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con-alas-de-angeles · 17 days

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Vasko Popa, ‘Far Within Us’, Collected Poems, 1943-1976 (trans. Anne Pennington)

#vasko popa #moonlight #typography #serbian lit

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con-alas-de-angeles · 22 days

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“She searched for love, not chaotically, like thousands of other girls her age, but by relying on her powerful instincts. She believed that her one and only love would not pass her by unnoticed but would declare loud and clear: “Here I am. It’s me.””

— Dmitry Lipskerov (born 1964), from “Oedipus Complex”, translated from the Russian by Anna Seluyanova and Marcia Karp in: “Life Stories. Original works by Russian writers” “ Искала любовь, но не оголтело, как тысячи ее сверстниц, полагаясь на свои могучие инстинкты, веря, что та единственная, неповторимая не пройдет стороной, незамеченная, а во всеуслышание заявит; вот она я! пришла ! “

#Dmitry Lipskerov #literature #Russian literature #Russian writer #Oedipus Complex #Дмитрий Липскеров #русская литература

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con-alas-de-angeles · 22 days

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by day, i write stories, study tales of legends that have slipped into mist but when the sun sets and the moon peaks out in the darkness, i change... the legends i study become reality, and my stories are told with blood instead of ink. blood of the victims whom i must conquer in order to survive

- lune

#vampire aesthetic #vampirism #vampire #gothic #dark poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr

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con-alas-de-angeles · 23 days

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I will tell you the dreams of my life

On this deepest of blue nights.

In your hands my soul will tremble,

On your shoulders my cross will rest.

The summits of life are lonely,

So lonely and so cold! I locked

My yearnings inside, and all reside

In the ivory tower I raised.

Today I will reveal a great mystery;

Your soul has the power to penetrate me.

In silence are vertigos of the abyss:

I hesitate, I am sustained in you.

I die of dreams; I will drink truth,

Pure and cool, from your springs.

I know in the well of your breast

Is a fountain that vanquishes my thirst.

And I know that in our lives, this

Is the inexpressible miracle of reflection…

In the silence, my soul arrives at yours

As to a magnificent mirror.

Imagine the love I dreamed

In the glacial tomb of silence!

Larger than life, larger than dream,

A love imprisoned beneath an azure without end.

Imagine my love, love which desires

Impossible life, superhuman life,

You who know how it burdens and consumes,

Dreams of Olympus bound by human flesh.

And when met with a soul which found

A bit of azure to bathe its wings,

Like a great, golden sun, or a shore

Made of light, your soul opened:

Imagine! To embrace the Impossible!

Radiant! The lived illusion!

Blessed be God, the sun, the flower, the air,

And all of life, because you are life!

If I bought this happiness with my anguish,

Bless the weeping that stains my eyes!

All the ulcers of the past laugh

At the sun rising from red lips!

Ah you will know, My Love,

We will travel far across the flowery night;

There what is human frightens, there you can hear it,

See it, feel it, life without end.

We go further into night, we go

Where in me not an echo reverberates,

Like a nocturnal flower in the shade,

I will open sweetly for you.

-Delmira Agustini, Intimate

(Taken by me)

#my photography #taken by me #eros #psyche #Cupid #sculpture #delmira agustini #graveyard #cemetery photography #taphophile

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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Skeleton ~ Memento Mori

Etching produced as a memento mori which is a Medieval Latin Christian Theory and practice of rembering your own mortality and the inevitably of death.

"Remember Man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return."

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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“There was a fabric of knowing, he claimed, beyond vision, beyond hearing. Just as dogs practise an apparently subsonic intelligence, or birds know by inner geometry their flight paths and havens, so there are latent forms of life everywhere and secret understandings.”

—

Gail Jones, from ‘Dreams of Speaking’

(via derangedrhythms)

#Gail jones #secret #understanding

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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Because she is light of innocence,

because white things illuminate her mysterious light,

things taking on white,

And even the blackest souls become uncertainly bright.

Delmira Agustini, In the Light of the Moon

#delmira agustini

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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“She would sit among her flowers by the hour, and she seemed to be more with ghosts than with them all, dreaming of the past.”

Virginia Woolf, The Complete Works: Mrs Dalloway, c. 1925

(Taken by me)

#my photography #taphophile #taken by me #cemetery #cemetery photography #virginia woolf #sunset #flowers

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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Listen: this world is the lunatic's sphere, Don't always agree it's real, Even with my feet upon it And the postman knowing my door My address is somewhere else.

Hafiz, The Gift

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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Hermann Hesse, Demian (1919)

#hermann hesse #typography #dream

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con-alas-de-angeles · 1 month

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Do not tell everyone your story. You will only end up feeling more rejected. People cannot give you what you long for in your heart. The more you expect from people’s response to your experience of abandonment, the more you will feel exposed to ridicule. You have to close yourself to the outside world so you can enter your own heart and the heart of God through your pain. God will send to you the people with whom you can share your anguish, who can lead you closer to the true source of love.

Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love

#henri jm nouwen #God

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con-alas-de-angeles · 2 months

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