måndag 15 december 2008

Lucka 15

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading
something beautiful, ready always to apprehend in
the flow of language the sudden flash of poetry.
0000000000 Gaston Bachelard
The New Novel, 1877, by Winslow Homer
O flowers they fade because they are moving swiftly; a little torrent of life
leaps up to the summit of the stem, gleams, turns over round the bend
of the parabola of curved flight,
sinks, and is gone, like a comet curving into the invisible.

O flowers they are all the time travelling
like comets, and they come into our ken
for a day, for two days, and withdraw, slowly vanish again.

And we, we must take them on the wing, and let them go.
Embalmed flowers are not flowers, immortelles are not flowers;
flowers are just a motion, a swift motion, a coloured gesture;
that is their loveliness. And that is love.

From Fidelity by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930)

2 kommentarer:

  1. I love that poem, thank you for reminding me of it. I read your blog nearly every day and enjoy it enormously. Thank you.


  2. It's nice to see you here!
    This is one of my favorite poems too. It helped me through a dark period, many years ago, when I had lost a close friend.