The reason for my
silence of the past few days is that from time to time the sheer triviality and
empty-headedness of people, their bovine indifference to all that really
matters, is more than I can bear and I lose patience. Yes, I mean you lot out
there. But a fine Irish poet has put it far better than I can:
Louis MacNeice - Snow
The room was
suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and
pink roses against it
Soundlessly
collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener
than we fancy it.
World is crazier
and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural.
I peel and portion
A tangerine and
spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of
things being various.
And the fire flames
with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful
and gay than one supposes -
On the tongue on
the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands -
There is more than
glass between the snow and the huge roses.
——#——
Oh, the picture:
you do like to see pictures on the blog. here, then, is the writer of the
above:
No comments:
Post a Comment