Artiste
METAMORPHOSIS We've plodded through a weird and weary time, Called Winter by the calendar alone; We have beheld an earth pool-deep in slime, Image a heaven of stone. We've found life hid between the folds of mire, Sensed life in every place, heard life in tune. The earth-shell cracks with underneath desire; Spring crawls from [...]
YARILA BY SERGEY GORODETSKY First to sharpen the ax-flint they bent, On the green they had gathered, unpent, They had gathered beneath the green tent. There where whitens a pale tree-trunk, naked, There where whitens a pale linden trunk. By the linden tree, by the young linden, By the linden tree, by the young linden, [...]
THEN ...Then came the night and brought your dream In the quiet blaze of stars. And the smiling day went marching by Where the wild, breathless roses are. I long now for a May of dreams, The moment when your love appears. I'd like to blaze upon your mouth A dream-time of a thousand years. [...]
“when i sleep, i know no fear, no, trouble no bliss. blessing on him who invented sleep. the common coin that purchases all things, the balance that levels shepherd and king, fool and wise man. there is only one bad thing about sound sleep. they say it closely resembles death.” Mirror is a 1975 art film directed by Andrei [...]
in the dream we sleep, the mouth speaks true. Corona Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. We shell time from the nuts and teach it to walk: time returns to the shell. In the mirror is Sunday, in the dream we sleep, the mouth speaks true. My eye goes down [...]
“Greenish water on my face: I will drink from you until the night opens. No one can save me. I'm invisible even to myself.” A Musical Hell (Excerpt) 1. THE SHAPES OF A PREMONITION COLD IN HAND BLUES and what is it you're going to say i'm just going to say something and what's this [...]
“Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.” Pessoa as Ricardo reis : Crown Me with Roses Crown me with roses, Crown me really With roses Roses which burn out On a forehead burning So soon out! Crown me with roses And with fleeting leafage. That will do. (I2.6.14) The Roses of the Gardens [...]
The Second Coming is a poem written by Irish poet W. B. Yeats in 1919, first printed in The Dial in November 1920, and afterwards included in his 1921 collection of verses Michael Robartes and the Dancer. The poem uses Christian imagery regarding the Apocalypse and Second Coming to allegorically describe the atmosphere of post-war Europe. It is considered a major work of modernist poetry and has been reprinted in several collections. The [...]
Because it all just breaks apart, and the pieces scatter andrearrange without much fanfare or notice. Because you can’t and don’t remember the step that kicked updust and left this planet—you’d give up even more now. Because the body itself—the heart’s not dead but deeper, wrapped up in curtains, a different color,among the railings and [...]
Élévation Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées,Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers,Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers,Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées, Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité,Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l'onde,Tu sillonnes gaiement l'immensité profondeAvec une indicible et mâle volupté. Envole-toi bien loin [...]
On vient de mourir mais je suis vivant et cependant je n’ai plus d’âme. Je n’ai plus qu’un corps transparent à l’intérieur duquel des colombes transparentes se jettent sur un poignard transparent tenu par une main transparente. Je vois l’effort dans toute sa beauté, l’effort réel qui ne se chiffre par rien, peu avant la [...]