In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away

Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may

Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,

But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone

As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green

Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen

Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,

Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

By W.H Auden

“……
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My moon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

Funeral Blues （《葬礼蓝调》）
by W.H.Auden

今日睡前读到的最后几句诗：

（这首诗让我想起《恋爱的犀牛》中“你是我温暖的手套...日复一日的梦想”）https://t.cn/A6JPCUqR

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever:
| was wrong.

—— W.H.Auden

（余下几句放评论区）
#读书，我们是认真的[超话]##诗歌##共读打卡[超话]#