One often makes a remark and only later sees how true it is.
Ludwig Wittgenstein - Journal entry (11 October 1914), p. 10e
Ludwig Wittgenstein - Journal entry (11 October 1914), p. 10e
Forwarded from tomrum
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker’s tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I’ll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
One cigarette - Edwin Morgan
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker’s tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I’ll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
One cigarette - Edwin Morgan
Tears... again these bitter tears,
For broken dreams that flew far away,
For dreaded sadness that nothing cheers,
For new darkness, that nothing keeps at bay.
What is to come? More such torment?
No, its enough... It is time to rest, let go,
And to forget the sounds of lament,
A heart is full and can stand it no more.
Who is singing in the shade of the birch tree?
The sounds are familiar — the tears again...
These tears are for my homeland and to me
They are full of longing, worry and pain.
I am in my beloved country; yet, my grave —
Heart languishes in tears, I weep...
Now it seems that only in a cold grave
I will be able to forget and find some sleep.
S. Esenin - Tears
For broken dreams that flew far away,
For dreaded sadness that nothing cheers,
For new darkness, that nothing keeps at bay.
What is to come? More such torment?
No, its enough... It is time to rest, let go,
And to forget the sounds of lament,
A heart is full and can stand it no more.
Who is singing in the shade of the birch tree?
The sounds are familiar — the tears again...
These tears are for my homeland and to me
They are full of longing, worry and pain.
I am in my beloved country; yet, my grave —
Heart languishes in tears, I weep...
Now it seems that only in a cold grave
I will be able to forget and find some sleep.
S. Esenin - Tears
Forwarded from e n j i
That's the thing about Leidenschaft
The word Passion can not fully translate the meaning of the word Leidenschaft, since Leidenschaft consists of "Leiden", pain, and Schaft, which in this case translates to the process of creating something.
This sentence, taken literally or considering what I just told you about Leidenschaft means our body craves this form of engagement with pain, and I think that's another interesting layer to it.
The word Passion can not fully translate the meaning of the word Leidenschaft, since Leidenschaft consists of "Leiden", pain, and Schaft, which in this case translates to the process of creating something.
This sentence, taken literally or considering what I just told you about Leidenschaft means our body craves this form of engagement with pain, and I think that's another interesting layer to it.