Epigraph
The nymph who laments, guardian of our spring of tears,
Dares come only within the compass of praising, of song, -
She who watches over the settling of the precipitate,
That it be clear, on that same rock
That bears the gates and the altars. -
See, about her shoulders so tranquil there rises
The sensation that she must be the youngest
Of those sisters, to be disposed so.
Exultation knows, and fierce Desire acknowledges, -
Only Lamentation must still learn; with a maiden's hand
She counts out the old sorrows through the night.
But suddenly, slantwise and unpractised,
She holds aloft a constellation of our voices
Against the heavens, left unobscured by her breath.
-Sonnets to Orpheus, Book 1, VIII, Rainer Maria Rilke
dedicated to Genna, because her poetry inspired me
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Donkeyskin - ON HOLD
FantasyA retelling of Charles Perault's fairytale Peau d'Ane, or Donkeyskin. Ten years before the start of our story, a young king married the most beautiful woman in the world. Nine years ago, the princess Elodie was born of their union, a girl small and...
