Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Seul He felt alone sitting on the bench with his friend. —Ils sont partis. As a breeze cleared the cool mist, the old codgers saw the far mountains for first time in months. —Qui est parti? Who has gone? Then the Sun that had hidden for days came out and cast away all doubt. —Les dragons qui ont protégé notre jeunesse. Guy felt old, cold, and very very alone. His friend said nothing for a long time, then pointed at the stone path over the culvert where the creek babbled incessantly. He began to sing. —Sur le Pont d'Avignon On y danse, On y danse Sur le Pont d'Avignon On y danse tous en rond. © Kåre Enga [11.mars.2017] |