False night, is this a dream and nothing more?
Théophile Gautier, from Dream; Premières Poésies, 1830–1845 (tr. by Norman Shapiro)
Théophile Gautier, from Night Stroll; Premières Poésies, 1830–1845 (tr. by Norman Shapiro)
I did not lose my heart in summer’s even,
When roses to the moonrise burst apart:
When plumes were under heel and lead was flying,
In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart.
I lost it to a soldier and a foeman,
A chap that did not kill me, but he tried;
That took the sabre straight and took it striking
And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died.
A.E. Housman, from More Poems: XXXVII
Thinking about digital ghosts. The queue of a dead person’s blog still running. Apps and games posting on someone’s Twitter and Facebook. People’s old reddit posts. Long gone folk captured on Google maps. Accounts like houses, waiting for someone to come home.
Mahmoud Darwish, from
Happy (I Know Not Why); Almond Blossoms and Beyond (tr. by Mohammad Shaheen)
Mahmoud Darwish, from Think of Others; Almond Blossoms and Beyond (tr. by Mohammad Shaheen)