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lunes, 1 de abril de 2013


On  the other side is Freedom.
Here, the calm,
the sweet solitude of whom expected,
like a broken flower,
resigned to die.
Behind the glass, life.
On this side, death
plunges his wounded stem
into the silent water
of dreams
that should never be.

Blanca Langa

lunes, 25 de marzo de 2013

I WANT TO DIE WHILE YOU LOVE ME, a poem by Georgia Johnson (1886-1966)

 I want to die while you love me,
While yet you hold  me fair,    
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me,
And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent,
To warm me when I´m dead.

I want to die while you love me,
Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give!

I want to die while you love me
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day
Grow dim or cease to be.

domingo, 3 de febrero de 2013


PHOTO by Blanca Langa

Now, when I know  I will die alone,
That you won´t hold  me when I die.
That nobody´s going to hold my hands
                                            this afternoon
-because it will be a December afternoon
when I decide to go-, don´t call me.

I forgive you everything.
There´s nothing more to talk.
I continue dying.
I´ll still probably dreaming.