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H.N. Swanson

There was shadow-talk among the flowers; the night breeze came up the gravel path and moved among them. Litle jets of perfume rose and fell from the jasmine as silently as did the silver thread of water in the fountain. The grass was marbled with colored lights from the dance. Gay voices fluttered out like moths to the darkest corners of the garden. There was a very discreet moon. Somewhere, not so far away, trees stirred in each other’s arms with little drowsy murmurs.
What was her face like? It was, I am certain, the sum of every delight--even though the eyes, the hair, the mouth, all elude me. But do the features of first loves ever come clear?
I am not an old man, but I have said goodbye to enough of young happiness to be jealous of what remains. You say I am sentimental. You are too, if you are honest with yourself.
No deep satisfaction can last. The impermanence of love, the sadness of it, is its charm. The emotion you now experience is the sweetest--it will never come again. There are all kinds of love, but this same love will never greet you twice.
Happiness is a cup diluted for the old, full and strong for the young. You cannot ask the moon to stand still. Keep close to you what you have known. Put in your heart what you live in your garden tonight--you are going to need it.
Tomorrow I may be in love again . . . I may think nothing like it could ever have happened before. But the thoughts of another garden will sting my eyes. It will be sweet then to know there is real warmth in dreams.



( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 29th, 2005 11:10 pm (UTC)
Gee, I'm caught out being the ignorant Brit two posts in a row :) Whoever H.N. Swanson might be, it certainly is beautiful writing!
Nov. 30th, 2005 07:22 am (UTC)
That's beautiful.

It's good to see you posting again. (I used to be whitetara.)
Nov. 30th, 2005 12:52 pm (UTC)
ah, there you are! i need to add the new you :)
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )


don't fear death
melissa muses (or maia, you choose)


wandering does not make you a "gypsy."
why would you call yourself
after those who have no home?
long skirts and hoop earrings
do not make you a "gypsy."
why do you call yourself after
those who have no clothes?

"gypsy" is pejorative. please don't perpetuate the stereotype. educate yourself on what it really means to be a "gypsy" in this world.

Who are the Roma?

Decade of Roma Inclusion

Dženo Association

European Roma Rights Centre

Roma Balkans

Roma National Congress

Romani World



Rroma Media Network

Soros Roma Initiatives

Studii Romani

The European Union and Roma

The Patrin Webjournal: Romani Culture and History

Voice of Roma
World Bank Roma Initiatives

Have a Happy Day! :)

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