Αρχείο για Φεβρουαρίου, 2006

You are old Father William

Posted in Lewis Carroll with tags , , on 23/02/2006 by Magica de Spell

Για τα γενέθλια του Sraosha και του Rakasha


`You are old, Father William,’ the young man said,
`And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head–
Do you think, at your age, it is right?’

`In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son,
`I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.’

`You are old,’ said the youth, `as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door–
Pray, what is the reason of that?’

`In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
`I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment–one shilling the box–
Allow me to sell you a couple?’

`You are old,’ said the youth, `and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak–
Pray how did you manage to do it?’

`In my youth,’ said his father, `I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.’

`You are old,’ said the youth, `one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose–
What made you so awfully clever?’

`I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’
Said his father; `don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’

ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND
Lewis Carroll

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She Walks in Beauty

Posted in George Gordon Lord Byron with tags , , on 13/02/2006 by Magica de Spell


Margeaux in Silk
Originally uploaded by Jennifer Esperanza.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

George Gordon Lord Byron

ΕΡΩΤΑΣ

Posted in Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος with tags , on 10/02/2006 by Magica de Spell


Lovers
Originally uploaded by aliasgrace.

Να σου γλείψω τα χέρια, να σου γλείψω τα πόδια –

η αγάπη κερδίζεται με την υποταγή.

Δεν ξέρω πως αντιλαμβάνεσαι εσύ τον έρωτα.

Δεν είναι μόνο μούσκεμα χειλιών,

φυτέματα αγκαλιασμάτων στις μασχάλες,

συσκότιση παραπόνου,

παρηγοριά σπασμών.

Είναι προπάντων επαλήθευση της μοναξιάς μας,

όταν επιχειρούμε να κουρνιάσουμε σε δυσκολοκατάχτητο κορμί.

Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος

Το γλυπτό της φωτογραφίας είναι του Gustav Vigeland από το Vigeland Park του Oslo. Ο καλλιτέχνης έχει γεμίσει το πάρκο με τρεις συνθέσεις γλυπτών, που όλες περιγράφουν το κύκλο της ζωής, όπως τον είδε σε 3 διαφορετικές φάσεις του έργου του. Είναι ένα από τα πο συγκλονιστικά πράγματα που έχω δει στη ζωή μου. Και το είδα σ’ ένα από τα ωραιότερα ταξίδια που έχω κάνει.

Mad Girl’s Love Song

Posted in Sylvia Plath with tags , , on 07/02/2006 by Magica de Spell



Originally uploaded by _rebekka.

«I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)»

Sylvia Plath