i found this really cool old poetry book and this clipping was dated from 4 months before WW2 ended and has been there long enough to stain the page. this literally hasn’t been opened since ww2. someone read this book during ww2 and maybe it was a comfort and im wondering what the significance of the poem that’s marked it but oh the poetry is really beautiful so beautiful & i had to create the book on goodreads, it’s like this nina cust just slipped out of existence…. crazy… like if you google her all you get is her husbands wiki page that mentions she was a translator & this is the first post on this site with her name as a tag…. this is so cool

anonymous asked:

Tou apaixonada por um rapaz ja faz dois anos, namoramos duas vezes mas fui eu que acabei, nunca deixei de o amar e quero ele de volta, ele diz que me ama ainda so que nao quer mais nada e agora nao sei o que fazer para ter ele de volta... o que faço?

Acho que a melhor coisa é seguir em frente, porque quando um não quer o outro quer e fica nessa linha tênue que machuca os dois, acho que o melhor para essa situação é procurar outra pessoa mesmo sabendo que ama outro alguém, as vezes é preciso deixar as coisas que a gente ama ser feliz, mesmo que isso custe sua felicidade. 

About the shuttered sheeted house
My heart goes creeping slow:
Phantoms of beauty cling it close
And with strange splendour glow.

Again the fiery memories burn
Again the wild tears pour:
A torture waits at every turn,
An anguish at each door.

In each grey corner stirs a ghost
Desolate and alone,
Some hour of burning richness lost,
Some passionate glory flown.

How long, how long has he been gone?
How long ago that ‘last’?
Is it a million years, or one?
Or just an hour that’s past?

—  “O Palace Desolate…”, Nina Cust

ijionano asked:

◕ (pick whoever)

(Incoming text from DunkmasterVaxxis)

Smal medicj rodent

media cle mergemcy and i reqire as istance

Vodka was cutts




effects: paoinful

Everyoner in clubb now suifferign suddeN loss of libms


O little lonely star or spark,
Voyaging there in darkest dark:
Hast thou then lost thy galaxy-
Thy high escort, thy bright convoy?

What seekest thou in that thick night?
And how dost feed thine own small light?
From those bright myriads strayed so far,
O little lonely spark or star?

Voyaging thus in lonely ease
On those dark empyrean seas:
Art thou perchance a Noah’s Ark,
O little lonely star or spark?

An ark for life-wrecked refugees,
Escaped from earth’s loud agonies:
A home where rest and silence are…
O kindly spark… O lovely star…

—  “The Solitary Star”, Nina Cust