poetry lost and found...
birdman eating uses pages from old books to put under the iron pans it serves its eggs in...I thought the poem Andrew had a few weeks back was lovely, in an oldfashioned melancholy way, but the grease got to it and now the actual words have gone from my mind.
more permanent, however, is this old sanskrit poem that I saw tattooed in longhand script on the nape of a young man's neck yesterday:
"Look well to this day
For it is life
The very best of life.
In its brief course lie all
The realities and truths of existence,
The joy of growth, the splendour of action,
The glory of power.
For yesterday is but a memory.
And tomorrow is only a vision.
But today well lived
Makes every yesterday a memory of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore to this day.