Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Tue Apr 05, 2022 6:15 am

"Sidekicks They were never handsome and often camewith a hormone imbalance manifested by corpulence,a yodel of a voice or ears big as kidneys.But each was brave. More than once a sidekickhas thrown himself in front of our hero in orderto receive the bullet or blow meant for thatperfect face and body.Thankfully, heroes never die in movies and leavethe sidekick alone. He would not stand for it.Gabby or Pat, Pancho or Andy remind us of a partof ourselves,the dependent part that cannever grow up,the part that is painfully eager to please,always wants a hug and never gets enough.Who could sit in a darkened theatre, listento the organ music and watch the bestof ourselves lowered into the ground whilethe rest stood up there, tears pouring offthat enormous nose."



Ronald Koetge
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Tue Apr 05, 2022 6:32 am

"I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I


The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.

Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood,—
And he, perplexed;

He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen-year-old lust.


Theodore Roethke

1932

I Am! Said the Lamb [excerpt]


The Donkey



I had a Donkey, that was all right,
But he always wanted to fly my Kite;
Every time I let him, the String would bust.
Your Donkey is better behaved, I trust.


The Ceiling



Suppose the Ceiling went Outside
And then caught Cold and Up and Died?
The only Thing we'd have for Proof
That he was Gone, would be the Roof;
I think it would be Most Revealing
To find out how the Ceiling's Feeling.


The Chair



A funny thing about a Chair:
You hardly ever think it's there.
To know a Chair is really it,
You sometimes have to go and sit.


The Hippo



A Head or Tail—which does he lack?
I think his Forward's coming back!
He lives on Carrots, Leeks and Hay;
He starts to yawn—it takes All Day—

Some time I think I'll live that way.


The Lizard



The Time to Tickle a Lizard,
Is Before, or Right After, a Blizzard.
Now the place to begin
Is just under his Chin,—
And here's more Advice:
Don't Poke more than Twice
At an Intimate Place like his Gizzard.


Theodore Roethke

1961

The Storm

1


Against the stone breakwater,
Only an ominous lapping,
While the wind whines overhead,
Coming down from the mountain,
Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces;
A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
And the small street-lamp swinging and slamming against
the lamp pole.

Where have the people gone?
There is one light on the mountain.

2


Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,
The waves not yet high, but even,
Coming closer and closer upon each other;
A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea,
Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot,
The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,
Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness.

A time to go home!—
And a child's dirty shift billows upward out of an alley,
A cat runs from the wind as we do,
Between the whitening trees, up Santa Lucia,
Where the heavy door unlocks,
And our breath comes more easy,—
Then a crack of thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over
The flat-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating
The walls, the slatted windows, driving
The last watcher indoors, moving the cardplayers closer
To their cards, their anisette.

3


We creep to our bed, and its straw mattress.
We wait; we listen.
The storm lulls off, then redoubles,
Bending the trees half-way down to the ground,
Shaking loose the last wizened oranges in the orchard,
Flattening the limber carnations.

A spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,
Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.
The bulb goes on and off, weakly.
Water roars into the cistern.

We lie closer on the gritty pillow,
Breathing heavily, hoping—
For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,
The flat boom on the beach of the towering sea-swell,
The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-cliff collapses,
And the hurricane drives the dead straw into the living pine-tree.


Theodore Roethke
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Wed Apr 06, 2022 1:32 am

"
What are




The Dream

by George (Lord) Byron


Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past—they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power—
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not—what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows—Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow?—What are they?
Creations of the mind?—The mind can make
Substances, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

I would recall a vision which I dreamed
Perchance in sleep—for in itself a thought,
A slumbering thought, is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour.


