"The purple dream" has been accepted for distribution in France and the challenging translation project has commenced. ----------------------------------------------- I was plunged into a wonder, at my vicarious depravity. I called out upon my devil, and sent it forth, malign and villainous, with bestial avidity, relentless like a man of stone. Before I went to bed, unable to see what I was looking at, I had sent my workers to that unnamed land, the land with no colours. I sent them to reconnoiter. I must have been in bed for a thousand nights. I woke up on the morrow, to a letter of complaint, that was laid on my desk by a fretful attitude. My trousers lay under a floor lamp, with their pockets inside out. The desk drawer stood open, and by the hearth, there lay a pile of notepapers. I sat in the sun on my balcony, in my blue silk pajamas. The animal inside was licking the fresh wound, licking the chops of recent memory, the spiritual side drowsed, promising subsequent penitence. The animal with warm eyes, and wings of tears, looked at the sad soul and contested; thou must never accept the illusory fog; thou must remember: we deserve what we accept. Ah … I could never be the judge of the merit of these verses. They were so hallowed by melancholy of the air, and were sung, perhaps soothed me, by a master at a time so fitting. The purple dream, Paul Gouda chapters.indigo.ca/books/the-purple-dream/9781475992427-item.html?ikwid=paul+gouda&ikwsec=Home&gcs_requestid=0CKiXzpi9iLoCFYpo5wodHgoAAA
Posted on: Wed, 09 Oct 2013 00:23:05 +0000
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