We beg your patience

The dogs and I are all feeling logy at the end of a hot, busy day. We just don't have the energy to post. Check back tomorrow for a few words about a book, and a review of Valentino: The Last Emperor.

Meanwhile, ponder this snippet of verse from Cesare Pavese. The complete poem is here.

In the sprawling vineyards, the sharp, sweet voice
of the sun whispers through the diaphanous blaze,
as if the air trembled. Grass trembles around her.
The grass is young still, like the heat of the sun.
The dead are young too, while memories live.

From "The Drunk Old Woman" by Cesare Pavese, translated by Geoffrey Brock.


Nymph and Hound, Jacob Matham, 1607-1610.