Nasla sam ovo na mom kompu....mozda sam i ovde to nasla ne znam....ponovo citam pa sam odlucila da stavim.  Lepo je...



Ako mozes da vidis
unisteno delo svoga zivota,
i bez jedne reci da ga ponovo gradis,
ili da bez uzdaha ili protesta,
podneses gubitak onoga sto si dugo tekao;
ako mozes da budes zaljubljen, ali ne i lud od ljubavi,
ako mozes da budes jak, a da ipak ostanes nezan,
da ne mrzis one koji tebe mrze,
a da se ipak boris i branis;
ako mozes da slusas kako tvoje reci
izvrcu nevaljalci, da razdraze glupake,
i da cujes kako luda usta o tebi lazu,
a da sam ne kazes ni jednu laz;
ako mozes da sacuvas dostojanstvo i slavu,
ako mozes da budes skroman,
iako si savetodavac kraljeva,
ako mozes da volis svoje prijatelje kao bracu,
a da ti ni jedan ne bude sve i svja;
ako znas da razmisljas, da posmatras i upoznajes,
a da nikad ne postanes skeptik ni rusilac,
ako znas da sanjaris, a da ti san ne bude gospodar,
da mastas, a da ne budes samo mastar;
ako mozes da budes cvrst, ali nikad divalj,
ako mozes da budes dobar,
ako mozes da budes pametan,
a da nisi cistunac i sitnicar;
ako mozes da zadobijes pobedu posle poraza,
a da te dve varke podjednako primis,
ako mozes da sacuvas hrabrost i glavu,
kad je svi ostali izgube.
Tada ce sreca i pobeda
biti zauvek tvoji poslusni robovi,
i ono sto vise vredi nego slava:
Bices Covek Sine moj!

O da, sjajni Rudyard Kipling..

Mislim da sam već negde postavila ovu pesmu na forumu, ali ne mogu da se setim gde..
Tašina tema je bila, nešto u fazonu šta poručiti detetu, ili kako  ga savetovati.. Ne znam, ubij me..


_____________________________

ŽENA JE STENA!

ja volim morbidnu poeziju buuu :))) Evo jedne lijepe pjesme od Roberta Bowninga:

THE rain set early in to-night,
    The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
    And did its worst to vex the lake:
    I listen'd with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
    She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneel'd and made the cheerless grate
    Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
    Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
    And laid her soil'd gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
    And, last, she sat down by my side
    And call'd me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
    And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
    And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
    And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
    Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
    From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
    And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
    Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
    For love of her, and all in vain:
    So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I look'd up at her eyes
    Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipp'd me; surprise
    Made my heart swell, and still it grew
    While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
    Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
    In one long yellow string I wound
    Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
    I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
    I warily oped her lids: again
    Laugh'd the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untighten'd next the tress
    About her neck; her cheek once more
Blush'd bright beneath my burning kiss:
    I propp'd her head up as before,
    Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
    The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
    That all it scorn'd at once is fled,
    And I, its love, am gain'd instead!
Porphyria's love: she guess'd not how
    Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
    And all night long we have not stirr'd,
    And yet God has not said a word!

Da, da, Bog nekada zazmuri i propusti bitne stvari...