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Gaurishankar: What is the point of a love where one continues with life and the other dies every second of everyday, knowing that the love cannot be replaced by anyone else?
Poem of the day
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
by Andrew Lang
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...
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