Dreaming

Full Moon, Original Art by ©Dorina Costras - All rights reserved by the artist.

one dream, one truth
breaking this night in pieces
only you and me
and the moon
wearing a silver smile

Per Amica Silentia Lunae, Anima Mundi ch. 34, By William Butler Yeats

"...When I remember that Shelley calls our minds “mirrors of the fire for which all thirst,” I cannot but ask the question all have asked, “What or who has cracked the mirror?” I begin to study the only self that I can know, myself, and to wind the thread upon the perne again.

At certain moments, always unforeseen, I become happy, most commonly when at hazard I have opened some book of verse. Sometimes it is my own verse when, instead of discovering new technical flaws, I read with all the excitement of the first writing. Perhaps I am sitting in some crowded restaurant, the open book beside me, or closed, my excitement having over-brimmed the page. I look at the strangers near as if I had known them all my life, and it seems strange that I cannot speak to them: everything fills me with affection, I have no longer any fears or any needs; I do not even remember that this happy mood must come to an end. It seems as if the vehicle had suddenly grown pure and far extended and so luminous that one half imagines that the images from Anima Mundi, embodied there and drunk with that sweetness, would, as some country drunkard who had thrown a wisp into his own thatch, burn up time..."

Night child

 Moonlight Night - Christian Schloe

Tearing the veil of the night

i raise my hands to the stars

worshiping Love

in the only way i know

weaving shadows into starlight

Until the morning finds my dreams softly sleeping

in another life...

In my dream

John William Waterhouse, The Naiad, 1893

 

 

In my dream

I paint the night with your smile

and the shy stars in your eyes

Oh how i wish i could steal

the purple kiss 

that softly sleeps

on your lips

 - floating in silence...

 

 

Nocturne

"...Tonight the light at my feet

 flows on the grass in liquid silver waves

soft mists and crawling fog

     and the sea somewhere in the distance

 I count a few stars trapped between my fingers

as the moon hides wrapped inside a veil of clouds

wondering 

    It is not clear to me, the colored glass sorrow

 that  drips shaped in  prisms... 

                 But...
Here under this alien sky 
away from everything that I am,
into this night, I only want to dream of roses

Seagulls cry flying by. 
I can hear the trees whispering.
I can almost hear the distant voices of dead feelings 
or withering memories.
"This", i whisper to myself, "is a moment of truth".

All thoughts trapped into this deafening silence

 slowly spin around endlessly 
   like an ancient nebula 
    

Am I the universe looking at itself?

Do I  exist only inside the eyes of those who love me?...

My soul curls  naked under the old oak tree outside the window

hidden in a dream, she sleeps tired

              waiting for the rain

                 to gently wash away the moon dust..." 

Euphoria

Cherry Blossom in the Night, by Katsushika Oui

deliciously sweet
the frenzy of love into our veins
a taste of spring
under the velvet cherry trees
the world fades away in flowing petals

Un soir de Mai - A May evening, by Charles Dovalle (1807-1829) excerpt

Lovers in the Grass, Alois Kalvoda (1875-1934)

"...Du jour qui meurt la lumière abaissée
Joue entre les rameaux,
Dore les troncs, et serpente, brisée,
Sur l'herbe, en longs réseaux...

Silence! amants,silence !...
Le vent du soir balance
Le chèvrefeuille en fleur :
Le bois est déjà sombre...
Ne confiez qu'à l'ombre
Vos soupirs de bonheur!..."

"...Of the dying day the falling light

plays between the branches

paints with gold the tree trunks, and crawls, broken

on the grass, in long nets

Silence! Lovers, silence! 

The evening breeze gently plays

with the blossomed honeysuckle

The forest already is dark

Confide only in the shades

your happy sighs!..." 

Peace of the woods - Edvard Grieg

Song to the Moon - Antonin Dvořák

Silver moon upon the deep dark sky,
Through the vast night pierce your rays.
This sleeping world you wander by,
Smiling on man's homes and ways.
Oh moon ere past you glide, tell me,
Tell me, oh where does my loved one bide?
Oh moon ere past you glide, tell me
Tell me, oh where does my loved one bide?
Tell him, oh tell him, my silver moon,
Mine are the arms that shall hold him,
That between waking and sleeping he may
Think of the love that enfolds him,
May between waking and sleeping
Think of the love that enfolds him.
Light his path far away, light his path,
Tell him, oh tell him who does for him stay!
Human soul, should it dream of me, Let my memory wakened be.
Moon, moon, oh do not wane, do not wane,
Moon, oh moon, do not wane....

Reverie, Claude Debussy

A quiet stream in winter

I love you

peacefully like a quiet stream

in winter

when everything is frozen

a blossom sleeps waiting for spring

A cup for a winter's night

Heart of Light, ©YiotaKarioti2015

Brew me a cup for a winter's night.

For the wind howls loud and the furies fight;

Spice it with love and stir it with care,

And I'll toast our bright eyes,

my sweetheart fair.

~ Minna Thomas Antrim.

"If love's a sweet passion" - Henry Purcell (1659-1695) The Fairy Queen

If Love's a Sweet Passion, why does it torment?

If a Bitter, oh tell me whence comes my content?

Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain,

Or grieve at my Fate, when I know 'tis in vain?

Yet so pleasing the Pain, so soft is the Dart,

That at once it both wounds me, and tickles my Heart.

I press her Hand gently, look Languishing down,

And by Passionate Silence I make my Love known.

But oh! I'm Blest when so kind she does prove,

By some willing mistake to discover her Love.

When in striving to hide, she reveals all her Flame,

And our Eyes tell each other, what neither dares Name.

Ye Gentle Spirits of the Air, appear;

Prepare, and joyn your tender Voices here.

Cath, and repeat the Trembling Sounds anew,

Soft as her Sighs and sweet as pearly dew,

Run new Division, and such Measures keep,

As when you lull the God of Love asleep. 

And now in Autumn as I wait

Lionello Balestrieri, The Kiss

And now, in Autumn, as I wait

for winter's hard and long cold days

my mind with your reflection plays

this evening late

The room in shadows, walls in grey

All colours blend in one blur knot

A vision painted with your thought,

flies by, astray

Some call it longing, or desire,

a madness send from gods above 

asking my heart, I name it love

a shiny fire

Thin purple leaves caress the moon

I smile to chase the clouds away

dreaming you will  beside me lay

loving me soon

Debussy - Jardins Sous la Pluie, Gardens under the rain

Butterflies

Cymon and Iphigenia. Frederic Lord Leighton, 1884. The Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney 


Fluttering kisses

butterflies caught in the net of love

 - I dream of your  lips

To Autumn - John Keats

Thomas Moran (1837 – 1926), Cresheim Glen Wissahickon Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Autumn

The Beauty of Autumn - a poem by Katherine M. Nuñez

Autumn Leaves - Diana Krall