II

I saw two beings in the hues of youth
Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,
Green and of mild declivity, the last
As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such,
Save that there was no sea to lave its base,
But a most living landscape, and the wave
Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men
Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke
Arising from such rustic roofs: the hill
Was crowned with a peculiar diadem
Of trees, in circular array, so fixed,
Not by the sport of nature, but of man:
These two, a maiden and a youth, were there
Gazing—the one on all that was beneath
Fair as herself—but the boy gazed on her;
And both were young, and one was beautiful:
And both were young—yet not alike in youth.

As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge,
The maid was on the eve of womanhood;
The boy had fewer summers, but his heart
Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him; he had looked
Upon it till it could not pass away;
He had no breath, no being, but in hers:
She was his voice; he did not speak to her,
But trembled on her words; she was his sight,
For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,
Which coloured all his objects;—he had ceased
To live within himself: she was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously—his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony.

But she in these fond feelings had no share:
Her sighs were not for him; to her he was
Even as a brother—but no more; 'twas much,
For brotherless she was, save in the name
Her infant friendship had bestowed on him;
Herself the solitary scion left
Of a time-honoured race.
—It was a name
Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not—and why?
Time taught him a deep answer—when she loved
Another; even now she loved another,
And on the summit of that hill she stood
Looking afar if yet her lover's steed
Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.


III

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

There was an ancient mansion, and before
Its walls there was a steed caparisoned:
Within an antique Oratory stood
The Boy of whom I spake;—he was alone,
And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon
He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced
Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned
His bowed head on his hands and shook, as 'twere
With a convulsion—then rose again,
And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear
What he had written, but he shed no tears.

And he did calm himself, and fix his brow
Into a kind of quiet: as he paused,
The Lady of his love re-entered there;
She was serene and smiling then, and yet
She knew she was by him beloved; she knew—
For quickly comes such knowledge—that his heart
Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw
That he was wretched, but she saw not all.

He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp
He took her hand; a moment o'er his face
A tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;
He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps
Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,
For they did part with mutual smiles; he passed
From out the massy gate of that old Hall,
And mounting on his steed he went his way;
And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.


IV

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds
Of fiery climes he made himself a home,
And his Soul drank their sunbeams; he was girt
With strange and dusky aspects; he was not
Himself like what he had been; on the sea
And on the shore he was a wanderer;
There was a mass of many images
Crowded like waves upon me, but he was
A part of all; and in the last he lay
Reposing from the noontide sultriness,
Couched among fallen columns, in the shade
Of ruined walls that had survived the names
Of those who reared them; by his sleeping side
Stood camels grazing, and some goodly steeds
Were fastened near a fountain; and a man,
Glad in a flowing garb, did watch the while,
While many of his tribe slumbered around:
And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in heaven.


V

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Lady of his love was wed with One
Who did not love her better: in her home,
A thousand leagues from his,—her native home,
She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy,
Daughters and sons of Beauty,—but behold!
Upon her face there was a tint of grief,
The settled shadow of an inward strife,
And an unquiet drooping of the eye,
As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.

What could her grief be?—she had all she loved,
And he who had so loved her was not there
To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish,
Or ill-repressed affliction, her pure thoughts.

What could her grief be?—she had loved him not,
Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved,
Nor could he be a part of that which preyed
Upon her mind—a spectre of the past.


VI

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Wanderer was returned.
—I saw him stand
Before an altar—with a gentle bride;
Her face was fair, but was not that which made
The Starlight of his Boyhood;—as he stood
Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came
The selfsame aspect and the quivering shock
That in the antique Oratory shook
His bosom in its solitude; and then—
As in that hour—a moment o'er his face
The tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced—and then it faded as it came,
And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke
The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,
And all things reeled around him; he could see
Not that which was, nor that which should have been—
But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,
And the remembered chambers, and the place,
The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,
All things pertaining to that place and hour,
And her who was his destiny, came back
And thrust themselves between him and the light;
What business had they there at such a time?

VII

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Lady of his love;—Oh! she was changed,
As by the sickness of the soul; her mind
Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes,
They had not their own lustre, but the look
Which is not of the earth; she was become
The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts
Were combinations of disjointed things;
And forms impalpable and unperceived
Of others' sight familiar were to hers.

