gri_2003_m_46_b02_f08_016
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.094
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.043
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Transcribers
- 65463847 - casterapple
- 65585435 - maewe
- WINNER - 65637607 - not-logged-in-371a000281f03fd79d85
- 65639979 - aceto
- 65656250 - jaksen
- 65760803 - Astrolunos
- 65820778 - ayasabry
65463847 - casterapple
BlackheathSunday
Dearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems
for you: First, The Moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satelite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror.
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bone collector, I,
Yet centred on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.
65585435 - maewe
BlackheathSunday
Dearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems for you: First, The Moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monumento.
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satelite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror:
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophilias neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bole collector, I,
Yet centred on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The Pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.
WINNER - 65637607 - not-logged-in-371a000281f03fd79d85
Blackheath SundayDearest Sylvia
I think I shall start this letter with two poems
for you: First, The moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satelite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror,.
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bonecollector, I,
Yet centered on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.
65639979 - aceto
Blackheath SundayDearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems
for you: First, The Moon.
One-sided, double meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satelite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror.
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a Song:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bone collector, I,
Yet centered on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
_______
Oh and I have a poem I don't think I sent you.
65656250 - jaksen
Blackheath SundayDearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems for you: First, the Moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Foretells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satellite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror:
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull or bone collector, I,
Yet centered on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
Or head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.
65760803 - Astrolunos
BlackheathSunday
Dearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems for you: First, The Moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satellite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror.
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bone collector, I,
Yet centered on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.
65820778 - ayasabry
Blackheath SundayDearest Sylvia,
I think I shall start this letter with two poems
for you: First, The Moon.
One-sided, double-meaning moon,
Constant, simplified by cloud,
Glass of the sun, white monument,
Fortells simplicity or love
To poet or the under-twelve,
Inflames with cold or jumps spreadeagled
A silver phoenix from the dark
Bower of ashes in the garden:
The satellite is ambivalent,
Like a lake or like a mirror.
Does it show the last Narcissus
Or lovers' curiosity?
Luna duality is ours:
Constant, paradoxical.
And a SONG:
No necrophiliac neophyte,
Flagellant or snake-charmer,
No skull and bone collector, I,
Yet centred on the wit of death:
No motto on the portland urn,
Beneath the sinister ivy,
Computes the death I long for
In the soft, deep urn of flesh.
On head-surmounted pagan terms
Of Pallas and Apollon
I languish in reluctant life
The pauvre undying lover.
Oh and I have found a poem I don't think I sent you.