Caravaggio, Bacchus, c. 1595 This bread I break was once the oat, This wine upon a foreign tree Plunged in its fruit; Man in the day or wine at night Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy. Once in this time wine the summer blood Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine, Once …
Dylan Thomas – Questo pane che spezzo / This bread I break Read More »
Dima Dmitriev, Footpath, 2010 A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing a flowery band to bind us to the earth, spite of despondence, …
Frederick Carl Frieseke, Late October, 1909 The morns are meeker than they were, the nuts are getting brown; the berry’s cheek is plumper, the rose is out of town.The maple wears a gayer scarf, the field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. Sono più miti le mattine più …
Leopold von Kalckreuth, Sunday afternoon, 1893 I sing to use the Waiting my bonnet but to tie and shut the door unto my house no more to do have I till his best step approaching we journey to the Day and tell each other how we sung to keep the Dark away. Io canto per …
Emily Dickinson – Io canto per riempire l’attesa / I sing to use the Waiting Read More »
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