Note No. 37. Poetry and Boredom
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Confusion of seasons
snowflakes fall
on a sunny hay
and a red leaf
is playing with a marron*
they will fall in a sea
of waves of green
together
*Fr. Chestnut.
Note nr 37
16th August 1819
Such a poem has been sent to me, as I wrote about
it in the previous note. I really like it. This poetry is… totally different.
Concept is also intriguing… Seasons play together. There are no borders for nature.
I am glad very much, in short! It is always genuinely
nice to have a new friend, in addition a modern artist!
All in all, I am not surprised that she lives
here in mountains… I think I start to understand it all… Loneliness… And stuff…
And William is gone in this huge manor! Normally
I am going around all day calling him, and I cannot find him!
William! Do not hide from me! I know you are
somewhere here, my dear lover!
So many thoughts today… So many short thoughts today…
Something is coming…. Oh, it is coming…
Am I repeating things? I feel like everyday my
thoughts are going in the most perfect geometrical figure what is a circle… I
think I constantly darken paper with ink by words which are like other… And it
is like this every day… I think I start to feel bored here…
William, where are you?!
I am going to continue looking for him… Until
tomorrow!
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