The hyacinth girl -neither living, nor dead

Being the immediate continuation of “Still life and still death” -with a small gap of four verses… – “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.” —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my… Continue reading The hyacinth girl -neither living, nor dead

Still life and still death

Illustrating old dead roots into the sand – young still flesh; branches and leaves – oddly lightened [Dedicated to the bewitching memory of my sister, who was fond of T. S. Eliot -and entirely inspired by her physical absence nowadays] – What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish?… Continue reading Still life and still death

After her funeral, the darkness of God

Originally posted on INVISIBLE FORMS:
Thomas S. Eliot in Catalan (I) – Translated by Ari Fontrodona ? Fifty days, today, after losing her I keep on finding portions of her favourite poems translated to Catalan in her notebooks and on loose sheets of paper inside the books, or in archives in her computer. And as…

Every Day of Remembrance – Speaking with the dead

Once, I lost a person very close to me; so close, that she was part of me: my best friend and my mate and lover. It happened thirteen years ago (but it could have been yesterday; or even today, because I’m still losing her every day of my life), and she is not in any… Continue reading Every Day of Remembrance – Speaking with the dead