Posted on

black march…

I have a freind
At the end
Of the world.
His name is a breath

Of fresh air.
He is dressed in
Grey chiffon. At least
I think it is chiffon.
It has a
Peculiar look, like smoke.

It wraps him round
It blows out of place
It conceals him
I have not seen his face.

But I have seen his eyes, they are
As pretty and bright
As raindrops on black twigs
In March, and heard him say:

I am a breath
Of fresh air for you, a change
By and by.

Black March I call him
Because of his eyes
Being like March raindrops
On black twigs.

(Such a pretty time when the sky
Behind black twigs can be seen
Stretched out in one
Uninterrupted
Cambridge blue as cold as snow.)

But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
Is an old friend. He says:

Whatever names you give me
I am
A breath of fresh air,
A change for you.

 

— Stevie Smith —

Posted on

you can’t. not yet. so don’t…

“What does it take to inspire you?”
He asked.
“I need to fall in love,” she replied.
“Surely there must be an easier way,”
he retorted.

http://weednymphos.tumblr.com/post/99259117378/ushttp://weednymphos.tumblr.com/post/99259117378/us

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Why, I have already fallen in love twice today,” she answered,

http://weednymphos.tumblr.com/post/99259117378/ushttp://weednymphos.tumblr.com/post/99259117378/us

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“First, when I set my eyes upon the
ever precipitous mountains that surround us,
guarding us like the skin that stretches along our bones,
and second,
with the uncertainty in your voice when you asked
if there is anything easier than falling in love.”

— n. o. —

Posted on

the sight of the stars…

You appeared before me in my dreams;
as yet unseen, you were already dear.
Your wondrous gaze filled me with longing,
your voice resounded in my heart,
long ago… no, it wasn’t a dream!

As soon as you arrived, I recognized you.

Have you not spoken to me in silence?
Have you not stooped gently at my bedside,
and whispered words of joy and love,
and whispered the words, “who are you?”

My fate, I entrust to you.
I can wait, I can wait…
You are my terrible angel,
my beautiful tempter…

What dark can come, when love is so light?

O, night is past,
everything is awake,
and the sun is rising…

lllllllllll— Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky —