Wednesday, October 3, 2007

WORDS (W.B. Yeats)

I had this thought a while ago,
"My darling cannot understand
What I have done, or what would do
In this blind bitter land."

And I grew weary of the sun
Until my thoughts cleared up again,
Remembering that the best I have done
Was done to make it plain;

That every year I have cried, "At length
My darling understands it all,
Because I have come into my strength,
And words obey my call';

That had she done so who can say
What would have shaken from the sieve?
I might have thrown poor words away
And been content to live.


MOLLY!! said...

well lets thank all the sadness we need to, that ol' wb never gave up words

The Metrosexiest said...

Self-Portrait With Whiskey & Pistol (by Jay Hopler from “Green Squall”)

Of all the things this day turned out to be, a celebration of me
was not one of them.

Maybe if I surrounded myself with prostitutes and strippers, my
celibacy would feel less like a lack and more like an act
Of heroic self-denial.

My life and I live in the trees and share a tail.

Our stomach turns its peach pit to the moon!

Even if it’s true, what they say, that love is never a waste of time
No matter how impossible the object,
You wouldn’t know it from living.
On this street.

How disappointing it all is!
The lemon trees, the banyan trees, the sky—
How disappointing it all is.

Look, the Great Poet of solitude is pruning his roses!
(Even the way he does nothing is monstrous.)

O birds! O birds! Be not stingy with thy feathers white, I am
washing my hands!

Cloudy or not, here I come –

sebastian ciego said...

Often I have Encountered the Evil of Living (by Eugenio Montale, from "Ossi di seppia")

Often I have encountered the evil of living:
it was the strangled stream which gurgles,
it was the crumpling sound of the dried out
leaf, it was the horse weaty and exhausted.

The good I knew not, other than the miracle
revealed by divine Indifference:
it was the statue in the slumber
of the afternoon, and the cloud, and the high flying falcon.

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