(no subject)

[doyle]

This is already on the sidebar of my journal but it's lovely and only thirty words long and I'm in a poetry mood.

He loved three things:
White fowls, evensong,
And antique maps of America.

He hated the crying of children,
Raspberry jam at tea,
And female hysteria.

And I was his wife.

- Anna Ahkmatova

I've seen a translation of this where the last line is "and yet he married me!" which completely alters the tone of the poem. The translation above was the first I read, and it's my favourite.

And a poem marymac introduced me to in first year - much as I love my course, some days I feel like this.

When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

- Walt Whitman

Comments

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Well, crack'll do that for you...

[marymac.livejournal.com]

As will six months sleep deprivation...

Hey, I've written 350 words! Go me!