Moonlight fills the laurels
Like music. The moonlit
Air does not move. Your white
Face moves towards my face.
Voluptuous sorrow
Holds us like a cobweb
Like a song, a perfume, the moonlight.
From "Confusion of the Senses" by Kenneth Rexroth. You can read the complete poem and listen to a recording of it at this interview with poet Sam Hamill. A very good article by Hamill on Rexroth can be found here.
The Embrace, Gustav Klimt (1862-1918)
1 comment:
That just made me smile in its melancholy...thank you for that!
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