Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Thoughts Poetic

I'm a nature lover myself, camping, fishing, hiking, all those things that get us out into places we try to convince ourself are unspoiled wilderness, away from the "madding crowd". Then again nature is messy, cruel and dirty.

How pleasant, at the wheel of a powerful Mercedes,
To drive through solitary and grandiose places;
Subtly manipulating the gearstick.
You dominate the hills, the rivers, and all things.

The forests, so close, glitter in the sun
And seem to reflect ancient knowledges;
In the depths of their valleys must lie such marvels,
After a few hours you are taken in;

Leaving the car, the irritations begin;
You stumble into the middle of a repugnant mess,
An abject universe, deprived of all meaning
Made of stones and brambles, flies and snakes.

You miss the parking-lots and the smell of petrol,
The serene, gentle glint of the nickel counters;
It's too late. It's too cold. The night begins.
The forest enfolds you in its cruel dream.
From Nature by Michael Houellebecq
And Wood's Lot



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