Osjan — taka piękna mistyfikacja
Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn & every Night Some are Born to sweet delight, Some are born to Endless Night. This is Blake’s most famous verse. It’s impossible to translate it into Polish without losing the rhythm, rhyme and childlike brevity. Dizzy tried many times, and it was like solving a charade.
Olga Tokarczuk • Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead: A Novel
No song is an island
somuchinbetween.substack.com
one must look beyond Alaska, to the bald-rock canyons of southern Utah. There, in 1934, a peculiar twenty-year-old boy walked into the desert and never came out. His name was Everett Ruess.
Jon Krakauer • Into the Wild
A myth where some king has nothing left to do.
His kindom falls apart, he loses everything,
and in the desolate nothing,
he sits down to rest on a pile of hay,
and begins to sing to keep himself company.
In time, a princess arrives,
and life begins to re-assemble,
to self-assemble.
His kindom falls apart, he loses everything,
and in the desolate nothing,
he sits down to rest on a pile of hay,
and begins to sing to keep himself company.
In time, a princess arrives,
and life begins to re-assemble,
to self-assemble.