As I was reading Lacan earlier today (who, incidentally, I am completely in love with), I came across a fragment of a poem that really struck me. It’s quoted in Lacan’s lecture on courtly love and it’s written by the Surrealist poet Paul Eluard:
Against this dilapidated sky, these panes of fresh water,
Which face will appear and, like a sonorous shell,
Announce that the night of love has turned to day,
Open mouth joined to a mouth that is closed?
Of course, that ties in beautifully with the whole ritual of courtly love, which is all about appealing to the unattainable. But more than that, the poem left a very strong impression on me. It is such a sad image. And it really speaks to that feeling I’m sure we have all had of heartsick longing.
