Andrea, Andreas, Anthea And...
what is the correct way of saying this word?
(from Kingsley Amis and memory)
~~~
The light, when it is fading, is often most brilliant then, most real; it is not trying to illuminate the world, serves no purpose. The light attains a freedom that only clouds experience, or the feeling a child has on her first day of the summer holidays. The falling light of yesterday evening. By the tone of light are we known (Celan?). The crows, faithful witnesses, huddled safe but noisy in the tress, with their dark whispering, recounting old tales to one another. The purple rain clouds darkening and thickening by the minute. Time is of the essence. And yet the light survives, more unearthly, like the face of a stranger who has packed his bags and is on the road again. The light within the darkness is the grey edge of the storm of our lives, is like a Rothko painting, is a bridge, a portal, is like nothing in the heart of a believer...
The wound is to be found on bridges
Where the grave lengthens
and patience goes on to no end
between the shores of our love and death
The wound is a sign,
and the wound is a crossing too.
---Adonis.
what is the correct way of saying this word?
(from Kingsley Amis and memory)
~~~
The light, when it is fading, is often most brilliant then, most real; it is not trying to illuminate the world, serves no purpose. The light attains a freedom that only clouds experience, or the feeling a child has on her first day of the summer holidays. The falling light of yesterday evening. By the tone of light are we known (Celan?). The crows, faithful witnesses, huddled safe but noisy in the tress, with their dark whispering, recounting old tales to one another. The purple rain clouds darkening and thickening by the minute. Time is of the essence. And yet the light survives, more unearthly, like the face of a stranger who has packed his bags and is on the road again. The light within the darkness is the grey edge of the storm of our lives, is like a Rothko painting, is a bridge, a portal, is like nothing in the heart of a believer...
The wound is to be found on bridges
Where the grave lengthens
and patience goes on to no end
between the shores of our love and death
The wound is a sign,
and the wound is a crossing too.
---Adonis.
4 comments:
this Adonis poem is just perfect for the bridge, oh - thank you so much!!!
(now i only need a Bridge to match it :-)
ps. there are no correct or incorrect ways, there is only a never ending attempt.
Celan: am Lichtsinn errätst du die Seele
by its sense of light you recognize the soul
why never ending, roxana?
I hope I can get a copy of his selected poems. If so, I'll post more.
Ciao,
b.
thanks, fff. I knew it was something like that but wanted to just use it loosely.
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