Books

May 15
2014

The book-2                                  / Lamayuru, Ladak /

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul.  –  Emily Dickinson

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A door

Dec 17
2013

The door E. Dickenson                                                            / Paris /

 A door just opened on a street

I, lost, was passing by

An instant’s width of warmth disclosed

And wealth, and company.

 

The door as sudden shut,

and I, I, lost, was passing by 

Lost doubly,

but by contrast most

Enlightening misery. – Emily Dickinson

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Sunrise and Sunset

Jan 16
2013

Sunset Emily Dikenson                                  / Namibia /

Sunrise and Sunset

I’ll tell you how the sun rose,

A ribbon at a time.

The steeples swam in amethyst,

The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets,

The bobolinks begun.

Then I said softly to myself,

That must have been the sun!

But how he set, I know not.

There seemed a purple stile

Which little yellow boys and girls

Were climbing all the while

Till when they reached the other side,

A dominie in gray

Put gently up the evening bars,

And led the flock away. – Emily Dickinson

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Hope

Mar 13
2011

Hope Emilie Dickenson-1 - copie                                                       /Paris/

Hope is a strange invention –

A patient of the Heart –

In unremitting action

Yet never wearing out –

Of this electric Adjunct

Not anything is known

But its unique momentum

Embellish all we own –

Emily Dickinson

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Beauté – Vérité

Mar 12
2011

Nouvelle Zellande

Je suis morte pour la beauté,

Mais à peine étais-je ajustée dans la tombe

Qu’un être mort pour la vérité

Fut couché dans une chambre adjacente :

« Pourquoi tombé ? », souffla t-il

« Pour la beauté » répondis-je

« Et moi pour la vérité – elle ne fût qu’un », dit il.

Alors comme des parents réunis un soir

Nous causâmes de chambre à chambre

Avant que la mousse ait atteint nos lèvres

Et recouvre nos noms.

Emilie Dickinson

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