jeudi 17 juillet 2014

Fear No Angst


for there is a pool of abrazos in each and every one of us





quelque part, des montagnes sont plantées dans le sol






Night in the socket rounds,

Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;

Day lights the bone;

Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin

The winter's robes;

The film of spring is hanging from the lids.


Light breaks on secret lots,

On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;

When logics die,

The secret of the soil grows through the eye,

And blood jumps in the sun;

Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.


Dylan Thomas







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