Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Il Pleut




It’s Raining


It’s raining women’s voices as if they had died even in
memory
And it’s raining you as well marvellous encounters of my
life O little
drops
Those rearing clouds begin to neigh a whole universe of
auricular cities
Listen if it rains while regret and disdain weep to an
ancient music
Listen to the bonds fall off which hold you above and
below

Il Pleut
Guillaume Apollinaire

Saturday, June 21, 2008

She was gone


She was gone and the coldness of it was her final gift.


The Road
Cormac McCarthy

Thursday, June 19, 2008

She knew her beauty’s power.


The goddess threw her snow-white arms around him
as he held back, caressing him here and there,
and suddenly he caught fire — the same old story,
the flame he knew by heart went running through him,
melting him to the marrow of his bones…
...she knew her beauty’s power.

The Aeneid [excerpt]
Virgil