Blwyddyn Newydd Dda

A Blessed and Good New Year to you all.

Fulfill the alchemy of the word … as did Rimbaud

It is recovered.
What? – Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.

O my eternal soul,
Hold fast to desire
In spite of the night
And the day on fire.

You must set yourself free
From the striving of Man
And the applause of the World
You must fly as you can…

– No hope forever
No orietur.
Science and patience,
The torment is sure.

The fire within you,
Soft silken embers,
Is our whole duty
But no one remembers.

It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.

Firerworks? Yawn …

“With thunder and heavenly fireworks must one speak to indolent and somnolent senses. But beauty’s voice speaketh gently: it appealeth only to the most awakened souls …”

― Friedrich Nietzsche in Thus Spoke Xarathustra

“Insanity,” he writes in Beyond Good and Evil, “in individuals is something rare — but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.” 

Give me the words of a ‘philosopher of dynamite’ anytime!

‘Ask ye what ghosts I dream upon?’

Wrote Ezra Pound in his 1908 “Villonaud for this Yule”

Towards the Noel that morte saison
(Christ make the shepherds’ homage dear!)
Then when the grey wolves everychone
Drink of the winds their chill small-beer
And lap o’ the snows food’s gueredon
Then makyth my heart his yule-tide cheer
(Skoal! with the dregs if the clear be gone!)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Ask ye what ghosts I dream upon?
(What of the magians’ scented gear?)
The ghosts of dead loves everyone
That make the stark winds reek with fear
Lest love return with the foison sun
And slay the memories that me cheer
(Such as I drink to mine fashion)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Where are the joys my heart had won?
(Saturn and Mars to Zeus drawn near!)
Where are the lips mine lay upon,
Aye! where are the glances feat and clear
That bade my heart his valour don?
I skoal to the eyes as grey-blown mere
(Who knows whose was that paragon?)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Prince: ask me not what I have done
Nor what God hath that can me cheer
But ye ask first where the winds are gone
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

WHAT GHOSTS DO YOU DREAM UPON? WILL SOME FOLLOW YOU TO 2020?

Ezra Pound