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Sonya Withrow

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“So he sat and listened to pigeons talking, till it seemed to him they were trying to lull the restlessness of Earth, and thought that they might by drowsy incantation be putting some spell against time, through which it could not come to harm their nests; for the power of time was not made clear to him yet and he knew not yet that nothing in our fields has the strength to hold out against time.”

TimeElfland
Book:The King of Elfland's Daughter
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“To those who may have wisely kept their fancies within the boundary of the fields we know it is difficult for me to tell of the land to which Alveric had come, so that in their minds they can see that plain with its scattered trees and far off the dark wood out of which the palace of Elfland lifted those glittering spires, and above them and beyond them that serene range of mountains whose pinnacles took no colour from any light we see. Yet it is for this very purpose that our fancies travel far, and if my reader through fault of mine fail to picture the peaks of Elfland my fancy had better have stayed in the fields we know. Know then that in Elfland are colours more deep than are in our fields, and the very air there glows with so deep a lucency that all things seen there have something of the look of our trees and flowers in June reflected in water. And the colour of Elfland, of which I despaired to tell, may yet be told, for we have hints of it here; the deep blue of the night in Summer just as the gloaming has gone, the pale blue of Venus flooding the evening with light, the deeps of lakes in the twilight, all these are hints of that colour. And while our sunflowers carefully turned to the sun, some forefather of the rhododendrons must have turned a little towards Elfland, so that some of that glory dwells with them to this day.”

ColorDescriptionElfland
Book:The King of Elfland's Daughter
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“Let us consider Elfland as a great national park, a vast and beautiful place where a person goes by himself, on foot, to get in touch with reality in a special, private, profound fashion. But what happens when it is considered merely as a place to "get away to"? Well, you know what has happened to Yosemite. Everybody comes, not with an ax and a box of matches, but in a trailer with a motorbike on the back and a motorboat on top and a butane stove, five aluminum folding chairs, and a transistor radio on the inside. They arrive totally encapsulated in a secondhand reality. And then they move on to Yellowstone, and it's just the same there, all trailers and transistors. They go from park to park, but they never really go anywhere; except when one of them who thinks that even the wildlife isn't real gets chewed up by a genuine, firsthand bear. The same sort of thing seems to be happening to Elfland, lately.”

RealityFantasyElflandEncapulsation
Book:From Elfland to Poughkeepsie
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“On 9 Jan 2024 at 16:30 Wajid Shaikh wrote this poem on the same maze Where they had met- Milenge tujhse hum phir yahi is hi jagah yahi kahi, jaha teri baatein, tera ehsaash rahegi, teri khamoshi bhi kuch kahegi tere zaano par sar ho, tu saath ho kya kasar ho teri duaao mein meri dua, meri duao mein tera asar ho phir us hi jagah, us hi ghadi us hi waqt, ushi lamhe milenge tujhse hum, phir yahi milenge tujhse hum phir yahi.”

LoversLong Distance LoveShayariMeet AgainLovers Story
Book:Sukoon
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