thy breast is a tomb softer than flowers
Fragments of Sappho, circa 630 - 580 BC. Translated by Anne Carson.
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— Mary Oliver, Love Sorrow
-Alice de Chambrier
I would like to pour into a song my whole soul,
The light of the blue sky, the perfume of the woods,
The vigor of the sun and the warmth of the flame,
And all the beauty in a myriad voices contained…
“Reconnaissante au doux charme qui se prolonge, / J’offrirai le parfum de mon âme à la nuit.”
—
Renée Vivien - Le Ténébreux Jardin
Pleased by this lingering sweet delight,
I will offer the perfume of my soul to the night.
“(She had the sea within her soul, continuously.)”
— Salvatore Quasimodo, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “The Tall Schooner,”
“It’s summer, which means my skin is all honey before noon. Which means I’m celebrating the anniversaries of lovers I never kissed and bodies I never loved. Which means the air is humid as an open mouth with all this wanting.”
— POPSICLES AND GEORGIA O’KEEFFE PAINTINGS by Ashe Vernon (via a-quiet-old-soul)
