Federico Garcia Lorca
Song of the Barren Orange Tree
Woodcutter,
Cut my shadow from me.
Free me from the torment
of seeing myself without fruit.
Why was I born among mirrors?
The day walks in circles around me,
and the night copies me
in all its stars.
I want to live without seeing myself.
And I will dream that ants
and thistleburrs are my
leaves and my birds
Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me.
Free me from the torment
of seeing myself without fruit.
Arthur Rimbaud
“Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”
Jean Cocteau
"Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for."
Ian Curtis
Transmission (Joy Division)
Listen to the silence, let it ring on.
Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun.
We would have a fine time living in the night,
Left to blind destruction,
Waiting for our sight...
1 comment:
Thanks for what you said about the poem, Shai. I'd had a dodgy couple of days, and your comment put a smile on my face. The hug is appreciated. Damn - your attractive friends are hot. I'm on pretty good terms with Arthur myself. Gimme a time machine and I'm heading straight back so that I can try get my thumbs to touch in the back of his neck.
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