Be near me Be near me now, My tormenter, my love, be near me— At this hour when night comes down, When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets, When it comes with cries of lamentation, with laughter with songs; Its blue-gray… Continue reading Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Our desires cut across one another, and in this confused existence it is rare for happiness to coincide with the desire that clamoured for it. — Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time Volume 2: In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower or Within a Budding Grave (Penguin Classics; Reprint edition January 25, 2005)… Continue reading Marcel Proust
I want love or death, I want to be totally dead, I want to turn into you, your blood, that roaring, confined lava that sends our fingertips out, like water, so it can feel the beautiful edges of life. —Vicente Aleixandre , from “Wholeness Within Her,” A Longing for the Light: Selected Poems of Vicente… Continue reading Vicente Aleixandre
All men see fires, storms, explosions, or landscapes; but how many feel the flames, the lightnings, the whirlwinds, or the harmony? How many have an inner beauty that tinges their melancholy? For the indifferent, to whom nature offers an insipid and cold objectivity, life even when fully enjoyed is a sum of missed opportunities. — Emil… Continue reading Emil M. Cioran
Prose can hold anything including poetry, but in poetry there’s only room for poetry — Wislawa Szymborska, from “Stage Fright,” Poems, new and collected, 1957-1997 Translation by Stanislaw Baranczak & Clare Cavanagh. (Mariner Books; Reprint edition November 16, 2000) Originally published January 1st 1998.
I’ve read that past and future are a spiral, one coil containing the next and predicting its theme. Perhaps this is so; but my own life has seemed to me more a series of closed circles, rings that do not evolve with the freedom of a spiral; for me to get to the other has… Continue reading Truman Capote
How easy it would be If love could be brought home like a lost kitten Or gathered in like strawberries, How lovely it would be; But nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be. — Brian Patten, from “And Nothing is Ever as Perfect as You Want it to Be,” Collected Love Poems.… Continue reading Brian Patten