VEF Blog

BernardNowman le 08-08-2024 à 17:04:22

gladys-lemire le 08-08-2024 à 16:55:46
poeme



And this London of cast iron and bronze, my soul,

Where iron plates clatter under sheds,

Where sails go away, without Notre-Dame

For a star, go away, over there, towards chance.


Stations of soot and smoke, where gas cries

Its distant silver spleens towards paths of lightning,

Where beasts of boredom yawn at the hour

Doleful immensely, which rings at Westminster.


And these infinite quays of fatal lanterns,

Parques whose spindles plunge to the depths,

And these drowned sailors, under petals

Of flowers of mud where the flame puts gleams.


And these shawls and these gestures of drunken women,

And these alcohols in letters of gold up to the roof,

And suddenly death among these crowds,

O my soul of the evening, this black London which drags in you!

gladys-lemire le 08-08-2024 à 16:45:04
beautiful little family always