Apr. 13th, 2011

starlady: (compass)
This is the poem I've been posting, very slowly, in the cut-text of my translation posts. Readers of Philip Pullman will recognize the last stanza as the epigraph to The Amber Spyglass.


"Worse than the sunflower," she had said.
But the new dimension of truth had only recently
Burst in on us. Now it was to be condemned.
And in vagrant shadow her mothball truth is eaten.
In cool, like-it-or-not shadow the humdrum is consumed.
Tired housewives begat it some decades ago,
A small piece of truth that is it was honey to the lips
Was also millions of miles from filling the place reserved for it.
You see how honey crumbles your universe
Which seems like an institution – how many walls?

Then everything, in her belief, was to be submerged/And soon. )

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starlady: Raven on a MacBook (Default)
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