Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.055 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.

This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.

Heaven Scent

by Richard

1.1982 − 0.1995i

Drawing the boundary…

Canzoniere 61

by Francesco Petrarca

1.1717 − 0.2473i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

Heaven Scent

by Richard

Hey love,
I know you’re away, but I’ve been thinking about you every single day.
There’s something so pure, so real about you,
and I wouldn’t change a thing.

You’ll be home soon, in three weeks, love,
Don’t wash away your natural charm.
No need for scents, just be yourself,
In your essence, I find my calm.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

You’re my heaven scent, oh, pure and true,
Every breath I take is filled with you.
No fragrant oils, no floral disguise,
You’re perfect just as you, my love, arise.

While you're away, I get by fine,
The bed still smells of you each night.
I don’t change the sheets, I breathe you in,
Your presence lingers on my skin.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

Remember Napoleon and Josephine,
A love so strong, no need to clean.
I’m your hero, you’re my queen,
In your arms, I find my dream.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

In a world of make-believe, you’re my reality,
No pretence, just the scent of you and me.
Every touch, every kiss, so divine,
In your natural state, you’re always mine.

You’ll be home soon, my love, don’t wash away,
The essence of you, in my heart, will stay.
You’re my heaven scent, my heart’s decree,
Forever and always, just you and me.

Canzoniere 61

by Francesco Petrarca

Benedetto sia ’l giorno, e ’l mese, e l’anno,
e la stagione, e ’l tempo, e l’ora, e ’l punto,
e ’l bel paese, e ’l loco ov’io fui giunto
da’ duo begli occhi che legato m’hanno;

e benedetto il primo dolce affanno
ch’i’ ebbi ad esser con Amor congiunto,
e l’arco e le saette ond’i’ fui punto,
e le piaghe ch’infino al cor mi vanno.

Benedette le voci tante ch’io
chiamando il nome de la mia donna ò sparte,
e i sospiri, e le lagrime, e ’l desio;

e benedette sian tutte le carte
ov’io fama l’acquisto, e ’l pensier mio,
ch’è sol di lei, sì ch’altra non v’ha parte.

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