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“We must not be frightened nor cajoled
into accepting evil as deliverance from evil.
We must go on struggling to be human,
though monsters of abstraction
police and threaten us.
Reclaim now, now renew the vision of
a human world where godliness
is possible and man
is neither gook nigger honkey wop nor kike
but man
permitted to be man.”
― Collected Poems
into accepting evil as deliverance from evil.
We must go on struggling to be human,
though monsters of abstraction
police and threaten us.
Reclaim now, now renew the vision of
a human world where godliness
is possible and man
is neither gook nigger honkey wop nor kike
but man
permitted to be man.”
― Collected Poems
“Ah, we've had so many masters,
Swine or eagle, lean or fat one:
Some were tiers, some hyenas,
Still we fed this one and that one.
Whether one is better than the other:
Ah, one boot is always like another
When it treads upon you. What I say about them
Is we need no other masters: we can do without them!
Yes, the wheel is always turning madly,
Neither side stays up or down,
But the water underneath fares badly
For it has to make the wheel go round.
(Ach, wir hatten viele Herren
Hatten Tiger und Hyänen
Hatten Adler, hatten Schweine
Doch wir nährten den und jenen.
Ob sie besser waren oder schlimmer:
Ach, der Stiefel glich dem Stiefel immer
Und uns trat er. Ihr versteht, ich meine
Dass wir keine andern Herren brauchen, sondern keine!
Freilich dreht das Rad sich immer weiter
Dass, was oben ist, nicht oben bleibt.
Aber für das Wasser unten heisst das leider
Nur dass es das Rad halt ewig treibt.)”
― Selected Poems: The Influential 20th Century German Poet's Accessible Bilingual Collection for Modern Readers
Swine or eagle, lean or fat one:
Some were tiers, some hyenas,
Still we fed this one and that one.
Whether one is better than the other:
Ah, one boot is always like another
When it treads upon you. What I say about them
Is we need no other masters: we can do without them!
Yes, the wheel is always turning madly,
Neither side stays up or down,
But the water underneath fares badly
For it has to make the wheel go round.
(Ach, wir hatten viele Herren
Hatten Tiger und Hyänen
Hatten Adler, hatten Schweine
Doch wir nährten den und jenen.
Ob sie besser waren oder schlimmer:
Ach, der Stiefel glich dem Stiefel immer
Und uns trat er. Ihr versteht, ich meine
Dass wir keine andern Herren brauchen, sondern keine!
Freilich dreht das Rad sich immer weiter
Dass, was oben ist, nicht oben bleibt.
Aber für das Wasser unten heisst das leider
Nur dass es das Rad halt ewig treibt.)”
― Selected Poems: The Influential 20th Century German Poet's Accessible Bilingual Collection for Modern Readers
“When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.”
― Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.”
― Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti
“From the moment of my birth, I lived with pain at the center of my life. My only purpose in life was to find a way to coexist with intense pain.”
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“Liberty
On my notebooks from school
On my desk and the trees
On the sand, on the snow
I write your name
On every page read
On all the white sheets
Stone blood paper or ash
I write your name
On the golden images
On the soldier’s weapons
On the crowns of kings
I write your name
On the jungle, the desert
The nests and the bushes
On the echo of childhood
I write your name
On the wonder of nights
On the white bread of days
On the seasons engaged
I write your name
On all my blue rags
On the pond mildewed sun
On the lake living moon
I write your name
On the fields, the horizon
The wings of the birds
On the windmill of shadows
I write your name
On the foam of the clouds
On the sweat of the storm
On dark insipid rain
I write your name
On the glittering forms
On the bells of colour
On physical truth
I write your name
On the wakened paths
On the opened ways
On the scattered places
I write your name
On the lamp that gives light
On the lamp that is drowned
On my house reunited
I write your name
On the bisected fruit
Of my mirror and room
On my bed’s empty shell
I write your name
On my dog greedy tender
On his listening ears
On his awkward paws
I write your name
On the sill of my door
On familiar things
On the fire’s sacred stream
I write your name
On all flesh that’s in tune
On the brows of my friends
On each hand that extends
I write your name
On the glass of surprises
On lips that attend
High over the silence
I write your name
On my ravaged refuges
On my fallen lighthouses
On the walls of my boredom
I write your name
On passionless absence
On naked solitude
On the marches of death
I write your name
On health that’s regained
On danger that’s past
On hope without memories
I write your name
By the power of the word
I regain my life
I was born to know you
And to name you
LIBERTY”
―
On my notebooks from school
On my desk and the trees
On the sand, on the snow
I write your name
On every page read
On all the white sheets
Stone blood paper or ash
I write your name
On the golden images
On the soldier’s weapons
On the crowns of kings
I write your name
On the jungle, the desert
The nests and the bushes
On the echo of childhood
I write your name
On the wonder of nights
On the white bread of days
On the seasons engaged
I write your name
On all my blue rags
On the pond mildewed sun
On the lake living moon
I write your name
On the fields, the horizon
The wings of the birds
On the windmill of shadows
I write your name
On the foam of the clouds
On the sweat of the storm
On dark insipid rain
I write your name
On the glittering forms
On the bells of colour
On physical truth
I write your name
On the wakened paths
On the opened ways
On the scattered places
I write your name
On the lamp that gives light
On the lamp that is drowned
On my house reunited
I write your name
On the bisected fruit
Of my mirror and room
On my bed’s empty shell
I write your name
On my dog greedy tender
On his listening ears
On his awkward paws
I write your name
On the sill of my door
On familiar things
On the fire’s sacred stream
I write your name
On all flesh that’s in tune
On the brows of my friends
On each hand that extends
I write your name
On the glass of surprises
On lips that attend
High over the silence
I write your name
On my ravaged refuges
On my fallen lighthouses
On the walls of my boredom
I write your name
On passionless absence
On naked solitude
On the marches of death
I write your name
On health that’s regained
On danger that’s past
On hope without memories
I write your name
By the power of the word
I regain my life
I was born to know you
And to name you
LIBERTY”
―
Science Book Club for the Curious
— 589 members
— last activity Sep 19, 2026 03:43AM
Feeling inquisitive? Looking for good conversation? Love science and books? The Science Book Club for the Curious is just the thing for you. This virt ...more
ghazal’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at ghazal’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
644 books
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456 friends
564 books
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95 friends
1,313 books
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587 friends
1,009 books
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34 friends
390 books
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183 friends
383 books
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19 friends
434 books
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225 friends
1,704 books
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5,001 friends
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