رؤى بني مصطفى

:Silent is the house: all are laid asleep ,One alone looks out o’er the snow-wreaths deep Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze

.They slip on to the bus, hair piled up high ,New styles each month, it seems to me. I look Not wanting to be seen, casting an eye .Above the unread pages of a book

I have sometimes thought how it would have been -If I had had to create the whole thing myself ;My life certainly but also something else ,I mean a world which I could inhabit freely

Window upon the wall, a balcony With a light chair, the air and water so Mingled you could not say which was the sun

I do not understand this child Though we have lived together now In the same house for years. I know Nothing of him, so try to build

—I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to —But You have enough—of those —I could bring You Odors from St. Domingo —Colors—from Vera Cruz

When I decide I shall assemble you Or, more precisely, when I decide which thoughts ,Of mine about you fit most easily together Then I can learn what I have loved, what lets

This to be peace, they think beside the river Being adapted well to expectation And their wives’ mutiny at no achievement And yet can sit watching the promises

:I should be happy with my lot A wife and mother – is it not ?Enough for me to be content ?What other blessing could be sent

,Tell me, tell me, smiling child ?What the past is like to thee ‘An Autumn evening soft and mild ’.With a wind that sighs mournfully

No coward soul is mine  No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere  I see Heaven’s glories shine  And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear 

Me thinks this heart should rest awhile So stilly round the evening falls The veiled sun sheds no parting smile Nor mirth nor music wakes my Halls

,Come, walk with me There’s only thee –To bless my spirit now  We used to love on winter nights

Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog ,the house we live in ,beneath the magnetic rock ,rain-, rainbow-ridden

,My heart be brave, and do not falter so .Nor utter more that deep, despairing wail ,Thy way is very dark and drear I know ;But do not let thy strength and courage fail

,One morn before me were three figures seen ;With bowèd necks, and joinèd hands, side-faced ,And one behind the other stepp’d serene ;In placid sandals, and in white robes graced

,There was a naughty boy ,A naughty boy was he ,He would not stop at home -He could not quiet be

,Observe the weary birds e’re night be done ,How they would fain call up the tardy Sun ,With Feathers hung with dew ,And trembling voices too

,Once, I was in New York in Central Park, and I saw an old man in a black overcoat walking a black dog. This was springtime

,Jamie MacCrystal sang to himself ;A broken song without tune, without words ,He tipped me a penny every pension day .Fed kindly crusts to winter birds

All legendary obstacles lay between ,Us, the long imaginary plain The monstrous ruck of mountains ,And, swinging across the night

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون مونتاغ، تحتوي القصيدة على ذكريات المتحدث المليئة بالحنين إلى العمل الروتيني الذي أكمله في شبابه.

,We match paces along the Hill Head Road ;the road to the old churchyard of Errigal Keerogue .its early cross, a heavy stone hidden in grass

:All around, shards of a lost tradition From the Rough Field I went to school In the Glen of the Hazels. Close by ;Was the bishopric of the Golden Stone

We were characters in a story .the writer couldn't bring himself to finish When he left us it was late, a child was crying, newsprint smudged on our fingertips

,Once there was an elephant —Who tried to use the telephant No! No! I mean an elephone —Who tried to use the telephone

,Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race ,Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours ;Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace ,And glut thy self with what thy womb devours

Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy .Calling the cows home

,I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky ;And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by ,And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking .And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون مارك جرين، وهي قصيدة حب تتحدث عن المدى الذي سيذهب إليه شخص لآخر.