FANTASY: Poetry, by John Keats

FANTASY Leave always wandering imagination, the pleasure is always somewhere else, and it melts, only to touch sweet, like the bubbles when rain hits. Let her then wander, her, the winged, for the thought that even in front of it lies. Opens the door to the cage of the mind, and you’ll see, it will launch flying into the sky. …

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CLOTHING: Poetry of Wislawa Szymborska

CLOTHING You take off, we take off, we remove coats, jackets, waistcoats, blouses of wool, cotton, terylene, skirts, pants, socks, underwear, laying, hanging, throwing on backs of chairs, doors screens. For now, he says the doctor, nothing serious; you put on, rest, take a trip, take the case, after lunch, in the evening; come back in three months, six a …

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THE ORANGE: Poem by Jacques Prévert

THE ORANGE An orange on the table, your dress on the rug, and in my bed, sweet present of the present, freshness of the night, heat of my life. (Jacques Prévert) http://www.amazon.com/Paroles-French-Edition-Jacques-Prevert/dp/2070367622

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TRIP TO BUDAPEST: Neighborhoods Habsburg and ancient baths, but also special workshops, where observe a time that has never off

I am sure that you will have already photographed the Chain Bridge (one of the eight bridges citizens, along with many other beautiful things of Budapest), so I’ll talk about something else, such as shop Pannon Antik – a workshop in the heart of Pest, really rich in memories of the past have not yet been turned off). http://www.budapest.com/travel/tourist_information/information_offices.en.html?sid=4sh33rg3d7u6sciqooplmtnhf2 Do …

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WHEN YOU WILL BE OLD: Poetry, by William Butler Yeats

WHEN YOU WILL BE OLD When you’re old, wavering between fire and waking take this book, read it unhurriedly and dreams of the sweetness of your eyes for a time, and their shadows. How many loved your sweet grace of that time, and the beauty of a true or false love. But one only loved your soul pilgrim, and the …

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WHAT WOULD NOT THIS WORLD: Poetry, by Samuel Beckett

WHAT WOULD NOT THIS WORLD What would I do without ever this world, faceless or questions, where to be but for a moment in which each instant, spills into the void of oblivion have been without this wave where finally will collapse together body and shadow. What would I do without this ever silent abyss of whispers, panting furiously rescue …

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