Philosophy

Psychoanalysis

Religion

Theologie

Theology

Lacan

Physics

Mathematics

Psychotherapy

Thinking

                                                        Up • Wild honey has the scent of freedom • We are all drunkards • To the Many • On The Way

Anna Akhmatova

We're all drunkards here.  Harlots.
Joylessly we're stuck together.
On the walls, scarlet
Flowers, birds of a feather

Pine for clouds.  Your black pipe
Make strange shapes rise.
I wear my skirt tight
To my slim thighs.

Windows tightly shut.
What's that?  Frost?  Thunder?
Did you steal your eyes I wonder
From a cautious cat?

Oh my heart how you yearn
For your dying hour…
And that woman dancing there
Will eternally burn.
 

1913

___________________________________________