And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise
Have a far deeper madness, and the glance
Of melancholy is a fearful gift;
What is it but the telescope of truth?
Which strips the distance of its fantasies,
And brings life near in utter nakedness,
Making the cold reality too real!

VIII

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,
The beings which surrounded him were gone,
Or were at war with him; he was a mark
For blight and desolation, compassed round
With Hatred and Contention; Pain was mixed
In all which was served up to him, until,
Like to the Pontic monarch of old days,
He fed on poisons, and they had no power,
But were a kind of nutriment; he lived
Through that which had been death to many men,
And made him friends of mountains; with the stars
And the quick Spirit of the Universe
He held his dialogues: and they did teach
To him the magic of their mysteries;
To him the book of Night was opened wide,
And voices from the deep abyss revealed
A marvel and a secret.
—Be it so.


IX



It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
IX My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom Of these two creatures should be thus traced out Almost like a reality—the one To end in madness—both in misery."
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Wed Apr 06, 2022 5:00 pm

"I lived, but as for living I was shiftless in my life,
knew always I’d be buried here when all was done,
that year layers itself upon year, clod on clod, stone on stone,
that in the chill and wormy dark the body swells,
and cold, too, lies the fathom-deep and naked bone.
That up there scurrying time is ransacking my poems,
that down, down, down, my mortal heaviness must drive;
all this I knew. But tell me – did the work survive?"


Miklos Magroti
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Apr 08, 2022 12:46 am

Where wood and sea and sky and hill
Give static broad simplicities, its course
At once more complex and more simple
Appears to thought as an example,
Like the complex, simple movement of great verse.


Robert Conquest
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Apr 08, 2022 4:28 am

"I know what some of you guys mut think:
And must assure you that my soul putinishly squeezed away into a corner, a cornered rat with no exit.


But that's the way the political sensitivity corresponds to social and psychological reality;

A defensive posture or an iron clad determination bought by a very high price: not to give up regained territory against all reason.

I simply can't quit because I'd feel a total abandonment which marginalized people , especially would have been expressively competent fear deathly.


The decomposition edges up a terrible self, sacrificed at the very limits of endurance and thisbis what the classic dialectic consists of; man against the inevitable! So much like Russian national-identity in today's world; a pitiful inevitable inversive compression: breathless with still a few beats of heart; the national pride, of the serf of the slave- mentality ; a festering wound of silent battles the world over.

That is the fear gripping today's world and all parties feel the book centrifugal force cyclonically pulling into the center vortex. Let's make a deL and reset programs, turn off the machine and let the objectives; the new hidden objects of desire pull the world's weltshmertz out of the coming panick.

Resist the pull. Somehow. Walk don't drive away aimlessly burning escalating energy up to the roof there burning away the last drops of soul.

Drip drip drip.

Walk don't drive away the force of the pressured existence needed to fill your abides with staying home power and get to really renew your familiarity with whom you live.

Should have kept the horse and gone hayrides deep into the night. And call in if you have to.

Your kid will be grown so fast only to accuse you were not ever there.


meno



and to those puteneers favoring gulag and oligarchs favored over there , don't thin such goulash a bizarre new world's order thought up behind blocked nuke free doors.


We are expendable; this may be a coveted covered show for more and more delusion control; to a dangerous leveling to illusion of the cross raised to height of dissenting dialectical temples of enigma.
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Apr 09, 2022 4:51 pm

"AMBITION. . .
That in my soul,
                          I did not love him.
Now my wife wants to have
a second child. I am frightened;
the things a human being must learn,—
the things a child
must learn he FEELS,—
frighten me! I know people’s faults
because in my soul, 
                                 I HAVE COMMITTED


Nijinsky
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Apr 22, 2022 8:00 pm

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

William Cowper
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Apr 23, 2022 4:06 am

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
And like unletter’d clerk still cry ‘Amen’
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polish’d form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say ‘’Tis so, ’tis true,’
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.


