyes that night, we had lived, oh my love, we had loved.
Now the ice envelops our river, with its whiteness the snow covers our island, and next to the winter fire Joan and Darby doze and dream. However, in the dream, the river flows and the boat of love still glides on.
Listen to the sound of the oar cutting its waters. And on winter afternoons when fantasy dreams in the crackling of the fireplace, in the ears of old lovers the river of their love sings in the reeds.
Oh my love, let's love the past because one day we were happy, and one day we love each other.
***
My body is my dungeon
My body, which is my dungeon,
it is also my parks and my palaces:
They are so great that I am always there,
all day, from one side to the other, slowly;
and when the night begins to fall
on my bed, sleepy,
while the whole building buzzes in its wake,
as if a wild child,
at dusk, he will mislead her from her path,
(having wandered, one summer day
by the slopes of the mountain, and climbed)
he still sleeps on his mountain;
She is so tall, so slender, so complete,
that there, in the eternal fields of the air,
my imagination soars like a kite.
***
Without compassion we enter the night
Without compassion we enter the night
leaving the noisy banquet, leaving when leaving
a tremor in the memory of men,
light, sweet, fragile like music.
Features of the face, the tones of the voice,
the touch of the beloved hand, everything, one after another,
they will perish and disappear on earth:
while, in the hall, the crowd cheers for the new interpreter.
But someone might take a little longer to leave
and, smiling, in your old heart remember
to those long forgotten.
And tomorrow, he too, will retire to the other side of the curtain.
And so time, which will be new to others, forgets us and continues.
***