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Selected Poems
Supplement to the time of his quintessential narrative, the poetry of Malcolm Lowry has not been rated so far, or read, as it deserves. Perhaps it was necessary for a poet of the stature of Juan Luis Panero select the most significant for his poems that the reader can enjoy your pictures and memories, which are closely related to the biography of Lowry, and of course with his work, particularly with his novel Under the Volcano.
- GenresPoetry
79 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1962
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About the author
Malcolm Lowry
96 books423 followersMalcolm Lowry was a British novelist and poet whose masterpiece Under the Volcano is widely hailed as one of the greatest novels of the twentieth century. Born near Liverpool, England, Lowry grew up in a prominent, wealthy family and chafed under the expectations placed upon him by parents and boarding school. He wrote passionately on the themes of exile and despair, and his own wanderlust and erratic lifestyle made him an icon to later generations of writers.
Lowry died in a rented cottage in the village of Ripe, Sussex, where he was living with wife Margerie after having returned to England in the summer of 1955, ill and impoverished. The coroner's verdict was death by misadventure, and the causes of death given as inhalation of stomach contents, barbiturate poisoning, and excessive consumption of alcohol.
It has been suggested that his death was a suicide. Inconsistencies in the accounts given by his wife at various times about what happened at the night of his death have also given rise to suspicions of murder.
Lowry is buried in the churchyard of St John the Baptist in Ripe. Lowry reputedly wrote his own epitaph: "Here lies Malcolm Lowry, late of the Bowery, whose prose was flowery, and often glowery. He lived nightly, and drank daily, and died playing the ukulele," but the epitaph does not appear on his gravestone
Lowry died in a rented cottage in the village of Ripe, Sussex, where he was living with wife Margerie after having returned to England in the summer of 1955, ill and impoverished. The coroner's verdict was death by misadventure, and the causes of death given as inhalation of stomach contents, barbiturate poisoning, and excessive consumption of alcohol.
It has been suggested that his death was a suicide. Inconsistencies in the accounts given by his wife at various times about what happened at the night of his death have also given rise to suspicions of murder.
Lowry is buried in the churchyard of St John the Baptist in Ripe. Lowry reputedly wrote his own epitaph: "Here lies Malcolm Lowry, late of the Bowery, whose prose was flowery, and often glowery. He lived nightly, and drank daily, and died playing the ukulele," but the epitaph does not appear on his gravestone
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
August 15, 2023
La casa lontana, una nuova imbarcazione
“Stasera Venere canta da sola,/piume cadenti tremano come seta,/come il vestito di un fantasma multiforme,/sagome d'ali tagliano un cielo di latte./I gabbiani s'apprestano a trasformarsi in pietre/che cercando mi persi oltre il sentiero/in boschi che son miei e della mia ignoranza,/dove camminiamo insieme, su ginocchia e mani,/e insieme camminiamo sotto il pallore/di una bella serata, di tutte la più amata,/eppure questa serata resta la mia prigione/con sbirri che scintillano sporgendosi dai rami”.
“This evening Venus sings alone/And homeward feathers stir like silk/Like the dress of a multitudinous ghost/The pinions tear through a sky like milk/. Seagulls all soon to be turned to stone/That seeking i lose beyond the trail/In the woods that I and my ignorance own/Where together we walk on our hands and knees/Together go walking beneath the pale/Of a beautiful evening loved the most/And yet this evening is my jail/And policeman glisten in the trees”.
Esilio e disperazione hanno segnato la vita di Malcolm Lowry, e il bere, e la libertà selvaggia di un vivere all'estremo in una baracca sull'oceano. Lowry ha lottato con il lupo-follia, ha affrontato destrieri impietosi e senza occhi, ha seguito l'idea di una libertà costruita sugli errori. Non è stato mai un uomo stabile, un uomo normale, un essere completo. Ha sempre cercato di scavare dentro un'angoscia indicibile e di trarne come un minatore di verità piccole splendide insensatezze e rumorose incongruenze luminose. Questi sono testi assediati dai fantasmi del ricordo e del rimorso, ossessionati da un travaglio profondo, risorgenti in pulsioni amorose e atmosfere sognanti. Estremamente dolci e gravide e musicali dal punto di vista formale le liriche; di un coraggio fatale nel viaggio interiore. Ci sentiamo perduti e la compagnia di Lowry esclude la paura attraverso la bellezza. Il ritmo delle onde si accorda al salmo misterioso che il poeta intona verso ciò che sta sopra e sotto di lui e, in definitiva, verso il cuore di tutti noi. La natura specifica e insostituibile della poesia di Lowry si dispiega lungo le coordinate del senso di perdita e di sconfitta, ma apre lo sguardo ad una possibile e caparbia accettazione della vita come dono che libera nel dolore e nella sofferenza, nella luce segreta che declina sulle amorevoli differenze del vivere e gli incalcolabili ritorni del conoscere. È raro incontrare un poeta che sappia aderire a un linguaggio così intimo come profetico.
