Yesterday’s poetry including the words
The silent fanfare of the moon
scatters the clouds.
so let’s start today with a pale fanfare of daffodil trumpets.
Continue reading “pale fanfare”
Yesterday’s poetry including the words
The silent fanfare of the moon
scatters the clouds.
so let’s start today with a pale fanfare of daffodil trumpets.
Continue reading “pale fanfare”
Last week, someone sent me a text that included this translated quotation from Pessoa:
El poeta es un fingidor.
Finge tan completamente
Que hasta finge que es dolor
El dolor que de veras siente.
No attribution was given to the translator, but it seems to be faithful enough to the original Portuguese that perhaps that isn’t necessary:
O poeta é um fingidor.
Finge tão completamente
Que chega a fingir que é dor
A dor que deveras sente.
Now, though, I’m wondering how on earth I’d say that in English.
Continue reading “poet and pretender”