Sailing away

 

Only a tiny boat to accompany all my dear fallen orchid flowers in the afterlife

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15836#sthash.gIxFJwCQ.dpuf

 

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die!

 

— John Donne "Death Be Not Proud"

 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15836#sthash.gIxFJwCQ.dpuf

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15836#sthash.gIxFJwCQ.dpuf

Choosing tough words, granite, flint to break the ice

Where I lived – winter and hard earth. 
I sat in my cold stone room
choosing tough words, granite, flint,

to break the ice. My broken heart – 
I tried that, but it skimmed, 
flat, over the frozen lake.

She came from a long, long way,
but I saw her at last, walking,
my daughter, my girl, across the fields,

in bare feet, bringing all spring’s flowers
to her mother’s house. I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,

the blue sky smiling, none too soon
with the small shy mouth of a new moon.

— Carol Ann Duffy "Demeter"

Plough through

Canción otoñal

[...] Hoy siento en el corazón
un vago temblor de estrellas
y todas las rosas son
tan blancas como mi pena.

[...] Today I sense in my heart
a vague tremor of stars
and all roses are
as white as my sorrow.

—  Federico García Lorca "Canción otoñal"

Fall essence

I have not finished yet to talk about the Autumn. I will continue to talk about it at least until the beginning of the winter, if not longer.

The autumn here makes you pull out the coats of the closet and puts your hands in his pockets.

In his pockets you can find chestnuts, pine cones, peels of tangerines ... all things that autumn gives away generously.

In this season, if you listen carefully, you will hear the autumn speaking in the woods.

(But most of the time you can not understand him. He always speaks with dried leaves in his mouth.)

Perfect summer memories of Sicily

1. 
   

To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything

—  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

October gave a party