kintsugi heart inside. handle with care.
Einmal ist keinmal - What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond - e e cummings
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
The only relationship that can make both partners happy is one in which sentimentality has no place and neither partner makes any claim on the life and freedom of the other.
kur ti flet
e kur hesht
heshtore te madhe shtypit
heshtore te vogel shtypit
Se ka heshtje te pergjithshme
e te perveçme, heshtje qe fillon me te madhe
heshtje qytetesh, lulesh, kafshesh
Ka heshtje sasie
Ti hesht ne veten e pare
ne veten e dyte
e nja kater veta tjera
ti hesht njejes
Permbi za qe leshon bilbili
heshtja jote m’shungullon
Duhet te kete nji fakultet
qe studion Heshtjen Shqipe
gramatiken e heshtjes
sintaksen e saj
se mungesa e kesaj shkolle
krijon padituni moj zemer
e pastaj thone se u ba kohe e gjate
qe nuk flasim bashke
Shinji Moon - “here’s what our parents never taught us”
here’s what our parents never taught us:
you will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.
you will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.
a woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.
you will not tell anyone that you liked it.
it is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.
you can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.
all you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
all you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.
you will lie to everyone you love.
they will love you anyways.
one day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.
don’t be afraid.
your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.
you are a hurricane-prone area.
the glass will break through often.
but it’s okay. i promise.
a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.