Do you know the land where the lemon-trees blossom, where the golden oranges glow in the dark foliage, a soft wind blows from the blue sky, and the myrtle stands silent and the bay-tree is tall? Do you know it perhaps? It is there, there that I would like to go with you, my beloved.
Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn,
Im dunkeln Laub die Goldorangen glühn,
Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht?
Kennst du es wohl? Dahin!
Dahin möcht’ ich mit dir,
O mein Geliebter, ziehn.
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Friday, March 27, 2026
Sicily, Bearing Fairest Fruit
ἀριστοκάρπου Σικελίας are the opening words of Bacchylides, Odes 3. Thanks to Eric Thomson for this photograph of a Sicilian lemon:
These lines of Goethe also come to mind (tr. David Luke):
