Friday, July 25, 2003

Iris, you might like to see this defense of romance novels.

Meanwhile, I spent an hour or so yesterday evening reading poetry for pleasure. What a luxury. Back in thesis mode, I did actually read texts that weren't about thirteenth-century letter collections, but they were mostly novels of the Extreme Junk Reread variety.

Listen to this, from the early-mid 20th century Greek poet George Seferis, trans. by Rex Warner:

The ropes have broken now; only their marks on the well's mouth
Remind us of our departed happiness:
The fingers on the rim, as the poet says,
The fingers feel for a moment the cool of the stone
And the body's fever passes into the stone
And the cave stakes its soul and loses it
Every second, full of silence, without a drop.

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