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Skribent: Simon
Emne: Re: Poetisk fryd..
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Hej RM..
Hva’ sir mon hr. Talpa til at du sådan slår rødder på 1. sal, som en anden hobbit? Ja man ligner sgu’ nærmest en forårsrulle i det her vejr, med de momentvise sommerdage som den just overståede weekend, hvor vi faktisk ku’ sidde under himmellyshavet til sent aften og helt uden massemord på draculiner, der nok ska’ arrivere for at kræve deres skålpund blod - uf!
Here is this spring, stars float along the void;
Here in this ornamental winter
Down pelts the naked weather;
This summer buries a spring bird.
Symbols are selected from the years’
Slow rounding of four seasons’ coasts,
In autumn teach three seasons’ fires
And four birds’ notes.
I should tell summer from the trees, the worms
Tell, if at all, the winters’ storms
Or the funeral of the sun;
I should learn spring by the cuckooing,
And the slug should teach me destruction.
A worm tells summer better than the clock,
The slug’s a living calendar of days;
What shall it tell me if a timeless insect
Says the world wears away?
- Dylan Thomas.
mvh
Simon
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