Brutal Sekura

Dear C*****

Thank you very much.
If *****iets over een dossier******, we will have some work to do together.
Unfortunately they have not. Then what we have now between us is Sakura ( Japanese name of Cherry ).

Almost all cherry blossoms have been blown away and fallen by stong wind and scoll of April's unstable weather.
Actually ' April is the cruel( or brutal ) season '  ( 1st line of the poem book of The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot )  

1. We use leaves of cherry for wrapping rice cake with sweet red beens inside.
2. 2, 3 tiny petals of cherry are put to float on thin sea weed tasted soup and petals give us slightly touchy scent..
3. In Chinese restaulant, they use petals for finger bowls. This is very much like the soup of 2. Please take care not to drink.

Ik had een paar vragen gesteld over het blauwe bouwmarktzeil op de  NRC-foto(© mlrt dank) bovenaan mijn blog. Omdat ze toch niet beantwoord zijn, laat ik ze maar weg.

T.S. Eliot aan de Starnbergersee gedeeltelijk in het Duits? Ik moet alweer studeren, opzoeken en uitzoeken; was ik net lekker op weg met Tsjechov (Чехов) [kaartjes voor De Meeuw besteld, kan ik die kaartjes omruilen voor de poëzieavond?] begint hij opeens over T.S. Eliot.
Ik weet nix van T.S. We hadden vroeger twee levensgezellige buurmannen, die gingen ieder jaar naar Starnberg op vakantie, zou T.S...?
Ik laat me niet kisten door die Jap.. eind augustus weet ik alles over T.S.

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965).  The Waste Land.  1922. eerste strofe

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.