Resolute Desk Blueprints

Petrarch in France: P. Ronsard (1524-1585)

When you are old, in the evening, candlelight, seat by the fire, reeling and spinning, Direz, singing my verses, you wonder: "Ronsard celebrated me when I was beautiful" At , you'll servant hearing all this news Already under work half asleep, Who does the sound of Ronsard s'aille awoke Blessing praise your name immortal. I'm under the earth, and without phantom bone, myrteux In the shadows I will take my rest: You'll be at home an old crouching Regretting my love and your proud disdain. Live, so my advice, do not wait until tomorrow: Pick today the roses of life.

Quando Sareta Vecchia, the will, went candela seduta presso it fuoco, e dipanando filando, ricanterete the mie poesie, meravigliando: Ronsard I celebrated at the time that I was beautiful. Servant who hear this story then you will not, overcome by fatigue already half dozing, who at the sound of my name does not open your eyes a little, and praise your name so lucky star who once had. I will be in the ground, naked spirit among spirits, take my rest under the shade of the myrtles. you by the fire an old ineurvita, my love and 'the proud disdain your regret, Live, listen, do not wait Diman: seize as of today the roses of life.

Dog A Twitching Hind Leg

RMRilke Gaspara Print

RMRilke was one of the most important German poets of the twentieth secolo.Tra his masterpieces are the Duino Elegies, written during his stay at Duino (Trieste). I propose to you a part of the first elegy in which the 'Love is sung in its most pure dramatically, that is no response, such as that sung by Gaspara Press that kept intact, even in the abandonment, the intensity of sentimento.L' love is released from any content quota, only to be a charge, such as that collected in the first arrow to be shot.

... Yes, of course, the springs were in need of you. Some

star expecting you to find each other.
rode a wave from the past, here, or
while you pass under an open window
gave himself a violin. All this was done.
But you held it? So always distracted waiting, as if everything
t'annunciasse friend? (And where would you seek refuge
if the big, strange thoughts come and go in you

and often are, on the night?)
But if you yearn so, he sings the love. Of course, it is not enough
immortal
their feeling known.
sings them, the abandoned, almost envy you, you seemed so much more lovable
of place. Take it
always the unattainable celebration;
thinks, the hero endures, even death
was only a pretext for him to be: his last birth.
But the heroines of love itself again if the exhausted Nature
as if there were no forces twice
to accomplish this. You sang quite
of Gaspara Stampa, that some girl
which escapes the beloved, exalted
example of this love, feel, can I be too
like her?
as old sorrows, should, by now, become the most prolific
for us? time is not loving,
we are liberated from being loved, support him, fuming:
as the arrow is holding the rope, all leap in the collection,
to overcome them? That you can not stay, no where.