I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we’re obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
I like the women too (forgive my folly), From the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze, And large black eyes that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once, To the high dama’s brow, more melancholy, But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance, Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
-Byron, Beppo S. 44-5.
Read this beauty the other day and it conjured immediately the images of my favorite sunny spot, my most-dreamed of fairytale place, the Amalfi Coast. Visions of wine, and kisses and hair wet from the sea, mingled with pizza, and pizza, and dare I say...more pizza.
But good God, y'all, Byron could write.
xx see you back next week for a recipe + travel motivation.