Monday, 18 November 2013

Poetry Revisited: Temps Perdu

(1931)

I never may turn the loop of a road 
Where sudden, ahead, the sea is Iying, 
But my heart drags down with an ancient load- 
My heart, that a second before was flying. 

I never behold the quivering rain- 
And sweeter the rain than a lover to me- 
But my heart is wild in my breast with pain; 
My heart, that was tapping contentedly. 

There's never a rose spreads new at my door 
Nor a strange bird crosses the moon at night 
But I know I have known its beauty before, 
And a terrible sorrow along with the sight. 

The look of a laurel tree birthed for May 
Or a sycamore bared for a new November 
Is as old and as sad as my furtherest day- 
What is it, what is it, I almost remember?

                                            Dorothy Parker
                                             (1893 - 1967)

4 comments:

  1. I so very rarely see such serious and thoughtful writing by Parker. Thanks for sharing this. I'm a huge fan of her cynicism and snark, but it's really nice to see the depths she truly went o.

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    1. Thanks for your comment Joanne! I'm glad you like the poem.

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  2. Beautiful!!
    Btw, I really like your selection of poetry and books. You have a very good blog!

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    1. Thank you very much for your praise! I'm doing my best.

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