
de s'effaroucher des formes contraires aux leurs.
Montaigne
Chapitre IX De la vanité

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Après le cherry-brandy
J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends
(1880 - 1918)

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5-year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English".
In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy.
The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.
In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.
Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.
Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.
By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".
During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl.
Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
The Foot Steps Of Water
Life's a pleasant tradition.
Life's wing is as vast as death.
Life's a jump the size of love.
Life's not something,
we put on the mantel of habit
and forget.
It does not matter where I am.
The sky is always mine.
Windows, ideas, air, love,
earth, all mine.
Why does it matter if sometimes,
the mushrooms of nostalgia grow?
Let's take off our clothes.
Water is just a foot away.
Let's have a basket and
fill it up with all the greens
and all the reds.
We are not to comprehend;
the secret of roses, but maybe
swiming in the incantation of roses.
Or may be looking for
the song of truth
between the morning glory,
and the century.
Sohrab Sepehri
Iranian Poet and painter
Stars streaking clover skies
wet flakes in winter white
sulphur gauze sweeps
across cobalt east
river a mirror of crimson
brushed with leaves
roses on Isfahan's old bridge
silk and doves, turquoise
mosque, wild moss
bees swarm around
white orchid moon
where my Grandfather's
pistachio trees bloom
Shireen Bakhtiar

Peace in the nerves of a sick heart
Steady peace ripens its law
Sucked into life
To a nebulous life, to life...
And heavy the chariot, heavy, heavy.
Calm them.
Send wind to them.
The warm wind of delicate branches,
The warm wind of sovereign deserts.
And now...CLOSE
your corollas of anguish.
Henry MICHAUX
Translated by Louise Landes Levi


