Ezra Pound

(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

Ezra Pound Poems

81. Grace Before Song 1/1/2004
82. Guido Invites You Thus 4/1/2010
83. Heather 4/1/2010
84. Her Monument, The Image Cut Thereon 4/1/2010
85. Historion 1/1/2004
86. Histrion 1/3/2003
87. Homage To Quintus Septimus Florentis Christianus 4/1/2010
88. Homage To Sextus Propertius - I 4/1/2010
89. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ii 4/1/2010
90. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iii 4/1/2010
91. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Iv 4/1/2010
92. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Ix 4/1/2010
93. Homage To Sextus Propertius - V 4/1/2010
94. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vi 4/1/2010
95. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Vii 4/1/2010
96. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Viii 4/1/2010
97. Homage To Sextus Propertius - X 4/1/2010
98. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xi 4/1/2010
99. Homage To Sextus Propertius - Xii 4/1/2010
100. Horae Beatae Inscripto 4/1/2010
101. Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I) 1/3/2003
102. Image From D'Orleans 4/1/2010
103. Impressions Of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire) 4/1/2010
104. In A Station Of The Metro 1/3/2003
105. In Durance 4/1/2010
106. In Exitum Cuiusdam 4/1/2010
107. In Tempore Senectutis 1/1/2004
108. In The Old Age Of The Soul 1/1/2004
109. Invern 1/1/2004
110. Ione, Dead The Long Year 1/3/2003
111. Ité 1/3/2003
112. La Fraisne 4/1/2010
113. La Regina Avrillouse 1/3/2003
114. Ladies 4/1/2010
115. Lament Of The Frontier Guard 1/3/2003
116. Langue D'Oc 4/1/2010
117. L'Art 1/3/2003
118. Leave-Taking Near Shoku 4/1/2010
119. Les Millwin 4/1/2010
120. L'Homme Moyen Sensuel 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Ezra Pound

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Read the full of A Girl

Taking Leave Of A Friend

Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.

Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each others

[Hata Bildir]