William Shakespeare
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Thu May 26, 2022 8:15 pm

"Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were. Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind."

"It comes so soon, the moment when there is nothing left to wait for.

Marcel Proust


If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time.


Marcel Proust


>>>>>>><>>>>>>>>



ENGLAND IN 1819

An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless, a book sealed,--
A Senate—Time's worst statute unrepealed,--
Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst to illumine our tempestuous day."

>>>>>>>><><><><>>>>>>><><><><

"“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."


Percey Shelley
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sun May 29, 2022 1:31 am

"I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is."


Alan Watts
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sun May 29, 2022 4:24 am

"Oh muse who comes in a fiery cart wearing a skirt of revolving swords, trumpeting and insistent; Oh Muse who comes through the hedge wearing a gray coat, to stand under the ash-tree, beckoning…"


Gary Snyder
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Thu Jun 02, 2022 7:07 am

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the"


>>>


"And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion."


Dylan Thomas
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Jun 03, 2022 2:02 am

"Owed to the Spell Checker
I have a spelling checker--
It came with my PC
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss Steaks aye can knot sea.

Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your sure reel glad two no.
Its vary polished in its weigh--
My checker tolled me sew.

A checker is a bless sing.
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me awl stiles two read,
And aides me when I rime.

To rite with care is quite a feet
Of witch won should be proud.
And wee mussed dew the best wee can,
Sew flaws are knot aloud.

And now bee cause my spelling
Is checked with such grate flare,
Their are know faults with in my cite;
Of non eye am a wear.

Each frays come posed up on my screen
Eye trussed to be a joule.
The checker poured o'er every word
To cheque sum spelling rule.

That's why aye brake in two averse
My righting wants to pleas.
So now ewe sea why aye dew prays
Such soft wear for pea seas!"


Computer poem

>>>>>><<>><<>>>>>>




"A great scientist on his flying horse,
Orbiting in a very big elliptical orbit,
Once upon a time came very close,
To my insignificant too small orbit,
My small path he almost touched,
Remained for quiet some times,
In touch and in love as well,
Took samples of my soil,
Took samples of my air,
Took samples of my fire,
Took samples of my water,
And finally samples of my light.

He is a great artist,
Painted a picture of mine,
On a white canvas of love,
And when I delivered a child,
He took my child,
To a beautiful garden,
A garden of flowers,
And the fruits,
But my son was alone,
All praise to the cloning,
His mate was created.

My son tasted the pleasant fruit,
Pre-matured and before the time,
And they were sent back,
To me once again!
With pains and blood,
And undesired death!

And when ugliness blackened my face,
He sent his robots,
At my thoughtful soil,
The autumn was changed,
In a spring for some time,
His voice messages,
Were played on flutes,
In the bells that ring,
At dawn and dusk,
And in the loud human voices,
All the tunes inspire to love,
And paint the beauty,
Of the great scientist!

Now he is too far,
In a path out of reach,
The robots don't come,
But the loving scientist,
Expects from the two,
Now matured enough,
To keep my face,
Neat and clean,
Green and fertile,
And let evolution,
To travel on a path,
That leads to a land,
Where death is dead,
I am aware of success,
I am aware of failures,
I am a mother,
I know my children.
I am not pessimistic,
I am hopeful.

I wish I could present,
Pretty charming couple,
Before the scientist,
And see the two,
Rewarded a life,
Really immortal having no end,
Truly infinite!

I know it well,
He will come once again,
Very close to me,
To upgrade one day,
The three dimensional,
Computer Program!

Since then I have to pass,
A life with my children,
In the three dimensions,
The unavoidable propagations,
The hung complications,
And probable expectations!

I am happy with him,
And with her as well,
I know he'll come,
Once again one day,
With love and rewards,
The matter is of time,
I shall take a bath,
Of fire and light,
And as a virgin intact,
I shall smile as a bride!
I know it's a cycle,
Destruction and construction,
It will continue,
Till the new version of 3D software,
Is final for upload!

