Thursday, May 31, 2007

Lies About Love

We are a liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.
The love I feel for my friend, this year,
is different from the love I felt last year.
If it were not so, it would be a lie.
Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with a fixed value
instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.

David Herbert Lawrence 1885 – 1930

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

My Pretty Rose Tree

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said "I've a pretty rose tree,"
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

William Blake 1757 – 1827

The Moon Has Sunk

The moon has sunk and the Pleiads,
And midnight is gone,
And the hours are passing, passing,
And I lie alone.

Sappho 630 BC - 570 BC?

Monday, May 28, 2007

Excerpt from Sonnet LXI

When love like a huge wave
carried us, crashed us against the boulder,
it milled us into a single flour.

Pablo Neruda 1904 – 1973