(no subject)
I'm homesick right now, but not for people, at least completely. I mean, I am, but not family. I'm homesick for friends, for buildings, for food. I'm also kind of down and stressed, which is a bummer. Oh well. Here's an excerpt from a poem by Adam Zagajewski called "To Go to Lvov"
"But scissors cut it, along the line and through
the fiber, tailors, gardners, censors
cut the body and the wreathes, pruning shears worked
diligently, as in a child's cutout
along the dotted line of a roe deer or a swan.
Scissors, penknives, and razo blades scratched,
cut, and shortened the voluptuous dresses
of prelates, of squares and houses, and trees
fell soundlessly, as in a jungle,
and the cathedral trembled, people bade goodbye
without handkerchiefs, no tears, such a dry
mouth, I won't see you anymore, so much death
awaits you, why must every city
be Jarusalem and every man a Jew,
and now in a hurry just
pack, always, each day,
and go breathless, go to Lvov, after all
it exists, quiet and pure as
a peach. It is everywhere."
This poem summarizes a part of what I feel right now, but not all of it. Still, this poem is great, so everyone should look it up in its entirety and enjoy it (especially New Orleans people--it's one of the best poems in terms of exile poetry).
"But scissors cut it, along the line and through
the fiber, tailors, gardners, censors
cut the body and the wreathes, pruning shears worked
diligently, as in a child's cutout
along the dotted line of a roe deer or a swan.
Scissors, penknives, and razo blades scratched,
cut, and shortened the voluptuous dresses
of prelates, of squares and houses, and trees
fell soundlessly, as in a jungle,
and the cathedral trembled, people bade goodbye
without handkerchiefs, no tears, such a dry
mouth, I won't see you anymore, so much death
awaits you, why must every city
be Jarusalem and every man a Jew,
and now in a hurry just
pack, always, each day,
and go breathless, go to Lvov, after all
it exists, quiet and pure as
a peach. It is everywhere."
This poem summarizes a part of what I feel right now, but not all of it. Still, this poem is great, so everyone should look it up in its entirety and enjoy it (especially New Orleans people--it's one of the best poems in terms of exile poetry).