“Le nostre vite che non piangiamo/sono come selvagge sigarette/che in una giornata di tempesta/accendiamo contro il vento/abilmente, nella mano cava/e poi bruciamo fino in fondo/come i debiti che non paghiamo,/si consumano così veloci/che manca quasi il tempo di accendere/una seconda vita che potrebbe/sfaldarsi più dolcemente della prima/e non hanno alla fine alcun sapore/ma in buona parte si buttano via”.
“Our lives we do not weep/Are like wild cigarettes/That on a stormy day/Men light against the wind/With cupped and practised hand/Then burn themselves as deep/As debts we cannot pay/And smokes themselves so fast/One scarce gives time to light/A second life that might/Flake smoother than the first/And have no taste at last/And most are thrown away”.
“Stasera Venere canta da sola,/piume cadenti tremano come seta,/come il vestito di un fantasma multiforme,/sagome d'ali tagliano un cielo di latte./I gabbiani s'apprestano a trasformarsi in pietre/che cercando mi persi oltre il sentiero/in boschi che son miei e della mia ignoranza,/dove camminiamo insieme, su ginocchia e mani,/e insieme camminiamo sotto il pallore/di una bella serata, di tutte la più amata,/eppure questa serata resta la mia prigione/con sbirri che scintillano sporgendosi dai rami”.
“This evening Venus sings alone/And homeward feathers stir like silk/Like the dress of a multitudinous ghost/The pinions tear through a sky like milk/. Seagulls all soon to be turned to stone/That seeking i lose beyond the trail/In the woods that I and my ignorance own/Where together we walk on our hands and knees/Together go walking beneath the pale/Of a beautiful evening loved the most/And yet this evening is my jail/And policeman glisten in the trees”.
Esilio e disperazione hanno segnato la vita di Malcolm Lowry, e il bere, e la libertà selvaggia di un vivere all'estremo in una baracca sull'oceano. Lowry ha lottato con il lupo-follia, ha affrontato destrieri impietosi e senza occhi, ha seguito l'idea di una libertà costruita sugli errori. Non è stato mai un uomo stabile, un uomo normale, un essere completo. Ha sempre cercato di scavare dentro un'angoscia indicibile e di trarne come un minatore di verità piccole splendide insensatezze e rumorose incongruenze luminose. Questi sono testi assediati dai fantasmi del ricordo e del rimorso, ossessionati da un travaglio profondo, risorgenti in pulsioni amorose e atmosfere sognanti. Estremamente dolci e gravide e musicali dal punto di vista formale le liriche; di un coraggio fatale nel viaggio interiore. Ci sentiamo perduti e la compagnia di Lowry esclude la paura attraverso la bellezza. Il ritmo delle onde si accorda al salmo misterioso che il poeta intona verso ciò che sta sopra e sotto di lui e, in definitiva, verso il cuore di tutti noi. La natura specifica e insostituibile della poesia di Lowry si dispiega lungo le coordinate del senso di perdita e di sconfitta, ma apre lo sguardo ad una possibile e caparbia accettazione della vita come dono che libera nel dolore e nella sofferenza, nella luce segreta che declina sulle amorevoli differenze del vivere e gli incalcolabili ritorni del conoscere. È raro incontrare un poeta che sappia aderire a un linguaggio così intimo come profetico.
“Le nostre vite che non piangiamo/sono come selvagge sigarette/che in una giornata di tempesta/accendiamo contro il vento/abilmente, nella mano cava/e poi bruciamo fino in fondo/come i debiti che non paghiamo,/si consumano così veloci/che manca quasi il tempo di accendere/una seconda vita che potrebbe/sfaldarsi più dolcemente della prima/e non hanno alla fine alcun sapore/ma in buona parte si buttano via”.
