our life, this temporary eclipse^*

naquela mesma tarde, a Poesia Incompleta. e, se lá entrei em boa companhia, à saída éramos ainda mais e, portanto, melhores:


Trilogy/Trilogia, H.D. (Hilda Doolittle)



Every hour, every moment / has its specific attendant Spirit; // the clock-hand, minute by minute, / ticks round its prescribed orbit; // but this curious mechanical perfection / should not separate but relate rather, // our life, this temporary eclipse^* / to that other...