HEART PIECE (HERZSTÜCK)
by Heiner Müller
(translated from German)
ONE: May I put my heart at your feet?
TWO As long as you don’t soil my ﬂoor.
ONE: My heart is pure.
TWO: We’ll see to that.
ONE: I can’t get it out.
TWO: You’d like me to help you?
ONE: If you don’t mind.
TWO: It is my pleasure.
I too can’t get it out.
TWO: I’ll take it out by surgery.
What do I have a penknife for.
We’ll get this in a minute.
To work and not despair.
Well, it’s done. But this is a brick.
Your heart is a brick.
ONE: But it beats only for you.
LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798
by William Wordsworth
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
by Sandra Cisneros
A dream is a poem the body writes.
Even if we lie to ourselves in the day,
the body is compelled to speak its truth at night.
DEAD POETS SOCIETY
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute.
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.
And the human race is filled with passion.
And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits
and necessary to sustain life.
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.