Reading: M – Black Monday by Marcin Świetlicki
Today there is this compact poem by Marcin Świetlicki for our ideosyncratic Polish: przedzieleni światłem. I think it is a brilliant metaphor for its strangeness and its re-interpretation of loss as the completion of 'everything'. The poem says nothing about the woman's motives to reject her suitor (I assume the gender because the author is ...
we hasten not
it is high noon and the bright fruits shine in the air is a promise of decay we let the sun pour its old light on us and bury imagination in warm smiles we save up for higher seasons, for longer shadows for deeper promises and gentler declines slow and infinite are our thoughts, we ...