Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black racoon--
For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.
For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;
Write this. We have burned all their villages
Write this. We have burned all the villages and the people in them
Write this. We have adopted their customs and their manner of dress
Write this. A word may be shaped like a bed, a basket of tears or an X
In the notebook it says, It is the time of mutations, laughter at jokes,
secrets beyond the boundaries of speech
I listen to songs
of someone handsome
at the apex of night
the Milky Way overflows
the stars boil over and fall
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
a hot day, white light
lime green leaves and roses gleam
in the starlight phase
with its fierce glare everywhere
except long shadows
captives of white heat
as sun shows its true colors
gold sprinkled, dew shimmered,
elusively mountainous night sky;
With the porcelain and mother-of-pearl,
dragonfly wing, china-and-talc,
silvery, glowing moon hung on it.
A milk-gilded veil of clouds
In the stillness of the Christmas Eve silent night,
Colored lights are blinking as the snowflakes fall,
And full of yuletide joy, my eyes behold the sight,
Of the vivid Christmas star, as lovely as I recall!
In the spirit of the season, I say a fervent prayer,
That our planet sees healing, and also lives in love.
Pale moon is shining, as snowflakes dance in midair,
And my path is illumined by a twinkling star above!
White rapids rushing for the falls,
Morgan horses loosed from their stalls,
From fragrant sunsets to nightfalls,
Songbirds answering southern calls.
Precious moments of golden hours,
Butterflies midst cherry flowers,
Rainbow's appearance with colors,
Sun and silver moon encounters,
It came in the blackness of midnight,
A beam in the darkness, glowing white,
And soared to space, above the crowd,
Where scintillating gleam is allowed!
His torch lit the way for many others,
Pursuing his footsteps through the years,
And altered extremely, so much of fate,
So that for destiny they weren't late.