“‘Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere”
–Emily Bronte
Art – Albert Clouard.
Tis moonlight
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Monthly Archives: July 2020
Love is The Fifth Season
Love is the fifth season
It starts in March
With shines of longer days,
guarding the waters more.
It moves along with
greens and joys of May.
It flourishes above the lilacs
And with you I sleep
Amidst lilies-of-the-valley…
It drifts down July dusks
Colored in bluish touches.
……………………………………………
October is the beginning of times
Cutting edges and bringing back
Memories of youth.
Now it is the season to embrace
The truth…
This is an old poem from year 2015.
Also published at Medium.com.
© Iulia Halatz
Art – Viktor Vasnetsov
The Wild Swans
” ‘Do you see this stinging nettle in my hand? Those you must gather, although they will burn your hands to blisters. Crush the nettles with your feet and you will have flax, which you must spin and weave into eleven shirts of mail with long sleeves. Once you throw these over your swan brothers, the spell over them is broken…’ ”
From The Wild Swans by HC Andersen.
Illustration – Florence Harrison
What’s the most epic book ever written?
The Story of San Michele by Axel Munthe
“A man can stand a lot as long as he can stand himself. He can live without hope, without friends, without books, even without music, as long as he can listen to his own thoughts.”
“We know that we are going to die, in fact it is the only thing we know of what is in store for us. All the rest is mere guesswork, and most of the time we guess wrong. Like children in the trackless forest we grope our way through our lives in blissful ignorance of what is going to happen to us from one day to another, what hardships we may have to face, what more or less thrilling adventures we may encounter before the great adventure, the most thrilling of all, the Adventure of Death.”
“Happiness we can only find in ourselves, it is a waste of time to seek for it from others, few have any to spare. Sorrow we have to bear alone as best we can, it is not fair to try to shift it on others, be they men or women. We have to fight our own battles and strike as hard as we can, born fighters as we are.”
“To my amazement, I have heard that there are people who have never seen a gnome. I can’t help pitying these people. I am certain there must be something wrong with their eyesight.”
Answer featured in Quora Digest.
All Roads Lead To Rome
written by: Iulia Halatz
All words lead to Love
And the poetry in the afterLove
I wish I wrote poems
For the dreamers of barren lands.
They do not go to Rome
They go to places
That cannot be.
Maybe love is a colourless, odourless
stainless haze
We see through
with the eyes of
the bricked sky,
pathless oceans
walled shrubberies
streeted lunarian trails
breathing and tingling
scents
In the perfect nightmare
of flowers…
Vines reward our sun
with the sweetness
of grapes
wedded in perpetuity with
the linear shades of amber.
From a Good Place
Where joy is an illumination
To the Place that Cannot Be
They would have worn
The silver claw
of the Moon
above their heads
nightly
daily
musingly
vibrantly…
Also published at Spillwords.com and featured at Quora Digest.
Buried moon at Medium.com
Buried moon, buried moon
Who to talk about at noon
When dreams are plundered by light
And powdered in gold and charcoal dust.
Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse
and at falter to surmise
the scanty slumbering traces
that led stupors into trenches.
The owners of the light
Do not know its might
and the pleasure of the sun
to astound and burn above…
Buried moon, buried moon
I want you soon…
As to play my feral dreams
around the all surviving tunes!
© Iulia Halatz
Published at Medium.com.
Art – Buried moon by Edmund Dulac.
The Moon
I wrote this in 2017.
The Moon
In the evening
with my eyelashes
I kill all the events of the day
I choke perceptions and
reveries green
That could be real
Pending dream.
In the evening
with my fingers
I spin yarns
For your sweet bedlams…
Also published at Spillwords.com.
Also featured in Quora Digest.
Art by Yajuro Takashima.
It’s time
“It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined.”
– Henry James
Art – George Scott, 1934
I dwell in Possibility
I dwell in Possibility
By EMILY DICKINSON
I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –
Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –
Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –
Art – Charles Courtney Curran
Albert Camus’ letter of gratitude to his teacher
Shortly after he received the Nobel Prize, Albert Camus sent this heartwarming letter of gratitude to his childhood teacher.
19 November 1957
Dear Monsieur Germain,
I let the commotion around me these days subside a bit before speaking to you from the bottom of my heart. I have just been given far too great an honor, one I neither sought nor solicited. But when I heard the news, my first thought, after my mother, was of you. Without you, without the affectionate hand you extended to the small poor child that I was, without your teaching and example, none of all this would have happened. I don’t make too much of this sort of honor. But at least it gives me the opportunity to tell you what you have been and still are for me, and to assure you that your efforts, your work, and the generous heart you put into it still live in one of your little schoolboys who, despite the years, has never stopped being your grateful pupil. I embrace you with all my heart.
Albert Camus
The Nobel Prize in Literature 1957 was awarded to Albert Camus “for his important literary production, which with clear-sighted earnestness illuminates the problems of the human conscience in our times.”
