November 12, 2024 11:39 am

BACK OFTEN AND TAKE ME: Poetry, by Konstantinos Kavafis

BACK OFTEN AND TAKE ME     Return often and take me. Back and get me, or feel loved, if the memory of the body awakens, and the old pang passes into the blood, then the lips and skin from rising, and yet it seems that the hands touch. Return often and take me at night, then the lips and …

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WHEN YOU SET OUT FOR ITHACA: Poetry, by Konstantinos Kavafis

WHEN YOU SET OUT FOR ITHACA When you set out for Ithaka, you hope your road is long, full of adventure, full of discovery. The Lestrigoni or Cyclops, the angry Neptune do not worry: it will not be this kind of meetings if your thoughts remain lofty, and a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Cyclops or Lestrigoni …

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RENAISSANCE IN CENTRAL ITALY: All that was is no longer, what would become was born here

In Tuscany, a region of central Italy, the Florentine art school starts – from 1300 to 1500 – new aesthetic, who gradually extend throughout the Italian peninsula. No more images hieratic and fixed, but the living reality, that of men and the countryside, becomes the new frame of expression for architects, painters and sculptors. Initially they dominated by religious themes, …

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PRAYER: Poetry, by Kathleen Jamie

PRAYER Our baby’s heart, on the sixteen-week scan, was a fluttering bird, held in cupped hands. I thought of St Kevin, hands opened in prayer, and a bird of the hedgerow nesting there, and how he’d borne it, until the young had flown, and I prayed: this new heart must outlive my own. (Kathleen Jamie) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Findings-Kathleen-Jamie/dp/0954221745/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

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AS THE MIST LEAVES NO SCAR: Poetry, by Leonard Cohen

AS THE MIST LEAVES NO SCAR On the dark green hill, So my body leaves no scar On you, nor ever will. When wind and hawk encounter, What remains to keep? So you and I encounter, Then turn, then fall to sleep. As many nights endure, without a moon or star. So will we endure, when one is gone and …

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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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