the crisis

When we see Despots prosper in their weakness,
When we see Falshood triumph in its folly,
When we see Evil, Tyranny, Corruption
Grin, grow and fatten—

When Virtue toileth thro’ a world of sorrow,
When Freedom dwelleth in the deepest dungeon,
When Truth in chains and infamy bewaileth
O’er a world’s ruin—

When Monarchs laugh upon their thrones securely,
Mocking the woes which are to them a treasure,
Hear the deep curse, and quench the Mother’s hunger
In her child’s murder—

Then may we hope the consummating hour
Dreadfully, sweetly, swiftly is arriving
When light from Darkness, peace from desolation
Bursts unresisted.

Then mid the gloom of doubt and fear and anguish
The votaries of virtue may raise their eyes to Heaven
And confident watch till the renovating day star
Gild the horizon.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

the world

I thought that you were an anchor in the drift of the world;
but no: there isn’t an anchor anywhere.
There isn’t an anchor in the drift of the world. Oh no.
I thought you were. Oh no. The drift of the world.

William Bronk

morning song

The morning song is full,
lucid, serene;
it mirrors the emotion of
the world awakening;
it rises from the earth to the heavens
thanking God for the sunrise,
and the revelation of the countryside
when dawn has scarcely stripped its flowers over our heads,
and the brightness, having grown stronger little by little,
offers us the first fruits of morning,
still wet with dew.
On hearing the morning song,
there flutters suddenly within me
the love of this terrestrial realm,
giving new life to hopes and renewing the face of things…

Augusto Frederico Schmidt

golden verses

What! Everything is sentient!

Man, free thinker! do you believe that you alone
think in this world where life bursts forth in everything?
Your freedom has power to use strength you possess,
but the universe is absent from all your councils.

In the beast respect an active soul:
every flower is a soul unfolded to Nature;
in metal sleeps a mystery of love;
,,Everything is sentient!’’ And everything has power over your being.

Fear a glance watching you in the blind wall:
a Word is connected even with matter. …
Do not make it serve some impious purpose!

Often in the dark being dwells a hidden God;
and, like an eye born covered by its lids,
a pure spirit grows beneath the surface of stones!

Gérard de Nerval


Why is a heart
attached to cherry blossoms
still in this body
which, I thought,
had forsaken the world?



Sunset on the sea:
The voices of the ducks
Are faintly white…

Matsuo Bashō

the sun

The sun grows steadily from its watered root
by reason of the ambrosia poured from her moon-bowl by Night
as by a gardener girl desiring a new garden,
in fact, the world.
As it grows from out its trench,
the Eastern Mountain’s ring of peaks,
red as fresh coral, may it bring you joy,
this first sprout of the tree of day.



The world of the waking is one and shared,
but the sleeping turn aside each into his private world.


of the sensual world

Loveliest of what I leave behind is the sunlight,
and loveliest after that the shining stars,
and the moon’s face, but also cucumbers that are ripe, and pears, and apples.