Walt Whitman's poems are old yet progressive; he was the pioneer back in the old days, of the new, I feel. His poems ring with the eternal, that which is the core of every human being, and that, about his poems, is what makes your heart flutter in your chest. His poems are fluid, naked and erotic. Flushing and beating.

Sometimes with One I Love

by Walt Whitman

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I
effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay is
certain one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not
return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)

Among the Multitude

by Walt Whitman

Among the men and women, the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else—not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
any nearer than I am;
Some are baffled—But that one is not—that one knows me.

Ah, lover and perfect equal!
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections;
And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you.

B. Yavuuhulan: Tuulyn ursgal shunuduu saihan

Туулын урсгал шeнeдee сайхан сан
Торгон долгио хаялан мяралздагсан
Хоёр ангир дандаа л хeвдeг сeн
Холын анир авангаа л дуугардаг сан.

Урсгалд нь умбагч сарыг ажин
Усанд нь хeвeгч оддыг тоолон
Бvvр тvvрхэн тохиолдлоо дурсан
Vvр цайлгах би дуртай сан.
Шившин шивнэх залуу навчис
Шeнийн дуу над аялдагсан
Сeeг моддын нь нэгийг тvшин
Шeнeжин сууж би сонсдог сон.

1957 он.

For all the memories made on and along the river Tuul.

Night train
Pick me up from my fears
Covered in sweat
I find you there
Hot and beating
beating
beating
night train
passing by
by
and by
My thought bubbles
float
in the dark
with the night train
passing by
your red heart
beating
beating
breathing
A heart
I observe you
breathing
The night train
has passed.
Only a heart beats
You
breathing
breathing
beating

Papa, why do we like to destroy
ourselves? You and me?
Tell me, when you were young,
were you me?

I am so dry and thirsty for my first inhalation
downwards,
fumes blowing high,
you slumped on the ground,
a broken puppet with the cat at his feet.

I pull down my face, feel
my innards swell and pull down
with all the poison, the shit
I deliberately expose myself to.

Papa, we'll sail down a beautiful sunny river one day,
I'm telling you, you and me,
Together and parallel.
I will gift you a bookcase, or maybe build from scratch
with wood you dream about,
manual saws.

All that is in us that we try to drown,
burn, hide,
that which sometimes explodes!
without warning,
we should, you know, Aav,
I think release it in machinery and creation.

Daddy, I'm your girl,
but Aav, I am your huu.
You and me, we share
blood and monsters
angels and despair, but Papa, don't despair.
Let's find some other broken
shit to repair.

It is funny, sad and strange how beauty is always fleeting. It shines steadily, stuns and twirls before your eyes. So near yet you can never touch, so close but in another world. Then, twirling, momentary beauty, it disappears, never to be seen again. The viewer, still stunned, begs, pleads to merely behold a moment longer and realizing only memory will be served, sighs and stares a million.

Everything else lingers. Unnecessarily.

After Many Days

I wonder if with you, as it is with me,
If under your slipping words, that easily flow
About you as a garment, easily,
Your violent heart beats to and fro!

Long have I waited, never once confessed,
Even to myself, how bitter the separation;
Now, being come again, how make the best
Reparation?

If I could cast this clothing off from me,
If I could lift my naked self to you,
Or if only you would repulse me, a wound would be
Good; it would let the ache come through.

But that you hold me still so kindly cold
Aloof my floating heart will not allow;
Yea, but I loathe you that you should withhold
Your pleasure now.


- D.H.Lawrence