Today it's summer, the longest day of the year, it should be the most lively then ! more time to be alive, but is it really reasonnable ?
no matter ! i had a music in the hear, a memory when i was a child, it says ': why do birds suddenly appear, every time that you're near, just like me, they long to be close to you' The Carpenters sang that and the voice of the woman singing was moving me so much, delicate and precise, sensual and sweet. today i waited for the birds coming as i was admiring trees and awaking nature
and but the birds did not come - though i wear a beautiful dress, green, to feel like a leaf, fresh and shivering, ready to fill your eyes with my sweetness - i was like a spot of green velvet lost on the chalk of the alley - the warm wind of summer pushed me home with a song in mind for the sun of tomorrow, with the green of my nature, the words of my mind, the red of my dreams for my nights,
a rose of Corfu in one hand and a mask of Venise in the other. Sometimes it's hard to not to get lost when one is different, life should never contrive nature, that's why poetry was created.
Oh je pourrais écrire des heures à attendre de voir apparaitre ces quelques lettres sur l'écran, pour attire juste ce petit souffle d'esprit que tu m'offres parfois avec tant de mansuétude.


SIR WALTER SCOTT

THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO FIRST.

The Chase.

XII.

Boon nature scattered, free and wild,
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.
Here eglantine embalmed the air,
Hawthorn and hazel mingled there;
The primrose pale and violet flower
Found in each cliff a narrow bower;
Foxglove and nightshade, side by side,
Emblems of punishment and pride,
Grouped their dark hues with every stain
The weather-beaten crags retain.
With boughs that quaked at every breath,
Gray birch and aspen wept beneath;
Aloft, the ash and warrior oak
Cast anchor in the rifted rock;
And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung
His shattered trunk, and frequent flung,
Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high,
His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.
Highest of all, where white peaks glanced,
Where glistening streamers waved and danced,
The wanderer's eye could barely view
The summer heaven's delicious blue;
So wondrous wild, the whole might seem
The scenery of a fairy dream.

I wait, not like a flower, not for the sun, not for the rain, but like the flower, i'll be blooming to feel him :))