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Saturday, April 3, 2010

That's Amore, part one

The most popular poems are all about love – love found, love lost, love rejected, and love regained.

They’re stored in a treasure chest we can borrow from when we can’t put our feelings into words. What is banal in prose can become, well, poetic when expressed in the special rhymes and rhythms of verse.

But is it right to copy someone’s work? Just as important,

Are love poems
bound to one person
or are they transferable?

~ Michael Augustin, b. 1953, German poet,
from Some Questions Regarding Poems

The answers are clear. Copying is allowed. If you give credit where credit is due, it’s a quotation, not plagiarism.

And poetry is universal. The poet of this famous sonnet was writing to her husband. No lover would reject this.


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 every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
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.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861), English poet, to her husband, the poet Robert Browning (1812-1889), from Sonnets from the Portuguese


John said...


In Napoli, where love is king,
When boy meets girl, here's what they say:

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie,
That's amore.
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine,
That's amore.
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling,
And you'll sing "Vita bella."
Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay,
Like a gay tarantella.

When the stars make you drool just like pasta fazool,
That's amore.
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet,
You're in love.
When you walk in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming, signore.
Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli,
That's amore.
Lucky fella.

Just thought you'd like to know.


NE Peterson said...

By Rabindranath Tagore

I know that this life, missing its ripeness in
love, is not altogether lost.

I know that the flowers that fade in the dawn,
the streams that strayed in the desert, are not
altogether lost.

I know that whatever lags behind, in this life
laden with slowness, is not altogether lost.

I know that my dreams that are still
unfulfilled, and my melodies still unstruck, are
clinging to Your lute strings, and they are not
altogether lost.