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.
Rilke (Leonid Pasternak, 1900) Image credit to Wikimedia Commons GONG Sound, no longer measurable with the sense of hearing. As ...
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Alexander Scriabin: the Poem of Ecstasy (English translation by Faubion Bowers) (See the original here .) Spirit, Winged with the...
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...
A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...