T. S. Eliot — Portrait Of A Lady

Portugese

ne·fe·li·ba·ta

/nefilēbätä/ 

noun a cloud walker; an individual who lives in the “clouds” of her own imagination or dreams. 

Seraphine Saintclair, “The Winglessness”

The many wrongly addressed letters. Then the unsent ones. Followed by the unwritten ones. And at last — again — the poem: the breathed breve... a few syllables too long. — (Wave shorts. Wave troughs. No crests at all.)

– Paul Celan, trans. Pierre Joris

ancient greek word of the night: νυκτόμαντις (nyktomantis), one who prophesies by night

“Everybody knows that really intimate conversation can only take place between two or three. Even if there are only six or seven present, collective language begins to dominate.”

— Simone Weil, Waiting on God

Mahmoud Darwish, tr. by Sinan Antoon, from “In The Presence of Absence,”

“Incense, with its sweetsmelling perfume and high-ascending smoke, can be compared to a sincere, earnest prayer which, enkindled by the fire of concentration, rises up as a pleasant offering.”

—

Anna Riva;

Magic With Incense and Powders: 850 Rituals and Uses With Chants and Prayers

(via liminalblessings)

May Sarton, from Recovering: A Journal

Adonis, from Selected Poems; “This Is My Name” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)