Lev, lev lille gutt.
Sep. 11th, 2007 10:19 pmI fell upon the collected poems of André Bjerke today, because I could simply not stand the thought of reading Murdoch, and his "Berceuse", "Frelsespike" and "Sonetter til en determinist" ("Sonnets for a Determinist", in bad Alex translation), amongst others. "Berceuse", in particular, left me rather at a loss for words. It is very maudlin, but extremely well-written, and he utilised Norwegian so deftly. I think I might have to invest in a collection of his poetry.
Fictionally, I am slowly retreating to my experiences - scenes, moments, in particular - and prompts. While nothing I write is mind-boggling or very interesting, it is good exercise. And I get to play with my words again. I need to broaden my vocabulary. If I have no English classes to rely on, I shall simply have to resort to breaking out the dictionary and thesarus.
Fictionally, I am slowly retreating to my experiences - scenes, moments, in particular - and prompts. While nothing I write is mind-boggling or very interesting, it is good exercise. And I get to play with my words again. I need to broaden my vocabulary. If I have no English classes to rely on, I shall simply have to resort to breaking out the dictionary and thesarus.