الحب موضوع بيتفنن فيه كل شخص وكل شاعر عكيفو .. في شعراء خلدوا الحب بقصائدون أو فينا نقول انو الحب خلدون من خلال قصائدون .. رح ابدا بقصيدة تعتبر من روائع قصائد الحب عبر الزمان وهي للشاعر اللي درسنالو كتير جون دون.
AS virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; 'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ; Men reckon what it did, and meant ; But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit Of absence, 'cause it doth remove The thing which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined, That ourselves know not what it is, Inter-assurèd of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two ; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.
John Donne
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آخر تعديل بواسطة سنا في الثلاثاء تشرين الأول 21, 2008 2:03 م، عدل 1 مرة
John Donne engages in a didactic lesson to show the parallel between a positive way to meet death and a positive way to separate from a lover When a virtuous man dies he whispers for his soul to go while others await his parting.
قريت مره عالنت عنوان حلو ل هالقصيده The Circle of Souls in John Donne's
The intensity of Donne’s feeling and the swiftness of his thought are reflected in his verse.
بس كمان ما دايما حب .. عندو كمان Satire :
It would not be true to say that there is nothing of the harshness of the satires in the elegies and songs. In riming couplets, Donne was always endeavouring after a fulness of thought, a freedom and swiftness of movement, which were not to be attained at once without some harshness of transition and displacement of accent.
وشغلة مهمة انو زوجته(اليزابيث) كانت اخت السير توماس... وطبعا متلو متل أغلب الشعراء والكتاب كان داخل بالسياسة ..
وبما انو بدينا فيه رح رد حطلو هالكلمات
O more than moon, Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere; Weep me not dead in thine arms, but forbear To teach the sea what it may do too soon;
وهي من أجمل قصائد الحب كمان .. ايليزابيث براونينغ ..
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight I love thee freely, as men strive for Right I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose I shall but love thee better after death
Thomas Moore (1779-1852). هالقصيدة للشاعر الايرلندي توماس مور .. سبب جماليتها الكلمات والقصة المخباية بين هالسطور هيي انو زوجته صابها مرض جلدي فخافت انو تبطل حلوة ويبطل يحبها بس الشاعر طبعا مانو من هالنوع (كل اسمو شاعر ) كرمال هيك كتبلها هالقصيدة المعبرة ..
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms Which I gaze on so fondly today, Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms Like fairy gifts fading away; Thou wouldst still be adored As this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will. And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, To which time will but make thee more dear. No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.
Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend, Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire Than did on him who first stole down the fire, While Love on me doth all his quiver spend ; But with your rhubarb words ye must contend, To grieve me worse in saying, that Desire Doth plunge my well-formed soul even in the mire Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end? If that be sin which doth the manners frame, Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed, Ready of wit and fearing nought but shame If that be sin which in fixt hearts doth breed A loathing of all loose unchastity, Then love is sin, and let me sinful be !
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow- It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame.
They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me- Why were thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well:- Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met- In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?- With silence and tears.
لا تستطيع كتابة مواضيع جديدة في هذا المنتدى لا تستطيع كتابة ردود في هذا المنتدى لا تستطيع تعديل مشاركاتك في هذا المنتدى لا تستطيع حذف مشاركاتك في هذا المنتدى لا تستطيع إرفاق ملف في هذا المنتدى
يمكنك أن تستفيد من الصلاحيات الإضافية للعضو و المشاركة في المنتدى بالتسجيل من هنا , كما يشرفنا أن ينضم إلينا الأساتذة و المعلمون 
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