so much frost and new scrims of ice and so much snow on the cold road tonight – even a new single slippery coat of snow new-fallen – on the platform when I stepped off the train tonight. and the sky was the black of blue, that most dark blue of a moonless bright star night, and Orion and his neighbors were quite sparkling. I had found the finest translation of Cattulus – Cattulus – about ten hours previous. at the laundromat, ten hours passed – a marvelously chilly day, sky all blue with close floating clouds, as if it is summer. Cattulus heartbreaking volume, with its left-page italicized fascinating greek – this led me to think of what is necessary of greek literature. what is greek? ovid. the famous lyric volume. a little bit of Sappho suffices. the few lines of Praxilla. Aeschylus! Euripides cant be forgot. and of course – as much of the greek lyric volume – but I said that. all that true epitaph. it sears the heart in memory. forget the rest.