"Picture and text are showing the transitory character of reality"
"I dug a grave under an oak-tree. With infinite care, I stamped my spade Into the heavy grass. The sod sucked it, And I drew it out with effort, Watching the steel run liquid in the moonlight As it came clear. I stooped, and dug, and never turned, For behind me, On the dried leaves, My own face lay like a white pebble, Waiting." (Amy Lowell in Pictures from the floating world) Liège (B)
“We do not play on graves
because there isn’t room.
Besides it isn’t even.
It slants and people come
and put a flower on it
and hang their faces so.
We’re fearing that their hearts
will drop and crush our pretty play.
And so we move as far as enemies away,
just looking round to see
how far it is occasionally.”
(E. Dickinson in We do not play on graves)
Jemeppe (B)
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.”
(M.E. Frye in Do not stand at my grave and weep)
Lanaye (B)