Wish my son would not have tasted,
The fruit pre-matured,
I wouldn't have seen,
This painful cycle,
But again I know,
It all happened,
In accordance of programing,
For finalizing by trial and error,
A program to run,
And to kill the time that has beginning and end,
And my son was constrained,
How nice was the fruit!
My child was innocent,
And he is still so.
My dear cute baby!

3d Computer Program
Akhtar Jawad


POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEMLove story of two orbits during the period shown by the green rectangle. One orbiting in the blue will come again to that orbiting in the red.



Poems by Akhtar Jawad


PoemHunter.com: Poems - Poets - Poetry
POEMS





6/2/2022 10:41:16 PM # 1.0.0.969





Akhtar Jawad
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 5:20 am

"home transformed by the lightning
the balanced alcoves smother
this insatiable earth of a planet, Earth.
They attacked it with mechanical horns
because they love you, love, in fire and wind.
You say, what is the time waiting for in its spring?
I tell you it is waiting for your branch that flows,
because you are a sweet-smelling diamond architecture
that does not know why it grows."




A computer generated poem submitted to Duke u.literary digest and accepted
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Ichthus77 » Sat Jun 04, 2022 11:28 am

When? Is it a program that can be googled?
Fall semester ends 12/16/22. Apologies if I do not reply immediately.

“In choosing myself, I choose the other.”
- A marriage of Sartre & Levinas

“ Gloria Dei est vivens homo. “
Trans.: The glory of God is man fully alive.
- Irenaeus
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Ichthus77 » Sat Jun 04, 2022 11:46 am

Found: https://www.vice.com/amp/en/article/vvb ... uring-test

Github link at end of article links to generator website.
Fall semester ends 12/16/22. Apologies if I do not reply immediately.

“In choosing myself, I choose the other.”
- A marriage of Sartre & Levinas

“ Gloria Dei est vivens homo. “
Trans.: The glory of God is man fully alive.
- Irenaeus
User avatar
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:40 pm

Well, done 99 no 77 pardon, impress I've
Woke just
gettin' down to do the Thang

Get started now or forever hold it.
Must think t are a sabbatical say , stay tuned won't be as long as a very long walk. Meanwhile promised encode_ I read upwards another chapter I feel
Him as as strangely alone like I am a camera formed out of mirrored prisons.

Anti psychiatry does not necessitate the concept of ruling it'self out, front and center now down and out awhile.
Glad mother approves the regimen

Boys on beach know Brian in my room how UT works.
Freakish, strange how low dare you to go maybe not limited but fear it is. by something insidious, saw Saw 2 got scared turned it off.

I'm am more convinced of THE connection then the connected so go now brush teeth etc am care.
(Not tryin mystery like on Nile but death does part. ~ some think.)

Very interestin' must do declare. But all true Your honor to best of your know ledge.

Truth or dare?


memo nome meno
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:43 pm

Meno_ wrote:Well, done 99 no 77 pardon, impress I've
Woke just
gettin' down to do the Thang

Get started now or forever hold it.
Must think t are a sabbatical say , stay tuned won't be as long as a very long walk. Meanwhile promised encode_ I read upwards another chapter I feel
Him as as strangely alone like I am a camera formed out of mirrored prisons.

Anti psychiatry does not necessitate the concept of ruling it'self out, front and center now down and out awhile.
Glad mother approves the regimen

Boys on beach know Brian in my room how UT works.
Freakish, strange how low dare you to go maybe not limited but fear it is. by something insidious, saw Saw 2 got scared turned it off.

I'm am more convinced of THE connection then the connected so go now brush teeth etc am care.
(Not tryin mystery like on Nile but death does part. ~ some think.)

Very interestin' must do declare. But all true Your honor to best of your know ledge.

