Saturday, 20 February 2010

A slow note on sadness on a rainy day


WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow —
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me —
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well: —
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met —
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? —
With silence and tears.

George Gordon Byron

Been having so unbearably little time to write about film, but have spent days and days thinking about it. Making my first step into the cinematic playground these days, but I must admit I am missing tremendously the time to indulge myself with some of others’ sand castles and fortresses of visual beauty. But time for everything will come, I know.

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