“Our lives we do not weep/Are like wild cigarettes/That on a stormy day/Men light against the wind/With cupped and practised hand/Then burn themselves as deep/As debts we cannot pay/And smokes themselves so fast/One scarce gives time to light/A second life that might/Flake smoother than the first/And have no taste at last/And most are thrown away”.
June 11, 2025
Si de por sí "Bajo el volcán" es ya de esos libros increíbles que nadie parece querer leer —creo que alguien les llamó clásicos—, y los demás volúmenes de narrativa de su autor están siempre acumulando polvo en librerías de viejo, la poesía de Lowry parece incluso más condenada al fracaso. Y, claro, no ayuda el hecho de que, en la introducción a la antología, el también traductor Juan Luis Panero la haga de menos, diciendo que “fue más un gran poeta en prosa que en verso”. Se nota mucho, sí, que Panero creía ser mejor poeta que Lowry, puesto que el español comete uno de los pecados capitales de la traducción literaria: intenta mejorar el original, y al querer posicionarse por encima del autor traducido, arruina la experiencia. Le quita ternura y complicidad, le sustrae la jugarreta y la canción —la de cuna y la del pub—. Juega con ventaja desleal —la del traductor cuyo autor está muerto— y termina haciendo que ambos equipos pierdan.
Texto completo: leopoldo-orozco.bearblog.dev/malcolm-lowry-ent...
Texto completo: leopoldo-orozco.bearblog.dev/malcolm-lowry-ent...
March 16, 2020
Dos cosas (breves) al respecto de esta antología:
1. La edición es la misma de 1962, editada por Earle Birney, amigo de Lowry, y Margerie Lowry, su viuda. Se trata, hasta el día de hoy, de la mayor y mejor colección de poemas del autor de «Bajo el volcán». Desafortunadamente, es muy difícil de conseguir (yo me allegué una copia de segunda mano, datada en 1985) y los sitios de ventas de libros por internet piden precios desmesurados para un libro de apenas 84 páginas.
2. Lowry era un gran poeta: lírico, de tonos graves y melancólicos, obsesionado por el mar y el alcohol, profundamente convencido de la redención cristiana (sin llegar a convertirse en un predicador), cuya obra debería ser más ampliamente conocida y valorada. Algunos de estos poemas son dignos de la más estricta antología poética del s. XX.
El volumen incluye numerosas fotos de Lowry. Entre ellas, la última que le tomaron afuera de la casa de William Wordsworth, unas semanas antes de su muerte en 1957.
Una joya de libro, difícil de conseguir, pero que sin duda vale la pena intentarlo.
1. La edición es la misma de 1962, editada por Earle Birney, amigo de Lowry, y Margerie Lowry, su viuda. Se trata, hasta el día de hoy, de la mayor y mejor colección de poemas del autor de «Bajo el volcán». Desafortunadamente, es muy difícil de conseguir (yo me allegué una copia de segunda mano, datada en 1985) y los sitios de ventas de libros por internet piden precios desmesurados para un libro de apenas 84 páginas.
2. Lowry era un gran poeta: lírico, de tonos graves y melancólicos, obsesionado por el mar y el alcohol, profundamente convencido de la redención cristiana (sin llegar a convertirse en un predicador), cuya obra debería ser más ampliamente conocida y valorada. Algunos de estos poemas son dignos de la más estricta antología poética del s. XX.
El volumen incluye numerosas fotos de Lowry. Entre ellas, la última que le tomaron afuera de la casa de William Wordsworth, unas semanas antes de su muerte en 1957.
Una joya de libro, difícil de conseguir, pero que sin duda vale la pena intentarlo.
November 10, 2011
Drunkenness, despair, solitude, the sea.
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November 14, 2025The most hungover book of all time.
June 11, 2013
EPITAPH
by Malcolm Lowry
“Malcolm Lowry/Late of the Bowery/His prose was flowery/And often glowery/He lived, nightly, and drank, daily,/And died playing the ukulele.”
