1 month agoMarch 24, 2013 1 note
Of all our sunny world
I wish only for a garden sofa
where a cat is sunning itself.
There I should sit
with a letter at my breast,
a single small letter.
That is what my dream looks like.
A Wish Edith Södergran
1 month agoMarch 24, 2013 2 notes
3 months agoFebruary 17, 2013 1 note
My soul loves foreign lands so much
as if it had no homeland.
In far-off lands stand the great stones
on which my thoughts rest.
It was a foreigner who wrote the strange words
on the hard board that is called my soul.
Days and nights I lie and think
about things that never happened:
my thirsty soul was once given a drink.
Foreign Lands Edith Södergran 1916
3 months agoFebruary 15, 2013 1 note
3 months agoFebruary 9, 2013 1 note
3 months agoFebruary 7, 2013 3 notes
On Another’s Sorrow
Can I see anothers woe,
And not be in sorrow too.
Can I see anothers grief,
And not seek for kind of relief.
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrows share,
Can a father see his child,
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d.
Can a mother sit and hear,
An infant groan an infant fear —
No no never can it be.
Never never can it be.
And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small birds grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear —
And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infants tear.
On Another’s Sorrow William Blake 1789
3 months agoJanuary 24, 2013 4 notes
3 months agoJanuary 23, 2013 2 notes