James Joyce (cu putina intarziere)

Acum 2 zile s-au implinit 69 de ani de la moartea marelui scriitor James Joyce. Cum el mi-a influentat o foarte mare parte din gandirea pe care o am acum, o sa ii dedic acest post.


What counsel has the hooded moon

Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,

Of Love in ancient plenilune,

Glory and stars beneath his feet–

A sage that is but kith and kin

With the comedian Capuchin?

Believe me rather that am wise

In disregard of the divine,

A glory kindles in those eyes,

Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!

No more be tears in moon or mist

For thee, sweet sentimentalist.


Gaunt in gloom,

The pale stars their torches,

Enshrouded, wave.

Ghostfires from heaven’s far verges faint illume,

Arches on soaring arches,

Night’s sindark nave.


The lost hosts awaken

To service till

In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,

Raised when she has and shaken

Her thurible.

And long and loud,

To night’s nave upsoaring,

A starknell tolls

As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,

Voidward from the adoring

Waste of souls.


Winds of May, that dance on the sea,

Dancing a ring-around in glee

From furrow to furrow, while overhead

The foam flies up to be garlanded,

In silvery arches spanning the air,

Saw you my true love anywhere?

Welladay! Welladay!

For the winds of May!

Love is unhappy when love is away!

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