Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
How he feels is entirely a matter of his own, which cannot be influenced by anything or anyone on the outside. His feeling is a steady, unruffled flame, deep and hidden, a profound joy of living and of knowing his power, a joy that is not even conscious of being joy, because it is so steady, natural and unchangeable...
Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
O span of youth! ever-push'd elasticity!
My lovers suffocate me,
Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin,
Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night,
Crying by day, Ahoy! from the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head,
Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush,
Lighting on every moment of my life,
Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses,
Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine.
As long as the sun shall rise goes the old lovers vow.
But we are children of a scientific age and have no time for poetry. Still, I offer a quiet prayer of thanks for the sunlight each time I see your face.
Mal Ava pusta coire lindelya
o Arda lutar Tumnarello!
Love, death, travel, revolt, chaos.
I'm the poet and you're my muse.
We're gonna fuck death away.
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