Another birthday passes for our lost friend Theresa Duncan… I’ve been told she always loved this time of year and actually celebrated her birthday on Halloween when she was alive. We at The Wit Continuum remember this inspiring muse…
Here an excerpt of The Drunken Boat by Arthur Rimbaud, which Theresa once read in a recording with Wilbur King III.
But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking.
Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter:
Sharp love has swollen me up with heady langours.
O let my keel split! O let me sink to the bottom!
If there is one water in Europe I want, it is the
Black cold pool where into the scented twilight
A child squatting full of sadness, launches
A boat as fragile as a butterfly in May.
I can no more, bathed in your langours, O waves,
Sail in the wake of the carriers of cottons,
Nor undergo the pride of the flags and pennants,
Nor pull past the horrible eyes of the hulks.