Dying, the seed will discover the self it finds in the losing.
That is, oh, Nature, thy law! That is thy lesson, oh, Man!
Hearing dark music, the poet knoweth no rest; he abideth—
Purer and purer the sound, clearer the fore-uttered word.
Vyacheslav Ivanov (1866 - 1949)
Translated by Babette Deutsch and Avrahm Yarmolinsky
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.