He had the finest ear, perhaps, of any English poet; he was also undoubtedly the stupidest; there was little about melancholia he didn’t know; there was little else that he did — Auden on Tennyson
The stuff on this blog is poetry. It's not sudoku. You don't have to work anything out or look for any meaning. It's just images and sonics and poetry that is designed to be untranslatable. If you try to translate it it won't work. Just let it remain as poetry and it might just...
No comments:
Post a Comment