Expect a most agreeable letter, for not being overburdened with subject (having nothing at all to say), there shall be no
check to my genius from beginning to end.
--Jane Austen
how should another know your mind?
And there was a beautiful view
But nobody could see.
Cause everybody on the island
Was saying: Look at me! Look at me!
--Laurie Anderson
will he discern what quickens you?
Monday, January 18, 2010 @ 4:41 AM
"You know, I think more and more often" Tadeusz Borowski
You know, I think more and more often that I should go back. Maybe I'll meet you. And happiness? Happiness is being sad together.
So I look through the moonlit window and listen. Nothing. A breeze stirs somewhere. Alone among the leaves - the moon.
Like a golden wheel it rolls above the windblown leaves. Such moons, only paler, shone over the Wisla.
Even the Big Dipper on its course stops in a tree at midnight, just like at home. But why here? Truly, I don't know.
What's here? Longing and sleepless nights, unknown streets and somebody's verse. I live here as a nobody: a Displaced Person.
I think of you. I know I must leave. Perhaps we can return to our past, but I know neither what youth will be like nor where you are.
But I'm yours or no one's forever. Listen, listen, read this poem if somewhere you are alive.