If I could live again my life,
In the next - I’ll try,
- to make more mistakes,
I won’t try to be so perfect,
I’ll be more relaxed,
I’ll be more full - than I am now,
In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously,
I’ll be less hygenic,
I’ll take more risks,
I’ll take more trips,
I’ll watch more sunsets,
I’ll climb more mountains,
I’ll swim more rivers,
I’ll go to more places - I’ve never been,
I’ll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,
I’ll have more real problems - and less imaginary
I was one of those people who live
prudent and prolific lives -
each minute of his life,
Offcourse that I had moments of joy - but,
if I could go back I’ll try to have only good moments,
If you don’t know - thats what life is made of,
Don’t lose the now!
I was one of those who never goes anywhere
without a thermometer,
without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umberella and without a parachute,
If I could live again - I will travel light,
If I could live again - I’ll try to work bare feet
at the beginning of spring till
the end of autumn,
I’ll ride more carts,
I’ll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live - but now I am 85,
- and I know that I am dying …
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
Carpe diem, carpe diem,
How, but how?
Words in a row,
Sunshine in the shutters,
Carpe diem, carpe diem,
How, but how?
A forbidden springtime,
Daylight on the padlock,
Carpe diem, seize the day,
I don’t know the way,
In a quartet ash-grey.
just long enough
to snap up the words
You think of us now
when you kneel
on the earth,
in a temporary tourism
of our souls.
you paint your faces.
chew your doeskin,
touch breast to tree
as if sharing a mother
were all it takes,
could bring instant and primal
You think of us only
when your voices
want for roots,
when you have sat back
on your heels and
You finish your poem
and go back.
“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.”
“If you know that I am an unbeliever, then you know me better than I do myself. I may be an unbeliever, but I am an unbeliever who has a nostalgia for a belief.” — Pier Paolo Pasolini
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
— Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Pa forme eshte qielli,si tru idioti.
Merzitshem trotuaret shiu i qull.
Nje kalimtar,nje ombrelle,gjemon moti.
Nje biciklete kthesen merr me vrull.
Pa forme eshte qielli,si nje mendim idioti.
Fall in Tirana
Without form is the sky, like a brain of an idiot.
Annoyingly the rain soaks pavements.
A passerby, an umbrella, weather thunders.
A bicycle takes a turn with momentum.
Without form is the sky, like the thought of an idiot.
“No written word, no spoken plea
Can teach our youth what they should be,
Nor all the books on all the shelves.
It’s what the teachers are themselves.”
Orkney Island series - Soul and Stones (detail) pencil
Shuki Okamoto（岡本秋暉 Japanese, 1807-1872）
Auspicious Symbols: Crane, Rising Sun and Peach
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
Mock on, mock on; ‘tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind,
And the wind blows it back again.
And every sand becomes a gem
Reflected in the beams divine;
Blown back they blind the mocking eye,
But still in Israel’s paths they shine.
The Atoms of Democritus
And Newton’s Particles of Light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
Where Israel’s tents do shine so bright.
Ask the artist. Ask the poet. Ask the scientist. Ask the inventor or the philosopher: are the clouds lonely or angry?!
Fire runs through my body with the pain of loving you
Pain runs through my body with the fires of my love for you
Sickness wanders my body with my love for you
Pain like a boil about to burst with my love for you
Consumed by the fire with my love for you
I remember what you said to me
I am thinking of your love for me
I am torn by your love for me
Pain and more pain
Where are you going with my love?
I am told you will go from here
I am told you will leave me here
My body is numb with grief
Remember what i have said, my love
Good bye, my love, good bye.
This poem, recited by an anonymous Kwakuitl Indian of Southern Alaska to a missionary in 1896, captures the excruciating pain of lost love.