His epitaph, like much of his verse, is a bit playful and tongue-in-cheek. But there was also a lot of darkness in Lowry’s life, and because his verse comes across as very honest and true to life, this is reflected in his writing. The introduction to this collection of poetry was written by Lowry’s friend Earle Birney and begins by drawing on Lowry’s poem, “The Doomed In Their Sinking”: “’When the doomed are most eloquent in their sinking,’ wrote Malcolm Lowry in one of the poems in this book, ‘It seems that then we are least strong to save.’ The words are the man. . . . his whole life was a slow drowning in a great lonely sea of alcohol and guilt.” These words characterize so much of the spirit of this work – Lowry, a lover of the open waters (particularly the sea), which he references often in his works, has a deep and elegant prose, but there is much despair in this work, a proclamation of his own personal truths and a search for something to believe in. “Neither [Lowry’s classic work] 'Under the Volcano' nor the success of it, nor all the growing company of readers and friends could save him from his destructive element,” Birney continues. Literary fame and success were tools that further pushed Lowry’s head under in the deep, murky waters of despair. In “After Publication of Under the Volcano” Lowry writes: “Success is like some horrible disaster/Worse than your house burning. . . .” Dark stuff and a contempt for success shared by many writers (I’m thinking mostly now of Fitzgerald, as I recently finished reading 'The Crack Up').
Lowry, despite his own personal struggles, was a brilliant writer, and perhaps much of that lies in the element of truth to be found in his work – he seems to bare all, to reach into the depths of his being and share his inner self with the world, not unlike (though in different respects) Henry Miller, Charles Bukowski or Hemingway. He shares his struggles, his pains and his inspirations here, and notably those inspirations included the sea, Herman Melville and Hart Crane, but other people/things as well. And, in many ways, not unlike Melville’s Captain Ahab, referenced in the very first poem of this collection, Lowry would set the stage for his own drowning. But, the legacy of Melville’s megalomaniacal captain didn’t seem to be anywhere near as firmly rooted as Lowry’s (granted Ahab is a fictional creation) – Ahab’s disastrous legacy was captured only by Ishmael; Lowry, on the other hand, may not be the best remembered writer today, but he left behind some marvelous works. Through his pain and struggle – battling with his own inner white whale, of sorts – he gave us the beauty of his words, and, in a way, lives on.
by Malcolm Lowry
“Malcolm Lowry/Late of the Bowery/His prose was flowery/And often glowery/He lived, nightly, and drank, daily,/And died playing the ukulele.”
His epitaph, like much of his verse, is a bit playful and tongue-in-cheek. But there was also a lot of darkness in Lowry’s life, and because his verse comes across as very honest and true to life, this is reflected in his writing. The introduction to this collection of poetry was written by Lowry’s friend Earle Birney and begins by drawing on Lowry’s poem, “The Doomed In Their Sinking”: “’When the doomed are most eloquent in their sinking,’ wrote Malcolm Lowry in one of the poems in this book, ‘It seems that then we are least strong to save.’ The words are the man. . . . his whole life was a slow drowning in a great lonely sea of alcohol and guilt.” These words characterize so much of the spirit of this work – Lowry, a lover of the open waters (particularly the sea), which he references often in his works, has a deep and elegant prose, but there is much despair in this work, a proclamation of his own personal truths and a search for something to believe in. “Neither [Lowry’s classic work] 'Under the Volcano' nor the success of it, nor all the growing company of readers and friends could save him from his destructive element,” Birney continues. Literary fame and success were tools that further pushed Lowry’s head under in the deep, murky waters of despair. In “After Publication of Under the Volcano” Lowry writes: “Success is like some horrible disaster/Worse than your house burning. . . .” Dark stuff and a contempt for success shared by many writers (I’m thinking mostly now of Fitzgerald, as I recently finished reading 'The Crack Up').
Lowry, despite his own personal struggles, was a brilliant writer, and perhaps much of that lies in the element of truth to be found in his work – he seems to bare all, to reach into the depths of his being and share his inner self with the world, not unlike (though in different respects) Henry Miller, Charles Bukowski or Hemingway. He shares his struggles, his pains and his inspirations here, and notably those inspirations included the sea, Herman Melville and Hart Crane, but other people/things as well. And, in many ways, not unlike Melville’s Captain Ahab, referenced in the very first poem of this collection, Lowry would set the stage for his own drowning. But, the legacy of Melville’s megalomaniacal captain didn’t seem to be anywhere near as firmly rooted as Lowry’s (granted Ahab is a fictional creation) – Ahab’s disastrous legacy was captured only by Ishmael; Lowry, on the other hand, may not be the best remembered writer today, but he left behind some marvelous works. Through his pain and struggle – battling with his own inner white whale, of sorts – he gave us the beauty of his words, and, in a way, lives on.
