"Un cititor trăieşte o mie de vieţi înainte de a muri. Omul care nu citeşte trăieşte doar o singură viaţă." – George R.R. Martin

Quote of the Day – August 30, 2017: Rosa Alchemica and other writings – W.B. Yeats

Upon hearing these words, the others laughed at him that he was in such a hurry to reach his girlfriend, and someone asked him even though he was going to let go of the school in the old bread oven, where he taught such beautiful lessons to the children. But he replied that even the children would have been more happy if the next morning they had found the school empty and no one to put them to work; and the school, quite frankly, could open it anywhere, for he held his warmth, as any of them could see, hung with a chain around his neck, and the abecedar and the thick scribe with Vergiliu's poem took them with him in the mantle pocket.

Some had said he would have done better to have a drink before he went on the road, and a young man grabbed him by the mamtle pulpana and told him that it would not have been nice to leave before singing to them the song he had written about Venus and Mary Lavelle. He was drinking a glass of whiskey;  but then he told them that he could not be late for me and that he had to go on the road only.

 – You have all the time in the world, The Hanrahan Red, said the host, whenever there's going to be enough time for you to give up on pleasure once you're married, and it can be a long time before we see you in the face.

 – I don't want to stay, Hanrahan said, with thoughts i've been on the road to her, to the one who called me, and now she's the only one waiting to go to her.

Then others gathered around him, trying to persuade him to stay, at least that night, with them, for he was a good companion to watch and had always had songs, snores and jokes of all kinds for each of them. But he rejected them all, ripped out of their arms and walked towards the door.  However, when he wanted to cross the threshold, the old stranger lifted up and put his hand, weak and dry as a bird's claw, on Hanrahan's arm, and said,

 – It would be a shame, Hanrahan, as such a learned man and such a skilled song-concocting as you are to leave such a gathering on an evening by Samhain. Stay here and play a little cards with us, he said. And look here, there are some old cards that have been through people's hands for many more nights before that, and no matter how old and old these books are, yet many of the world's riches have been lost and regained with them.

One of the lads around him said:

 – Apparently, though, many of the world's riches didn't stick to you, old man, and look ed at the old man's bare feet, and they all laughed. But Hanrahan did not laugh with them, but sat there, without saying a word and remained silent. Finally one of them said:

 – Then stay with us Hanrahan?

To which the old man replied:

 – Of course he stays; Didn't you hear that I invited him to stay?

At that moment they all turned to look at the old man, as if they had wondered where he had actually come from.

 – It's a long road that I came, he said, through France and spain I came, I crossed Greine, passed the mysterious springs, and no one ever touched me. Then he was quiet, and none of those present dare to ask him anything else and start playing cards. There were six people who sat around the planks lying on the barrels and played, while the rest stopped standing behind them and looked at them.

They played two or three games without stakes, and then the old man pulled out of his pocket a four-penny penny, which was completely shredded, polished and thinner, and called the others to put something in the game. Then each took out some money and put it on the plank, and no matter how little the money was, there seemed a lot of them, the way they pushed them from one to the other when one of them was winning, and then taking his neighbor's place. And sometimes it happened that luck was against any of them and was left with nothing, and another had to lend him something, and he paid them back from what he earned; for luck, nor misfortune adhered much to any of them.

Rosa Alchemica and other writings can be purchased from:

%d blogeri au apreciat: