Winter Story

The light of the light among the pines, do I
understand these signs of incandescent sorrow?br> A hanged man sways in the tree marked with the
lilac cross.
Until he managed to slip out of my dream and
enter my room , through the window, in complicity
with the midnight wind.
Alejandra Pizarnik
Agentina


In Winter

In these long, slow winter hours my Carolina
sits by the fire that glimmers in the salon,
curled up or half curled up in the softest chair,
enveloped in her enormous sable coat.

The white angora stretches out beside her,
rubbing his nose against the lace of her skirt;
behind them, the porcelain jardinieres from China
loom up against the Japanese silk screen.

Carolina is drugged with the sly philters of sleep.
I enter without a word, take off my gray coat,
and kiss her face, which is as rosy and bright

as a red rose that once was a fleur-de-lis.
She opens her eyes and looks at me with a smile.
Outside, the snow is still falling over Paris.
Ruben Dario


A sad tale's best for winter.
I have one of sprites and goblins.
William Shakespeare

The phrase "The Winter of our discontent"
comes from William Shakespeare's
King Richard the 3rd.



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