Then am I a happy fly

23. října 2008 v 22:05 | Peet |  Kniha S(l)ov / Book of (H)owls
"How can you sleep till eleven?!"
Oh, how can I?

well...imagine a situation: Sunday morning. early morning. birds didn't start to sing yet and that fuckin' street lamp is still shining into the room. then steps. behind the door? in the kitchen? outside? no. on your face. high-pitched MIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! and If you don't reply there will come another miow. louder. again and again until you wake up.
so...
then don't ask me how is that possible. just kick the cat out and stay in bed up to lunch.



Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink & sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strenght & breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die.

(William Blake)
 

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