When air scented with the breath of pineapple groves
Lingers near the limbs of an icy Sitka rose,
See the thorn-tree shuddering, hear Frost crack his whip.
Spare, somber seneschal, a pair of Rosa's hips!
Agate-eyed ice diadems in crystals crackle,
Frosty fraternities in formations fractal.
Sleep, Rosamunda, snow showers you with kisses,
Heed not the zephyr--sweet the North wind's cold hisses.
A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...
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There is a song clinging like a drowsy bat to the dingy ceiling of a dungeon, deep within the labyrinthine palace of my memories, a melody...
Alexander Scriabin: the Poem of Ecstasy (English translation by Faubion Bowers) (See the original here .) Spirit, Winged with the...
What left knew how to return. How happy the time when, if a path disappeared, we knew it was only because there was no reason to go onward,...