Fleurs du Mal Magazine
Hans Hermans photos: Island (Terschelling IV)
hanshermans©2014
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Dutch Landscapes, Hans Hermans Photos
Sara Teasdale
(1884 – 1933)
The Kiss
I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.
For tho’ I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.
Sara Teasdale poetry
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive S-T, Teasdale, Sara
Hafid Bouazza &
Koos Neuvel
in VPRO BOEKEN
Hafid Bouazza – Meriswin
Een man wordt opgenomen in het ziekenhuis met een delirium: ‘Nu kwam de eerste aanval van portale bloeding, het resultaat van portale hypertensie: een massale bloeding spatte uit zijn ingewanden naar buiten, een ware stroom, een rozen- en viooltjesvloed van Heliogabalus, op heuvelhoogte’.
Koos Neuvel – ‘Alzheimer. Biografie van een ziekte’
Herinneren en de werking van het geheugen lopen overigens als een rode draad door deze aflevering van Boeken want de tweede gast op deze zondagochtend is wetenschapsjournalist Koos Neuvel die een geschiedenis van de ziekte van deze tijd schreef: Alzheimer.
Deze aflevering van VPRO Boeken is zondag 4 mei 2014 te zien om 11.20 uur op Nederland 1
# meer info VPRO BOEKEN website
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: - Book News, Art & Literature News
Emma Lazarus
(1849 – 1887)
Longing
Look westward o’er the steaming rain-washed slopes,
Now satisfied with sunshine, and behold
Those lustrous clouds, as glorious as our hopes,
Softened with feathery fleece of downy gold,
In all fantastic, huddled shapes uprolled,
Floating like dreams, and melting silently,
In the blue upper regions of pure sky.
The eye is filled with beauty, and the heart
Rejoiced with sense of life and peace renewed;
And yet at such an hour as this, upstart
Vague myriad longing, restless, unsubdued,
And causeless tears from melancholy mood,
Strange discontent with earth’s and nature’s best,
Desires and yearnings that may find no rest.
Emma Lazarus poetry
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive K-L, Lazarus, Emma
The Sorrows of Young Werther (32) by J.W. von Goethe ♦ AUGUST 30. ♦ Unhappy being that I am! Why do I thus deceive myself? What is to come of all this wild, aimless, endless passion? I cannot pray except to her.
My imagination sees nothing but her: all surrounding objects are of no account, except as they relate to her. In this dreamy state I enjoy many happy hours, till at length I feel compelled to tear myself away from her. Ah, Wilhelm, to what does not my heart often compel me! When I have spent several hours in her company, till I feel completely absorbed by her figure, her grace, the divine expression of her thoughts, my mind becomes gradually excited to the highest excess, my sight grows dim, my hearing confused, my breathing oppressed as if by the hand of a murderer, and my beating heart seeks to obtain relief for my aching senses. I am sometimes unconscious whether I really exist. If in such moments I find no sympathy, and Charlotte does not allow me to enjoy the melancholy consolation of bathing her hand with my tears, I feel compelled to tear myself from her, when I either wander through the country, climb some precipitous cliff, or force a path through the trackless thicket, where I am lacerated and torn by thorns and briers; and thence I find relief. Sometimes I lie stretched on the ground, overcome with 
fatigue and dying with thirst; sometimes, late in the night, when the moon shines above me, I recline against an aged tree in some sequestered forest, to rest my weary limbs, when, exhausted and worn, I sleep till break of day. O Wilhelm! the hermit’s cell, his sackcloth, and girdle of thorns would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I suffer. Adieu! I see no end to this wretchedness except the grave.
♦ SEPTEMBER 3. ♦ I must away. Thank you, Wilhelm, for determining my wavering purpose. For a whole fortnight I have thought of leaving her. I must away. She has returned to town, and is at the house of a friend. And then, Albert–yes, I must go.
The Sorrows of Young Werther (Die Leiden des jungen Werther) by J.W. von Goethe. Translated by R.D. Boylan
To be continued
fleursdumal.nl magazine for art & literature
More in: -Die Leiden des jungen Werther, Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von
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