Charles Simic - What the Gypsies Told My Grandmother While She Was Still a Young Girl

[bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com]

Charles Simic
What the Gypsies Told My Grandmother While She Was Still a Young Girl

War, illness and famine will make you their favourite grandchild.
You'll be like a blind person watching a silent movie.
You'll chop onions and pieces of your heart
    into the same hot skillet.
Your children will sleep in a suitcase tied with a rope.
Your husband will kiss your breasts every night
    as if they were two gravestones.

Already the crows are grooming themselves
    for you and your people.
Your oldest son will lie with flies on his lips
    without smiling or lifting his hand.
You'll envy every ant you meet in your life
    and every roadside weed.
Your body and soul will sit on separate stoops
    chewing the same piece of gum.

Little cutie, are you for sale? the devil will say.
The undertaker will buy a toy for your grandson.
Your mind will be a hornet's nest even on your
deathbed.
You will pray to God but God will hang a sign
    that He's not to be disturbed.
Question no further, that's all I know.

(From: Charles Simic, The Voice at 3:00 A.M. Selected Late and New Poems. Orlando: Hartcourt, 2003.)

william blake- the clod and the pebble

[another-dexter.livejournal.com]

Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.

So sung a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite