The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster, Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, … Continue reading ‘One Art’ by Elizabeth Bishop
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends. J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne. Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps. Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées, Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit, Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, … Continue reading ‘Demain, dès l’aube’ by Victor Hugo
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn … Continue reading ‘Sea Fever’ by John Masefield
Roméo habite au rez-de-chaussée du bâtiment trois Juliette dans l’immeuble d’en face au dernier étage Ils ont 16 ans tous les deux et chaque jour quand ils se voient Grandit dans leur regard une envie de partage C’est au premier rendez-vous qu’ils franchissent le pas Sous un triste ciel d’automne où il pleut sur leurs … Continue reading ‘Romeo Kiffe Juliette’ by Grand Corps Malade
I pick up the skirt, I pick up the sparkling beads in black, this thing that moved once around flesh, and I call God a liar, I say anything that moved like that or knew my name could never die in the common verity of dying, and I pick up her lovely dress, all her … Continue reading ‘For Jane: with all the love I had, which was not enough’ by Charles Bukowski
Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will–Love that I love so well– That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot Wherein, like … Continue reading ‘Apologia’ by Oscar Wilde
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness … Continue reading ‘The white birds’ by William Butler Yeats