Monday, March 17, 2008


All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

James Joyce

My favorite short poem. I could type out hundreds of sentences trying to explain why, and never even come close to succeeding, at least in part because I'm not sure why myself.