Palace at dusk, the pearl blind is lowered,
Drifting fireflies glide and come to rest;
Through the long night I sew a fine silk jacket–
My thoughts of you, when will they end?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
Palace at dusk, the pearl blind is lowered,
Drifting fireflies glide and come to rest;
Through the long night I sew a fine silk jacket–
My thoughts of you, when will they end?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
We're all on a road to somewhere.
My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
Rincón de ideas y de recetas sencillas
A daily guide on “What to cook?" And "How to cook?”
THE BLOG THAT CELEBRATES MUSIC NO MATTER WHAT...
Katahdin Sheep, Chickens, Ducks, Dogs and Novelist Adrienne Morris live here (with humans).
Enjoy your life as much as you can
Un espacio para la reflexión de anécdotas y cosas que no son del mundo. Un lugar que no pretende ser polémico, pero si causar algún pensamiento en la noche…
1001 steps to becoming a good teacher
Muffins, Coffee and this Blog
IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams
Write. Doodle. Express.
A life in a photobooth.
poetry, music, top ten, punk, culture, literature,art and nonsense
Storytelling
"Footprints of a life hugging expat"
Natalia's space
Everytime the words become even more beautiful.
Yes, one can read them over and over again and never lose one’s admiration.
So beautiful
Glad you like it.
It’s lovely, makes one wonder how written words can be so amazing.
I always return to these poets and never tire of reading them.
I can understand that.