Remember me...

Calm

Have patience, O my sorrow, and be still.
You asked for night: it falls: it is here.
A shadowy atmosphere enshrouds the hill,
to some men bringing peace, to others care.
While the vile human multitude
goes to earn remorse, in servile pleasure’s play,
under the lash of joy, the torturer, who
is pitiless, Sadness, come, far away:
Give me your hand. See, where the lost years
lean from the balcony in their outdated gear,
where regret, smiling, surges from the watery deeps.
Underneath some archway, the dying light
sleeps, and, like a long shroud trailing from the East,
listen, dear one, listen to the soft onset of night.

Charles Baudelaire

 

 

Cemetery... little story.

The history of this monument was told to me by my grandmother, and even from my mother. The sculptor wished to represent the moment when the son found his mother dead. Believing it was just asleep and kept calling her to touch her, hoping to wake up ...

 

is in the old cemetery in Cagliari, Sardinia, and the sculptor of this work, and many others is Giuseppe Sartorio.

 

Isobel Gowdie