IF YOU GO AWAY

Jacques Brel 1929-78

If you go away on this summer day

Then you might as well take the sun away,

All the birds that flew in the summer sky

When our love was new and our hearts were high,

When the days were young and the night was long

And the moon stood still for the night birds' song.

But if you stay I'll make you a day

Like no day has been or will be again,

We'll sail the sun, we'll ride on the rain

And talk to the trees and worship the wind,

But if you go, I'll understand,

Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand

If you go away as I know you will,

You must tell the world to stop turning

Till you return again, if you ever do,

For what good is love without loving you?

Can I tell you now as you turn to go,

I'll be dying slowly till the next hello.

But if you stay I'll make you a night

Like no night has been or will be again,

I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch,

I'll talk to your eyes that I love so much,

But if you go I won't cry,

For the good is gone from the world, goodbye.

If you go away as I know you must,

There'll be nothing left in this world to trust,

Just an empty room full of empty space

Like the empty space I see on your face,

And I'd have been a shadow of your shadow

If you might have kept me by your side.

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MY HEART''S IN THE HIGHLANDS

Robert Burns 1759–1796

  My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;

 Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe.

  My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.

    Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,         

The birthplace of valour, the country of worth;

 Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands forever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;

      Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;         

  Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;

  Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

  My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here:

My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;

     Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe.         

 My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

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AUTUMN SONG

Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828-82

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf 

How the heart feels a languid grief 

Laid on it for a covering, 

And how sleep seems a goodly thing 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? 

And how the swift beat of the brain 

Falters because it is in vain, 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf 

Knowest thou not? and how the chief 

Of joys seems not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf 

How the soul feels like a dried sheaf 

Bound up at length for harvesting, 

And how death seems a comely thing 

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? 

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THE HAIKU PAGE

floating on the pond

the leaf with a passenger

a tiny frog

market day

at sunrise long shadows

fill the empty stalls

nose to the ground

the dog explores the garden

an inch at a time

between the rocks

a moon 

in every little pool

each time he tells the story

the angler stretches his arms 

w    i    d    e    r

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I, TOO

Langston Hughes 1902-67

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I'll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody'll dare

Say to me,

"Eat in the kitchen,"

Then.

Besides,

They'll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed -

I, too, am America. 

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BILLY AND ME

James Hogg 1770-1835

Where the pools are bright and deep,

Where the grey trout lies asleep,

Up the river and over the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,

Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,

Where the nestlings chirp and flee,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,

Where the hay lies thick and greenest,

There to track the homeward bee,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,

Where the shadow falls the deepest,

Where the clustering nuts fall free,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away

Little sweet maidens from the play,

Or love to banter and fight so well,

That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play

Through the meadow, among the hay;

Up the water and over the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

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AH! SUNFLOWER

William Blake 1757-1827

Ah Sunflower, weary of time, 

  Who countest the steps of the sun; 

Seeking after that sweet golden clime 

  Where the traveller's journey is done; 

Where the Youth pined away with desire, 

  And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow, 

Arise from their graves, and aspire 

  Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

The new blog begins tomorrow

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