gri_2003_m_46_b04_f09_021
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.092
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.042
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- WINNER - 66532629 - Preacher357
- 66594495 - NVarellas
- 66662647 - SilverSeadog
- 66898021 - applepi314
- 68206277 - JanetCormack
- 68299715 - jesseytucker
WINNER - 66532629 - Preacher357
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
Held in the plenitude fatal to tears,
And future bibliographers lament
Darwinian survivors - guilt implores
Some monuments to test and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the stars
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at whom she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbour - that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her,
Mirrors watch women for a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
Pagan haloes worn by pearl-divers:
Dead star in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.
66594495 - NVarellas
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
Held in the plentitude fatal to tears,
And future bibliographers lament
Darwinian survivors - guilt implores
Some monuments to test and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the starts
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned,
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at whom she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbor - that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her.
Mirrors watch women for a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
Pagan haloes worn by pearl-divers:
Dead star in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.
66662647 - SilverSeadog
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
held in the plenitude fatal to tears,
Darwinian survivors - guilt implores
Some monuments to rest and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the stars
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned,
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at whom she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbour - that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her.
Mirrors watch women fo a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
Pagan haloes worn by pearl-divers:
Dead star in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.
66898021 - applepi314
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
Held in the plenitude fatal to tears,
And future bibliographers lament
Darwinian survivors - guilt implores
Some monuments to test and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the stars
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned,
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at whom she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbour - that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her.
Mirrors watch women for a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
Pagan haloes worn by pearl-divers:
Dead star in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.
68206277 - JanetCormack
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
Held in the plenitude fatal to tears.
And future bibliographers lament
Darwinian survivors - guilt implores
Some monuments to test and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the stars
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned,
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at who she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbour - that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her.
Mirrors watch women for a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
pagan haloes worn by pearl-divers:
Dead star in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.
68299715 - jesseytucker
ELEGY FOR MARIA MONTEZAlthough for some, elegies are delayed,
Held in the planitude fatal to tears,
And future bibliographers lament
Darwinian survivors--guilt implores
Some monuments to test and prove our grief.
She was superstitious: then my words
Shall be no slab between her and the stars
Who, dislocated from their light, yet flash
In markets of the void; she was drowned,
In a liquid chantry let her float forever.
Her hair was water and it fell across
Lips which had shaped for love and learned the sighs
Of tropical women at whom she played
In a looking glass the size of memory.
Uncouth harbour--that it could engulf
So easily the trusting multitude
Of heroines who lingered in her parts:
How many died in her.
Mirrors watch women for a sign of life.
The cruise was fiction but desire
Is the circles around a swimmer,
Pagan haloes worn by pear-divers:
Dead start in the vase of September,
Your hair is for the locket of the grave
And heroines you mimed shall mime you now.