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When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.
When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.
phylomath's recent review of Alinea,greycat's impending adoption of a Japanese bobtail cat, and
In the interest of having more excuses / digital guilt-trips to prod me into posting here, I'm starting a new posting series. Every Tuesday I'll post a poem, beginning this week with a lovely poem by French Surrealist Robert Desnos.
The Landscape
by Robert Desnos
I dreamt of loving. The dream remains, but love
is no longer those lilacs and roses whose breath
filled the broad woods, where the sail of a flame
lay at the end of each arrow-straight path.
I dreamt of loving. The dream remains, but love
is no longer that storm whose white nerve sparked
the castle towers, or left the mind unrhymed,
or flared an instant, just where the road forked.
It is the star struck under my heel in the night.
It is the word no book on earth defines.
It is the foam on the wave, the cloud in the sky.
As they age, all things grow rigid and bright.
The streets fall nameless, and the knots untie.
Now, with this landscape, I fix; I shine.
(Translated from the French by Don Paterson)
minimalrobot and I will probably soon be doing another DJ set at FactoryPeople.
hujhax, this meme lets you make me cool enough to hang out with you by guiding my cultural consumption. After this, maybe you'll actually return my calls!hangingfire, here's a music meme. Someone provides you with a letter, and you list 5 to 10 songs whose titles start with said letter, and little blurb on why you chose them. Here's my list for the letter H. Let me know if you'd like to play, and I'll give you a letter.hangingfire and shadyglenn.)Joy be written on the earth...it's both satire, and sincerity, all of a piece.
And the sky above
Jesus star that shines so bright
Gather us in love
hangingfire. Go read this interesting article by Momus on the cute little Japanese knitted dolls called amigurumi. Chortle at the tongue-in-cheek social commentary. Then Google away and find out how to make one. You know you want to. 
la_directora posted one of my favorite funny bits of MINI marketing, so that inspired me to unleash a pile of funny links I've collected while waiting for the MINI to arrive. A couple of these are borderline Not Safe For Work, so I'll label those NSFW. 
timeasmymeasure