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August 18, 2024Like many of its cultists, I view Under the Volcano as one of the finest English language novels of the 20th (or any other) century.
Alas, poor Lowry appeared to have exactly one book in him, in the most literal sense: these poems are not really worth reading on their own, but act rathe as a marginal notes to Under the Volcano itself.
Lowry had exactly one book in him; the rest is all mere scholia to the Big Book.
Alas, poor Lowry appeared to have exactly one book in him, in the most literal sense: these poems are not really worth reading on their own, but act rathe as a marginal notes to Under the Volcano itself.
Lowry had exactly one book in him; the rest is all mere scholia to the Big Book.
June 2, 2013
Drunk dial me Ishmael.
May 14, 2025
Gran selección. Por desgracia no puedo decir lo mismo de la traducción. Al ser un conjunto bilingüe fui contrastando las decisiones de Panero y, a mi parecer, se tomó demasiadas libertades que solo le restan fuerza, simplifican, al estilo de Lowry. Recomiendo esta edición solo si leerán los poemas escogidos en inglés. Caso contrario, considero la de M. Antolín Rato mejor opción en español. Aunque quizás sea porque soy de aquellos que prefieren literalidad y precisión sintáctica, por ello, mejor dejo un extracto de The volcano is dark para que puedan cotejar su versión preferida:
Original:
The volcano is dark, and suddenly thunder
Engulfs the haciendas.
Juan Luis Panero:
El volcán está rodeado de oscuridad
y un trueno repentino
parece hundir las haciendas cercanas.
M. Antolín Rato:
El volcán está oscuro, y súbitamente un trueno
Abisma las haciendas.
Original:
The volcano is dark, and suddenly thunder
Engulfs the haciendas.
Juan Luis Panero:
El volcán está rodeado de oscuridad
y un trueno repentino
parece hundir las haciendas cercanas.
M. Antolín Rato:
El volcán está oscuro, y súbitamente un trueno
Abisma las haciendas.
February 22, 2024
This book of selected poems is broken into 7 sections arranged chronologically - from very early teenage poems to those composed at the end of the poets life. The first three sections are not all that good. But the last four sections are Very good, getting better and better as one goes along. Ultimately Lowery became a unique and powerfully moving poet.
24 of the poems are sonnets. The early ones are mostly Petrarchan even adhering to the original, restrictive, Italian rhyme scheme. The later sonnets are Shakspearian in form and some become completely unrhymed. There is also one villanelle and one sestina, both of which are very skilled and meaningful examples of their forms.
Most alcoholic writers reach a point where their writing becomes worthless. It is shocking that the poems in this book get better and better.
The second half of this book is worth reading and rereading.
24 of the poems are sonnets. The early ones are mostly Petrarchan even adhering to the original, restrictive, Italian rhyme scheme. The later sonnets are Shakspearian in form and some become completely unrhymed. There is also one villanelle and one sestina, both of which are very skilled and meaningful examples of their forms.
Most alcoholic writers reach a point where their writing becomes worthless. It is shocking that the poems in this book get better and better.
The second half of this book is worth reading and rereading.
December 17, 2016
Han sido los poemas más intensos que leído desde que leí "Las flores del mal" de Baudelaire, además sus versos son rítmicos y tiene buenas rimas.
A pesar que el título de esta edición y la descripción de la tapa trasera hacen hincapié en "Bajo el volcán", su obra más conocida, los poemas reunidos en este volumen hablan sobre todos los temas que apasionaron a Lowry: la soledad en un barco en alta mar, el alcoholismo como una prisión, el dolor de la separación amorosa, etc.
A pesar que el título de esta edición y la descripción de la tapa trasera hacen hincapié en "Bajo el volcán", su obra más conocida, los poemas reunidos en este volumen hablan sobre todos los temas que apasionaron a Lowry: la soledad en un barco en alta mar, el alcoholismo como una prisión, el dolor de la separación amorosa, etc.
Want to read
December 3, 2025___________________________________
FROM BOOK: Viaggio a Echo Spring. Storie di scrittori e alcolismo (Olivia Laing)
FROM BOOK: Viaggio a Echo Spring. Storie di scrittori e alcolismo (Olivia Laing)
August 13, 2024
Luminoso, apocalíptico, suicida. No hay un solo poema en este poemario que no esté arrebatado por una lucidez insoportable. He liked the dead. And died playing the ukelele.
