.
.
I'm reduced to being a thing you want to Virginia. I mentally composed a beautiful letter in the hours of insomnia and nightmares of the night, but I was all: just miss you, in a rather simple and hopelessly human. You, with all your eloquent letters ever had written a sentence as simple as that, maybe even not the have imagined. And yet I think you would allow a small margin sensitivity. But the dress with so exquisite a phrase that would become a little less real. In my case, however, is quite bare: I miss you even more than they had thought, and that it was prepared to miss a lot. So this letter is really just a cry of pain. It's amazing how you got to be essential for me. I guess you're used to having people tell you these things. Damn spoiled. I will not make me want more leaving me to you this way. Ah, love, I can be witty and distant with you, I love you too. Too authentically. You do not have any idea how I can be aloof with people who do not want. The have become a fine art. But you destroyed my defenses. And actually I'm not complaining.
.
But equally, and will not bore you more.
.
We started back and the train are vibrating again. I have to write to the stops, which thankfully are few along the Lombard plain.
.
Venice. The stations were great, but I did not realize that maybe the Orient Express not stop there. And here in Venice we were nothing more than ten minutes a little bit miserable to try and write. I have not even time to buy a stamp Italian, so I'll have to send it from Trieste.
.
Swiss waterfalls were frozen and they seemed solid and bright curtains of ice suspended above the rock. So beautiful ... Italy is covered with snow.
. Let
reboot. I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning at Trieste. Forgive me for having written a letter so short.
.
Vita Sackville-West
.
I'm reduced to being a thing you want to Virginia. I mentally composed a beautiful letter in the hours of insomnia and nightmares of the night, but I was all: just miss you, in a rather simple and hopelessly human. You, with all your eloquent letters ever had written a sentence as simple as that, maybe even not the have imagined. And yet I think you would allow a small margin sensitivity. But the dress with so exquisite a phrase that would become a little less real. In my case, however, is quite bare: I miss you even more than they had thought, and that it was prepared to miss a lot. So this letter is really just a cry of pain. It's amazing how you got to be essential for me. I guess you're used to having people tell you these things. Damn spoiled. I will not make me want more leaving me to you this way. Ah, love, I can be witty and distant with you, I love you too. Too authentically. You do not have any idea how I can be aloof with people who do not want. The have become a fine art. But you destroyed my defenses. And actually I'm not complaining.
.
But equally, and will not bore you more.
.
We started back and the train are vibrating again. I have to write to the stops, which thankfully are few along the Lombard plain.
.
Venice. The stations were great, but I did not realize that maybe the Orient Express not stop there. And here in Venice we were nothing more than ten minutes a little bit miserable to try and write. I have not even time to buy a stamp Italian, so I'll have to send it from Trieste.
.
Swiss waterfalls were frozen and they seemed solid and bright curtains of ice suspended above the rock. So beautiful ... Italy is covered with snow.
. Let
reboot. I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning at Trieste. Forgive me for having written a letter so short.
.
Vita Sackville-West
(free version in English by Gabriela Brown)
.
.
.
.
to Virginia Woolf, January 21, 1926
Milan [posted in Trieste]
Milan [posted in Trieste]
.
.
I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn't even feel it. And yet I believe you'll be sensible of a little gap. But you'd clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan't make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this --But oh my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don't love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don't really resent it.
.
However I won't bore you with any more.
.
We have re-started, and the train is shaky again. I shall have to write at the stations –which are fortunately many across the Lombard plain.
.
Venice. The stations were many, but I didn't bargain for the Orient Express not stopping at them. And here we are at Venice for ten minutes only, –a wretched time in which to try and write. No time to buy an Italian stamp even, so this will have to go from Trieste.
.
The waterfalls in Switzerland were frozen into solid iridescent curtains of ice, hanging over the rock; so lovely. And Italy all blanketed in snow.
.
We're going to start again. I shall have to wait till Trieste tomorrow morning. Please forgive me for writing such a miserable letter.
.
Vita Sackville-West.
.
.
I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn't even feel it. And yet I believe you'll be sensible of a little gap. But you'd clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan't make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this --But oh my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don't love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don't really resent it.
.
However I won't bore you with any more.
.
We have re-started, and the train is shaky again. I shall have to write at the stations –which are fortunately many across the Lombard plain.
.
Venice. The stations were many, but I didn't bargain for the Orient Express not stopping at them. And here we are at Venice for ten minutes only, –a wretched time in which to try and write. No time to buy an Italian stamp even, so this will have to go from Trieste.
.
The waterfalls in Switzerland were frozen into solid iridescent curtains of ice, hanging over the rock; so lovely. And Italy all blanketed in snow.
.
We're going to start again. I shall have to wait till Trieste tomorrow morning. Please forgive me for writing such a miserable letter.
.
Vita Sackville-West.
.
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