Monday, September 07, 2009
Let it live!
In my country, we prefer the tender hardships of spring and its barely-feathered birds to lofty goals.
Truth is waiting for dawn beside a candle. The window is filthy and neglected. But this doesn’t matter to the one keeping vigil.
In my country, we don’t question an emotional man.
There isn’t a dark shadow on the capsized boat.
Practically not saying hello is unknown in my country.
We only borrow that which can be given back many times over.
There are leaves, - yes, many leaves - on the trees in my country. The branches are free not to choose to bear fruit.
We don’t believe in the goodwill of the conqueror.
In my country, we give thanks.
René Char
// posted by George Manka @ 12:21 PM 
