le than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.

　　with this note as a preface, may i just tell you that your verses have no style of their own, although they do have silent and hidden beginnings of something personal. i feel this most clearly in the last poem, "my soul." there, some thing of your own is trying to become word and melody. and in the lovely poem "to leopardi" a kind of kinship with that great, solitary figure does perhaps appear. nevertheless, the poems are not yet anything in themselves, not yet any thing independent, even the last one and the one to leopardi. your kind letter, which accompanied them managed to make clear to me various faults that i felt in reading your verses, though i am not able to name them specifically.

　　you ask whether your verses are any good. you ask me. you have asked others before this. you send them to magazines. you com

上一页  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]  ... 下一页  >>