Sunday, October 9, 2011
“O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.”

Czeslaw Milosz, from “Encounter,” trans. Milosz and Lillian Vallee (via proustitute)

For a long time this poem was the epigraph for my novel.

P.S. Using words like “epigraph” and “novel” in relation to the thing I’m working on still makes me feel a bit like a pretentious bastard. Whee!
Posted at 6:52 PM 68 notes Reblogged from proustitute Tags: Czeslaw Milosz poetry lit questions hands movement pebbles sorrow wonder

Notes

  1. kaelco reblogged this from magscostello