Date : 4/10/2019 3:00:21 AM
From : "Itay Frost"
Subject : גבריאלה ברביעי
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תוצאת תמונה עבור ‪gabriela mistral‬‏

What the soul is to the body, so is the artist to his people

Gabriela Mistral

 

The poet is an untier of knots, and love without words is a knot, and it drowns.

Gabriela Mistral

 

Already we mistrust wakefulness; if we are dreaming, then let us dream, until our dream convinces us.

Gabriela Mistral

 

The gods give, like twin flowers, power and ruin, memory and oblivion.

Gabriela Mistral

 

Speech is our second possession, after the soul-and perhaps we have no other possession in this world

Gabriela Mistral

 

Writing tends to cheer me; it always soothes my spirit and blesses me with the gift of an innocent, tender, childlike day. It is the sensation of having spent a few hours in my homeland, with my customs, free whims, my total freedom.

Gabriela Mistral

 

I write poetry because I can’t disobey the impulse; it would be like blocking a spring that surges up in my throat. For a long time I’ve been the servant of the song that comes, that appears and can’t be buried away. How to seal myself up now?…It no longer matters to me who receives what I submit. What I carry out is, in that respect, greater and deeper than I, I am merely the channel.

Gabriela Mistral

 

It would have pleased the cosmopolitan spirit of Alfred Nobel to extend the scope of his protectorate of civilization by including within its radius the southern hemisphere of the American continent.

Gabriela Mistral

 

The night itself is riddled with her, wide with her, and alive with her.

Gabriela Mistral

 

I could have not returned, and I've returned.

Gabriela Mistral

 

And she grasps it because it's her fate.

Gabriela Mistral

 

What was it that was never finished, neither changed nor fulfilled?

I am Cassandra—she who, without asking,

understood it all and still came to her fate,

I, Cassandra, full of visions,

who sees her own death without turning away,

and hears in the night the day that follows.

Gabriela Mistral

 

The bronze of the door is worthless, alas,

to keep me from seeing her who comes

by the walks of myrtles to search me out

drunk with hatred and crazed by fate.

Gabriela Mistral

 

 

 

איתי פרוסט

 

חישבו על איכות הסביבה בטרם תדפיסו מייל זה  P