Poetry in the sun

After an endless grey winter, the sun is more than welcome, and I believe we all took the chance to warm our faces and souls for a couple of hours here in Paris. Now, what would be a warm afternoon without a book to lose your thoughts in? Nothing! For this week I’ve chosen Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, a source of joy and gratitude.

The last months came with some accomplishments, but the most important one is that I’ve started reading poetry, especially the works of American writers. Like any other student who is new to this subject, I’ve started with Walt Whitman, the Father of American poetry. Leaves of Grass is a volume that inspires peacefulness and demands to be read with patience. It brings you closer to nature and to yourself. In this celebration of life in all its beautiful forms, the human body is radiant, a source of energy that keeps together and animates the world. The poet captures the human soul like no one other and helps creating an American literature and culture at the same time.

In a world in which nothing is going the right way, Whitman’s poetry is like a river that playfully follows his way through the young woods. In moments when it’s hard to find the inner strength to cope, his words are there to take you to the prairies, to a new world where everything is possible and people, as leaves of grass, thrive.

The sun is shining and it’s hard to understand the words on the page which reflects the light. Time stops. Birds are singing, calling for spring. And Walt Whitman wrote:

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn’d love, 
But now I think there is no unreturn’d love, the pay is certain one way or another 
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return’d, 
Yet out of that I have written these songs).

Sometimes with One I Love by Walt Whitman

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