Truth or dare?


memo nome meno





And after all whose afraid of the big bad wolf except.......


And thinking what daddy said not to guzzle Burgin before noon.stucking to that deliberationed regimen.thank you me fine(d)

Occasional burp
Meno_
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Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am
Location: Mysterium Tremendum

Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:53 pm

Meno_ wrote:
Meno_ wrote:Well, done 99 no 77 pardon, impress I've
Woke just
gettin' down to do the Thang

Get started now or forever hold it.
Must think t are a sabbatical say , stay tuned won't be as long as a very long walk. Meanwhile promised encode_ I read upwards another chapter I feel
Him as as strangely alone like I am a camera formed out of mirrored prisons.

Anti psychiatry does not necessitate the concept of ruling it'self out, front and center now down and out awhile.
Glad mother approves the regimen

Boys on beach know Brian in my room how UT works.
Freakish, strange how low dare you to go maybe not limited but fear it is. by something insidious, saw Saw 2 got scared turned it off.

I'm am more convinced of THE connection then the connected so go now brush teeth etc am care.
(Not tryin mystery like on Nile but death does part. ~ some think.)

Very interestin' must do declare. But all true Your honor to best of your know ledge.

Truth or dare?


memo nome meno





And after all whose afraid of the big bad wolf except.......


And thinking what daddy said not to guzzle Burgin before noon.stucking to that deliberationed regimen.thank you me fine(d)

Occasional burp

Yeah it's much much more likely than not accepting you said about Pascqual on mathematical basis, but even if, Existence is not essential and with all the proof and the acid test before the cybernetic one, can deal with it, yessir proven to Hisself as such.

I am leaving now, but unlike some, EC and more like McArthur I kindly ask readmittence got the note from a principals office.

Hate to be a shaker and a mover among my piers, and but shylocked into some kind of strangeness unto death, but could go on and on and now must cut it.
Over and out.


(The bell rings and turns into a weird warwolf, simulation of 'I was teenage ware wolf- Tupperware version get two for one shipped from our factory in COMMERCE.)
Meno_
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Posts: 13298
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am
Location: Mysterium Tremendum

Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:53 pm

Meno_ wrote:
Meno_ wrote:Well, done 99 no 77 pardon, impress I've
Woke just
gettin' down to do the Thang

Get started now or forever hold it.
Must think t are a sabbatical say , stay tuned won't be as long as a very long walk. Meanwhile promised encode_ I read upwards another chapter I feel
Him as as strangely alone like I am a camera formed out of mirrored prisons.

Anti psychiatry does not necessitate the concept of ruling it'self out, front and center now down and out awhile.
Glad mother approves the regimen

Boys on beach know Brian in my room how UT works.
Freakish, strange how low dare you to go maybe not limited but fear it is. by something insidious, saw Saw 2 got scared turned it off.

I'm am more convinced of THE connection then the connected so go now brush teeth etc am care.
(Not tryin mystery like on Nile but death does part. ~ some think.)

Very interestin' must do declare. But all true Your honor to best of your know ledge.

Truth or dare?


memo nome meno





And after all whose afraid of the big bad wolf except.......


And thinking what daddy said not to guzzle Burgin before noon.stucking to that deliberationed regimen.thank you me fine(d)

Occasional burp

Yeah it's much much more likely than not accepting you said about Pascqual on mathematical basis, but even if, Existence is not essential and with all the proof and the acid test before the cybernetic one, can deal with it, yessir proven to Hisself as such.

I am leaving now, but unlike some, EC and more like McArthur I kindly ask readmittence got the note from a principals office.

Hate to be a shaker and a mover among my piers, and but shylocked into some kind of strangeness unto death, but could go on and on and now must cut it.
Over and out.


