Paris Bordone, Allegory with Mars, Venus, Flora and Cupid, 1560 ca The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world’s delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor …
Percy Bysshe Shelley –Mutability (The flower that smiles to-day) Read More »
Louis Janmot, Flower of the fields, 1845 I looked for that which is not, nor can be,And hope deferred made my heart sick in truthBut years must pass before a hope of youthIs resigned utterly.I watched and waited with a steadfast will:And though the object seemed to flee awayThat I so longed for, ever day …
Felix Vallotton, Sunset at Villerville, 1917 We have lost even this twilight.No one saw us this evening hand in handwhile the blue night dropped on the world.I have seen from my windowthe fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.Sometimes a piece of sunburned like a coin in my hand.I remembered you with my soul …
Pablo Neruda – Ancora abbiamo perso questo tramonto / We have lost even this twilight Read More »
Guercino Atlas holding up the celestial globe, 1646 To lift a weight so heavy, would take your courage, Sisyphus!Although one’s heart is in the work, Art is long and Time is short.Far from famous sepulchers toward a lonely cemetery my heart, like muffled drums, goes beating funeral marches.Many a jewel lies buried in darkness and oblivion, far, far away from picks and …
Giorgio De Chirico, Bathers on the beach, 1934 For a long time I dwelt under vast porticos which the ocean suns lit with a thousand colors, the pillars of which, tall, straight, and majestic, made them, in the evening, like basaltic grottos.The billows which cradled the image of the sky mingled, in a solemn, mystical way, the omnipotent chords of …
Charles Baudelaire – La Vita Anteriore / My Former Life Read More »
David Teniers the Younger, Monkeys in the kitchen, c.1650 “Thou hast nor youth nor age, but as it were an after-dinner sleep dreaming of both.” Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. I was neither at the hot gates Nor fought in the warm rain Nor knee …
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