blog de maraki

all things can tempt me from the craft of verse;
One time it was a woman's face, or worse--
the seeming needs of my fool--driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
than this accustomed toil; When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
that one believed he had sword upstairs;
Yet would by now, could I have my wish,
Cilder and dumber and deafer than a fish,

Tonight La lune est ronde sur la mer de la Crète.

Je dois signer la semaine prochaine.... c'est dingue mais les miracles parfois, il faut en croire..