A Random Thought

I must be feeling a bit misanthropic, therefore, I need a little poetry.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven - by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.


And because it will be a full moon tonight...

To the Moon- by Rainer Maria Rilke

Moon, svelte person,
who makes you pregnant
every month?
And who makes you always
engrossed in your pregnancy
--almost terrestrially?

You attract the blood
of our pubescent virgins.
But what do you mother
twelve times a year?

Shall we raise your light
offspring in ourselves?
Inside me I found a soft
candle decorated with gilt
which I think suits your taste.