1st December 2013
Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Und ruhig fließt der Rhein;
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
[The air is cool and twilight falls
And the Rhine flows calmly by;
The mountain summit glitters
In the evening sunshine.]
From Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797–1856)
24th September 2013
Link reblogged from Kcecelia with 4 notes
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
—Mary Oliver. Dream Work. (The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986.)
4th December 2012
Post with 2 notes
The wombat lives across the seas,
Among the far Antipodes.
He may exist on nuts and berries,
Or then again, on missionaries;
His distant habitat precludes
Conclusive knowledge of his moods.
But I would not engage the wombat
In any form of mortal combat.
Ogden Nash, ‘The Wombat’
27th November 2012
Post with 2 notes
Over you falls the sea-light, festive yet pale,
As though from the trees hung candles alight in a gale
To fill with shadows your days, as the distant beat
Of waves fills the lonely width of many a western street —
Bare and grey and yet hung with berries of mountain ash,
Drifting through ages with tilted fields awash,
Steeped with your few lost lights in the long Atlantic dark,
Sea-birds’ shelter, our shelter and ark.
Francis Stuart, ‘Ireland’. Written in Berlin, 1944
26th February 2012
Post with 5 notes
Through moonlight’s milk
She slowly passes
As soft as silk
Between tall grasses.
I watch her go
So sleek and white,
As white as snow,
The moon so bright
I hardly know
White moon, white fur,
Which is the light
And which is her.