Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, we ourselves flash and yearn, and moreover my mother told me as a boy (repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored means you have no
Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no inner resources, because I am heavy bored. Peoples bore me, literature bores me, especially great literature, Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes as bad as achilles,
Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me. And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag and somehow a dog has taken itself & its tail considerably away into mountains or sea or sky, leaving behind: me, wag.
lovely to be cheered up by the words of J. Berryman, and to seek out more from him and then discover the wee marvel that is The Wandering Minstrals wherein yourstruly discovered the magnificent tragedy of Patrick Barrington's I Had A Hippopotamous (which may have been inspired by Hillaire Belloc's The Hippopotamous...
now my place in the universe is clearer and I walk with a lightness in my step...
Unt I put a little link to random wandering minstrel out there somewhere on the right, just to make it an easy daily pleasure. Just took me to Auden's Miss Gee...
4 comments:
Meinem kleinen Freund -
Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,
Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
John Berryman
esteban, mi amigo estimado...
lovely to be cheered up by the words of J. Berryman, and to seek out more from him and then discover the wee marvel that is
The Wandering Minstrals wherein yourstruly discovered the magnificent tragedy of Patrick Barrington's I Had A Hippopotamous (which may have been inspired by Hillaire Belloc's The Hippopotamous...
now my place in the universe is clearer and I walk with a lightness in my step...
damn dese uncorrectable comments...
s'pose me better be more carefuls...
Patrick Barrington's
I Had a Hippopotamous
&
oui, c'est vrai!
minstrals should be spelled
m i n s t r e l s...
Unt I put a little link to random wandering minstrel out there somewhere on the right, just to make it an easy daily pleasure. Just took me to Auden's Miss Gee...
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