A hundred love songs (Darwish)
Sing for me, she said, a hundred of your love songs
and you will enter my life! So he sang ninety-
nine songs about love, then killed himself
Mahmoud Darwish, from "Maybe, Because Winter Is Late"
Labels: poetry
The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.
—Thomas Jefferson
—Thomas Jefferson
Sunday, January 24, 2016
