Every means of communication what is call languages are mysteries
I am a foreigner in an insulated capsule
I taste. I explore. I take samples to try and break loneliness
I'm learning. Maybe, one day, I will be truely able to write and talk.

samedi 29 novembre 2014

Limerick by William Cosmo Monkhouse (1840-1901)

There was a young lady from Niger,
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger;
They came back from the ride
With the lady inside,
And the smile on the face of the tiger.
William Cosmo Monkhouse (1840-1901)

mardi 18 novembre 2014

Daybreak in Alabama by Langston Hughes

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama. 

(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967 / Missouri)