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4 entries this month
Restoreth10:16 Jan 19 2010
Times Read: 1,006
We all search for that moment of bliss in reconnecting with our own soul. This danced poem is a snip from the 23rd Psalm: "Thou restoreth my soul". The flesh answers the spirit's longing to honor a sumptuous creator. My hope is to stimulate cultural dialog to reevaluate the true sacredness of the body.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwats4p_lDk&feature=related
The Twilight of a Crane23:03 Jan 18 2010
Times Read: 1,019
I am haunted by the beauty of the Japanese tale The Twilight of a Crane:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gS8bYiKG19U
It started while I was reading a No theatre play with this theme.
Russian animation inspired by the tale:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0moU9KmJA9A&feature=related
Fragment of a Ballad22:58 Jan 01 2010
Times Read: 1,078
Fragment of a Ballad
by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Many a mile over land and sea
Unsummoned my love returned to me;
I remember not the words he said
But only the trees moaning overhead.
And he came ready to take and bear
The cross I had carried for many a year,
But words came slowly one by one
From frozen lips shut still and dumb.
How sounded my words so still and slow
To the great strong heart that loved me so,
Who came to save me from pain and wrong
And to comfort me with his love so strong?
I felt the wind strike chill and cold
And vapours rise from the red-brown mould;
I felt the spell that held my breath
Bending me down to a living death.
El vampiro by Delmira Agustini20:55 Jan 01 2010
Times Read: 1,085
First published in Cantos de la mañana, 1910.
The Vampire
(El vampiro, translation by Allejandro Caceres)
In the bosom of the sad evening
I called upon your sorrow... Feeling it was
Feeling your heart as well. You were pale
Even your voice, your waxen eyelids,
Lowered... and remained silent... You seemed
To hear death passing by... I who had opened
Your wound bit on it--did you feel me?--
As into the gold of a honeycomb I bit!
I squeezed even more treacherously, sweetly
Your heart mortally wounded,
By the cruel dagger, rare and exquisite,
Of a nameless illness, until making it bleed in sobs!
And the thousand mouths of my damned thirst
I offered to that open fountain in your suffering.
...................................................................
Why was I your vampire of bitterness?
Am I a flower or a breed of an obscure species
That devours sores and gulps tears?
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Original version in Spanish:
El vampiro
En el regazo de la tarde triste
Yo invoqué tu dolor... Sentirlo era
Sentirte el corazón! Palideciste
Hasta la voz, tus párpados de cera,
Bajaron... y callaste... y pareciste
Oír pasar la Muerte... Yo que abriera
Tu herida mordí en ella -¿me sentiste?-
Como en el oro de un panal mordiera !
Y exprimí más, traidora, dulcemente
Tu corazón herido mortalmente,
Por la cruel daga rara y exquisita
De un mal sin nombre, hasta sangrarlo en llanto!
Y las mil bocas de mi sed maldita
Tendí á esa fuente abierta en tu quebranto.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
¿ Por qué fui tu vampiro de amargura ?...
¿ Soy flor ó estirpe de una especie obscura
Que come llagas y que bebe el llanto ?
Delmira Agustini (October 24, 1886 – July 6, 1914), a Uruguayan poet, is considered one of the greatest female Latin American poets of the early 20th century.
Delmira Agostini was killed by her more or less estranged husband at the tender age of 28, but not before she published three collections of va-va-voom sexy and smouldering poetry.
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