Poetry weekend
I’ll be reading Eliot in various translations and a new Anthology of Erotic Poetry. I’m off to a trip to the bookshop for some more ideas. Promise to self: I will be good. And I’ll be working hard all next week beginning on Monday!
Home
Casual Friday
5 fantastic places to take your book and read, or take your laptop and work, or take your e-reader for a reading marathon, or take your margarita and stay there, or take your lover and disappear!
Beetroot mix
Power drink of the day for many translation pages ahead…My mom’s favorite recipe: apple – carrot- beetroot! a fantastic mix!
read books grow branches
Read books, grow branches, grow roots, grow leaves, bask in the sun, enjoy your home, relax, fall in love, mend your heart, find yourself, help friends, love family, love life.
Συ! Υποκριτή αναγνώστη – όμοιέ μου – αδερφέ μου!
Ο Απρίλης είναι ο μήνας ο σκληρός, γεννώντας Μες απ’ την πεθαμένη γη τις πασχαλιές, σμίγοντας Θύμηση κι επιθυμία, ταράζοντας Με τη βροχή της άνοιξης ρίζες οκνές. Ο χειμώνας μας ζέσταινε, σκεπάζοντας Τη γη με το χιόνι της λησμονιάς, θρέφοντας Λίγη ζωή μ’ απόξερους βολβούς. Το καλοκαίρι μας ξάφνισε καθώς ήρθε πάνω απ’ το Σταρνμπέργκερζε…
You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!
APRIL is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,…
Venom – Secrets of the Eternal Rose
I am so excited for my new translation project!!! Masks, dark secrets, a floating mysterious city… the hidden secrets of Venice high society in this enchanting new series “Secrets of the Eternal Rose”. Soon from Platypus Publications Love, lust, murder, mayhem and high society converge in one thrilling debut Cassandra Caravello has everything…
2013 World Poetry Day + Day against Racism
“Hope” is the thing with feathers “Hope” is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm— I’ve heard it in the…
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