« Home | Voices Ideal and beloved voices of those who are ... » | Hidden From all I've done and all I've said let t... » | When they are roused Try to guard them, poet Howe... » | as much as you can Even if you cannot shape your ... » | "the rising of the spring stirred a serious, mysti... » | "this perfect quiet settled into their house after... » | "when she had been married a little while, she con... » | "it seems that my grandmother did not consider lea... » | "a little too much anger, too often or at the wron... » | from a story written by a friend of a friend: "..... » 

27 November 2007 

Days of 1903

I never found them again -- the things so quickly lost....
the poetic eyes, the pale
face.... in the dusk of the street....

I never found them again -- the things acquired quite by chance,
that I gave up so lightly;
and that later in agony I wanted.
The poetic eyes, the pale face,
those lips, I never found again.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1917)