July 6, 2024
“Pray then in your most brilliant lonely hour
That, reunited, we may learn forever
To keep the sun between ourselves and love.”
this book was gifted to me a while ago by someone dear to me, i didn’t know who Malcolm Lowry was but i had looked into who he was and it saddens me to read his biography. i found reading these poems, selected by his wife, profoundly touching. his writing makes me feel the way lord huron make me feel with their music.
That, reunited, we may learn forever
To keep the sun between ourselves and love.”
this book was gifted to me a while ago by someone dear to me, i didn’t know who Malcolm Lowry was but i had looked into who he was and it saddens me to read his biography. i found reading these poems, selected by his wife, profoundly touching. his writing makes me feel the way lord huron make me feel with their music.
August 6, 2017
Just picked this up from the City Lights storefront since it had been a long out-of-print entry (#17) in the inimitable Pocket Poets series from their prime years (1962 in this case). By that time, Lowry had died five years previously and was most well known as a novelist. I read it in one go 'round about midnight leaning against a sodium street light in SF's China Basin as the fog rolled in from behind me and seeped into the pages, leaving them warped and swollen. I'm new to Malcolm Lowry, though I've heard of his famous novel Under the Volcano before. Not sure I understood what he was on about most of the time, but the Mexican poems, especially, are quite lyrical. Some are a bit dodgy. Not sure the rhymed verses work. According to the intro by Earle Birney (himself a distinguished poet, friend to Lowry, and editor of the collection), the "selected poems" represent a quarter of the poems that Lowry completed, though many manuscripts and papers had been lost and many more were unfinished. It's hard to criticize when most of these poems were never intended for publication. Though, that makes them all the more interesting for the insight they might provide into his creative process. According to Birney, Lowry worked hard on revising his poems, especially the ones from his years in Mexico (and I think it shows). But Lowry has some eloquent, evocative lines scattered throughout. They inspired me to write 2 or 3 of the best (and only) verses I've written in a long time, so cheers, mate.
October 22, 2018
In much the same way that Whitman only wrote one book -- Leaves of Grass -- which he rewrote and added to for the rest of his life, Lowry only really wrote one book -- Under the Volcano -- if these poems are any indication. They serve as more of a gloss and marginalia to that novel than poems of their own. Although he has a deft hand at the concluding rhyming couplet and has a feel for form I appreciate, almost all of these are drafts. I have a tendency to sacrifice for the couplet, to follow the form, and to resist rewrites, this book is a cautionary tale. Interesting, but not full of poems you're likely to break out again. It is not without decent poems altogether. Be Patient for the Wolf, The Comedian, and The Wounded Bat, for instance, are all emotionally affecting. But by and large this book will hold most interest for UtV fans.
May 27, 2019
"Toca el piano con una navaja de afeitar,
el acordeón con un par de tijeras;
un rigodón para todo su público,
¡es el Sweeny Tod de los improvisadores!
Aunque todos los hombres temen a este pariente pobre,
su música sutil produce una extraña sensación;
desafiando cualquier disección,
chisporroteando en ambiguos sonidos
oídos por quienes trataron con cíclopes y brujas,
y murieron en mares perfumados de heridas apestosas...
Bajo la navaja de afeitar, bajo la luz rota
de este mundo sin sentido, caeremos
así acariciados, en la mecedora a esperar;
leyendo locuras; observando el yo; no aceptando nada; aceptándolo todo."
el acordeón con un par de tijeras;
un rigodón para todo su público,
¡es el Sweeny Tod de los improvisadores!
Aunque todos los hombres temen a este pariente pobre,
su música sutil produce una extraña sensación;
desafiando cualquier disección,
chisporroteando en ambiguos sonidos
oídos por quienes trataron con cíclopes y brujas,
y murieron en mares perfumados de heridas apestosas...
Bajo la navaja de afeitar, bajo la luz rota
de este mundo sin sentido, caeremos
así acariciados, en la mecedora a esperar;
leyendo locuras; observando el yo; no aceptando nada; aceptándolo todo."
December 23, 2015
I was bound to love this, I just love malcolm Lowry...although this was not as good as I thought it would be thinking about it, I think a lot of his prose is more evocative.
July 20, 2023
Elucidation in it’s truest form.
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January 13, 2019El Maestro
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