I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;
For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.
Hymn To Proserpine. Charles Algernon Swinburne.
Unele din putinele versuri pe care le tzin minte pe de rost. Si pe buna dreptate: din intzelepciunea amara a barbatzilor misogini, dornici de linishte si de moarte.
Weep, thou heathen readers.
Pentru cei care vor sa citeasca toata poliloghia artistio-trairistico-patimasha de macsima intensitate emotzionala, aici.
Weep, thou heathens...
Cu Crin, iese Georgescu președinte fluierând
Acum 3 ore
4 comentarii:
The frown of his face
Before me, the hurtle of hell Behind, where, where was a, where was a place?
I whirled out wings that spell
And fled with a fling of the heart to the heart of the Host.
My heart, but you were dovewinged, I can tell,
Carrier-witted, I am bold to boast,
To flash from the flame to the flame then, tower from the grace to the grace.
Mulţam' pentru sursă: de acolo am furat din Gerard Manley Hopkins, puteam să jur că e a doua pasiune a ta! The Wreck of the Deutschland lol
N-am auzit de el pana acum. Si nu, de regula nu imi plac versurile fara rima. Except Nichita and Whitman.
Sunt un retrograd nenorocit, care nu rezoneaza la modernitatea atomica. Except cyberpunk, women, drugs and rock'n''roll, of course :)
nu mi-a ieşit poanta, probabil că era şi nesărată - dă-o naibii! ai dreptate: let's have fun!
mă pregătesc de Marea Evadare
Bitch bitch, dar rafinata si educata si intorlocata si decadenta si articulata si inflorata.
That's a hell of a bitch, milady :)
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