April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers....
And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in winter.
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers....
And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in winter.
-from The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot
~Mustafa
(No, this is not describing a state of mind, but a state of weather. The picture kind of evoked it. the sandstorm in Cairo today was bad enough to shut down the airport.)
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