Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Were we only white birds...

Would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!

We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;

And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,

Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;

Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,

Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:

For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!

I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,

Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;

Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,

Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!

(W.B. Yeats: The White Birds)


  1. inca imi vine greu sa cred ca sunt reale, aceste pasari -

    nu sunt, nu-i asa?

  2. si nici un raspuns, si nici o postare de bun-ramas hmmm

  3. si mie inca imi vine greu sa cred ca sunt reale.
    dar sunt, si asta ma bucura.

  4. hello, pensum.
    I am so glad you liked it.
    these are my favourite shots so far ;)

    thank you for your visit and for your word!


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Starea ta naturala (perfecţiunea) nu este nici entuziasmul, nici descurajarea. Starea ta naturală este liniştea. * Iubirea musei nu e pasională, e totală. Musa cunoaşte ceva asemănător adoraţiei, dar mai adânc, mai liniştit. Vă scriu din altă lume... * (Gellu Naum: Calea Şearpelui)

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