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Monday, April 29, 2013

This Bird Has Flown

J'ay perdu ma tourterelle.
Est-ce point elle que j'oy?
Je veux aller apr├Ęs elle.
Jean Passerat, 1606



I have lost my soul's delight,
Sweet songbird, dark nightingale:
I would follow her in flight.

She has flown into the night.
Still I search, to no avail.
I have lost my soul's delight.

O true beauty benedight!
Without her, my strength grows frail.
I would follow her in flight.

Now I see the cold sad sight
Of stars above me, and I wail:
I have lost my soul's delight.

Sleepless till the dawn's faint light
Slowly turns the sky quite pale,
I would follow her in flight.

Heaven's splendour, once so bright,
Now appears wretched and stale.
I have lost my soul's delight;
I would follow her in flight.

A Young Woman of Boston

Elegant as pi to the hundredth decimal, beautiful as a quadratic equation, close as Cambodia, distant as winter, precise and mathematica...