Silentium

Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word.

How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.

Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard…
take in their song and speak no word.

By Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

Translated by Vladimir Nabokov

"Tout est usé aujourd'hui, meme le malheur."


Everything is worn out today, even unhappiness.

Salar de Uyuni

The world's largest salt water flat. When it rains, it becomes the world's largest mirror. Brreathtaking.. also yes.. I found out about this from 9gag.

A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. 

বনলতা সেন : My translation

For a thousand years, I have wandered, through the pathways of the world,

From the seas of Singhal to the oceans of Malay, in the darkness of the night

I've travelled far and wide: the dusty lands of Ashoka's Bimbisar

I was there: in the distant darkness, a desolate town

A weary soul, and all around me, the ocean vast and frothy,

She brought me some moments of tranquillity - Banalata Sen, from Natore.

Her hair as dark as the ancient nights

Her features as intricate as the sculptings of Sravasti; and in the seas far away

Like the the shipwrecked sailor who has lost his way

When finds a cinnamon island coated with lush green grass

That is how my eyes perceived her in the darkness; 'Where were you for so long,'

She asked, looking up; Banalata Sen from Natore, with eyes like the home of a bird

As the day comes to a close, and dusk lingers in with the gentle sounds of the dew

And the eagle retires, wiping off its wings the smell of sunshine

When the earth turns off its coloured beams and transcribes its stories

On manuscripts with nothing but the twinkling lights of fireflies

When the birds have flown back home, and the rivers have repaid long forgotten debts;
All that remains, before me, is darkness, and her, Banalata Sen.

You only want three wishes

One to fly the heavens

One to swim like fishes

You never want bitter

And all delicious

And a clean conscience 

And all it's blisses

You want one true lover with a thousand kisses

You want soft and gentle and never vicious

And then one you're saving for a rainy day 

If your lover ever takes his love away. 

Breathe. It's magical.

''We didn't need a story, we didn't need a real world
We just had to keep walking
And we became the stories, we became the places
We were the lights, the deserts, the faraway worlds
We were you before you even existed'' 

Shortest Story Ever Told

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

~Ernest Miller Hemingway.