. . . and don't blame the vulture. |
. . . and don't blame the vulture. |
. . . |
Friedrich Hölderlin (20 March 1770 – 7 June 1843)
Across the street from Seanhenge, a Christmas elf named Wolfram moved in at the beginning of December.
He has not yet been seen, but he writes regularly, and often traces of his highly varied nocturnal activities are unmistakable. |
The other day he was told in a letter that the writer's grandfather had cooked him a portion of rice, and ... |
. . . that she, the letter writer, hoped Wolfram would relish it. |
And yes, it did taste, Wolfram wrote, but asked for indulgence that unfortunately he did not quite manage to entirely eat the huge portion. |
Clicking the label Dafydd ap Gwilym soon you will agree with me: There's no bard like him. |
The most beautiful love poems |