(The bell rings and turns into a weird warwolf, simulation of 'I was teenage ware wolf- Tupperware version get two for one shipped from our factory in COMMERCE.)
Meno_
The Invisible One
 
Posts: 13298
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am
Location: Mysterium Tremendum

Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:54 pm

Double post sorry*



*off to see the wizard
I
Meno_
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Sat Jun 04, 2022 6:09 pm

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
“You've no power here! ...
“You've always had the power my dear, you just had to learn it yourself.”
“Someplace where there isn't any trouble. ...
“Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”
“My! ...
“Don't be silly, Toto."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> - 2 + <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>><



"If you can't join them beat them"


James Watson
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Jul 01, 2022 5:28 am

"
0
4
Arthur Rimbaud Follow
Romance
When you are seventeen you aren't really serious.
- One fine evening, you've had enough of beer and lemonade,
And the rowdy cafes with their dazzling lights!
- You go walking beneath the green lime trees of the promenade.

The lime trees smell good on fine evenings in June!
The air is so soft sometimes, you close your eyelids;
The wind, full of sounds, - the town's not far away -
Carries odours of vines, and odours of beer...

II

- Then you see a very tiny rag
Of dark blue, framed by a small branch,
Pierced by an unlucky star which is melting away
With soft little shivers, small, perfectly white...

June night! Seventeen! - You let yourself get drunk.
The sap is champagne and goes straight to your head...
You are wandering; you feel a kiss on your lips
Which quivers there like something small and alive...

III

Your mad heart goes Crusoeing through all the romances,
- When, under the light of a pale street lamp,
Passes a young girl with charming little airs,
In the shadow of her father's terrifying stiff collar...

And because you strike her as absurdly naif,
As she trots along in her little ankle boots,
She turns, wide awake, with a brisk movement...
And then cavatinas die on your lips...
IV

You're in love. Taken until the month of August.
You're in love - Your sonnets make Her laugh.
All your friends disappear, you are not quite the thing.
- Then your adored one, one evening, condescends to write to you...!

That evening,... - you go back again to the dazzling cafes,
You ask for beer or for lemonade...
- You are not really serious when you are seventeen
And there are green lime trees on the promenade...

Original French

Roman

I

On n'est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans.
- Un beau soir, foin des bocks et de la limonade,
Des cafés tapageurs aux lustres éclatants !
- On va sous les tilleuls verts de la promenade.

Les tilleuls sentent bon dans les bons soirs de juin !
L'air est parfois si doux, qu'on ferme la paupière ;
Le vent chargé de bruits - la ville n'est pas loin -
A des parfums de vigne et des parfums de bière....

II


-Voilà qu'on aperçoit un tout petit chiffon
D'azur sombre, encadré d'une petite branche,
Piqué d'une mauvaise étoile, qui se fond
Avec de doux frissons, petite et toute blanche...

Nuit de juin ! Dix-sept ans ! - On se laisse griser.
La sève est du champagne et vous monte à la tête...
On divague ; on se sent aux lèvres un baiser
Qui palpite là, comme une petite bête....

III


Le coeur fou Robinsonne à travers les romans,
Lorsque, dans la clarté d'un pâle réverbère,
Passe une demoiselle aux petits airs charmants,
Sous l'ombre du faux col effrayant de son père...

Et, comme elle vous trouve immensément naïf,
Tout en faisant trotter ses petites bottines,
Elle se tourne, alerte et d'un mouvement vif....
- Sur vos lèvres alors meurent les cavatines...

IV


Vous êtes amoureux. Loué jusqu'au mois d'août.
Vous êtes amoureux. - Vos sonnets La font rire.
Tous vos amis s'en vont, vous êtes mauvais goût.
- Puis l'adorée, un soir, a daigné vous écrire...!

- Ce soir-là,... - vous rentrez aux cafés éclatants,
Vous demandez des bocks ou de la limonade..
- On n'est pas sérieux, quand on a dix-sept ans
Et qu'on a des tilleuls verts sur la promenade.
© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
L


the repetition in life is not changed.
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Re: Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

Postby Meno_ » Fri Jul 01, 2022 6:14 am

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