.
.
.
.
Everything is conspiring around you:
the waters, the fabrics have been thickening,
the golds and the browns prepare their volumes.
There comes a day of sun and then a day of snow,
There is a deceptive real-life colour.
Mirrors and cars fly past,
Everything rushing to some centre.
The centre of your life where you have never been
Antonio Jose Ponte in Para Ana Olivares
.
P:
We come from a distant past that we've forgotten,
and now we look up to the sky at the stars,
we are the mystery that even we can't decipher,
the mystery of man
the story is told in stone and broken arrows,
in traces of cities unknown, lost in sand,
in columns and castle walls, silent in unseen statues,
the history of man.
Sarah Vaughan 'The Mystery of Man'
.
.
on the floating, shipless, oceans
i did all my best to smile
'til your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving to your isle
and you sang, "sail to me, sail to me,
let me enfold you,
here i am, here i am
waiting to hold you"
did i dream you dreamed about me?
were you hare when i was fox?
now my foolish boat is leaning
broken lovelorn on your rocks
for you sing, "touch me not, touch me not,
come back tomorrow: o my heart,
o my heart shies from the sorrow"
i am puzzled as the newborn child
i am troubled at the tide:
should i stand amid the breakers?
should i lie with death my bride?
hear me sing,
"swim to me, swim to me,
let me enfold you,
here i am, here i am,
waiting to hold you"
.
(tim buckley / larry beckett)
.
DPS:
Perhaps none of this will matter
Years down the line
How will I look back on when
I lived beyond my needs and out of time
.
image: rene magritte - song of love
1 comment:
Post a Comment