( via / via )

"Stars and blossoming fruit trees..."

"There is a world that poets cannot seem to enter. It is the world everybody else lives in. And the only thing poets seem to have in common is their yearning to enter this world." --Mary Ruefle (via @neonpajamas)

Quietly working away.

"Evening Song

At evening, when we walk on dark trails,
our bleached selves appear before us.

Thirsty
we drink from the pond’s white water,
the sweetness of our mournful childhood.

Weary, we rest beneath the elderberry
to behold the dawning gulls.

Spring clouds rise above the town’s dark thoughts—
mute, the monks’ nobler days.

As I took your tiny hands
your round eyes gently broke upon me.
This was long ago.

And yet, when darker songs descend upon the soul,
you appear—a whiteness—in your friend’s autumn landscape."

--Georg Trakl. Translated by Eric Plattner

The Wood at Midwinter.