New Civilization News: Litanies of the Rose    
 Litanies of the Rose4 comments
picture6 Mar 2005 @ 01:35, by ida

Litanies of the Rose — by Remy de Gourmont

Rose with dark eyes,
mirror of your nothingness,
rose with dark eyes,
make us believe in the mystery,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.

Rose the colour of pure gold,
oh safe deposit of the ideal,
rose the colour of pure gold,
give us the key of your womb,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.



Rose the colour of silver,
censer of our dreams,
rose the colour of silver,
take our heart and turn it into smoke,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.


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4 comments

6 Mar 2005 @ 03:09 by bombadil : Life is full of tricks.........
Life itself may be a trick.  

6 Mar 2005 @ 16:30 by koravya : Life is full of surprises
The trick is to take
as little as possible
for granted.  

11 Mar 2005 @ 16:23 by swan : Life is full of surprises
the trick is not to expect anything'
and revel in joy
when the miracles occur.  

12 Mar 2005 @ 20:23 by tlingel :

"Current-borne, wave-flung, tugged hugely by the whole might of ocean, the jellyfish drifts in the tidal abyss. The light shines through it, and the dark enters it. . . .

Borne, flung, tugged from anywhere to anywhere, for in the deep sea there is no compass but nearer and farther, higher and lower, the jellyfish bangs and sways; pulses move slight and quick within it, as the vast diurnal pulses beat in the moondriven sea. Hanging, swaying, pulsing, the most vulnerable and insubstantial creature, it has for its defense the violence and power of the whole ocean, to which it has entrusted its being, its going, and its will.

But here rise the stubborn continents. The shelves of gravel and the cliffs of rock break from water baldly into air, that dry, terrible outerspace of radiance and instabi'li'ty, where there is no support for life. And now, now the currents mislead and the waves betray, breaking their endless circle, to leap up in loud foam against rock and air, breaking . . . .

What will the creature made all of seadrift do on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking?"

---Ursula K. Le Guin: The Lathe of Heaven  

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