my brother, dearest one,
you whose mouth shape makes
the night as sharp as the whip
why have you silenced the wind?
I remember you in the summer field
dark and reckless
oh how young you were, and how thin
your transparent feet took then their place in my heart
and black birds startled
falling towards the sky
you parted my hair in half and I thought
you wanted to hide a kiss
but you placed a dead bird instead
the blackest one, the one with broken feet
you put it carefully on top of my head
my brother, dearest one,
why have you silenced the wheat?
why have you turned me into the grave
of the black bird without a wing?
Frumos prins!
ReplyDeleteSome lovely images here:"the night as sharp as the whip", "falling towards the sky" etc. Very moving.
ReplyDeletei like such fields with cornflowers and poppies and the white flowers and they always, always have crows, do you know, by tolstoy, the other tolstoy, Alexej, he has written a story called "Lindere meinen Kummer" or something like that and i was thinking the field in the story must look exactly like this one. it's a wonderful story. wish i could read it to you.
ReplyDeleteexcelent, stau si ma gandesc - daca iti iei un aparat nou cu siguranta nu vei mai face astfel de lucrari superbe, sa stii ca iti port ghinion :)) nu ai voie sa ai alt aparat.
ReplyDeletemultumesc, edith!
ReplyDeletedave: I am glad that you like it.
vali, daca nu o sa-mi mai iasa nimic dupa aia, stiu pe cine sa dau vina :-)
yes, a, I know you like such fields. I have more of them to show you. but these are not crows (I know b will be disappointed, and I would have never betrayed this secret if you hadn't brought that up :-) after all, if we think of them as crows, they will become crows, won't they?). you can see them in the other pictures that I posted, they are little sparrows. crows would have been more dramatic, I agree, but what can I do.
ReplyDeleteI don't know the story. you WILL read it to me some day. but, there will be so many things to be read and to be listened to...
that's so tricky of you! How can what is black become blue?
ReplyDeletewonderful photos, black and blue, btw.
:-)
ReplyDeletewell, for the modern soul we'll call that technology (how awful it sounds, doesn't it), and for the ancient soul we'll call that spell, or magic.
but no, I have got no spell to turn a black sun into a blue one :-)
Oh.
ReplyDeleteno spells for that?
You can try 5722670. Just ask for the master magician. He always helps.
oh b, the master magician is so old and forgotten by now, I'm afraid. I doubt he is still alive.
ReplyDeletebut always so eager to help, b, thank you :-) still, I wonder why you would help me here, why would a black sun want to become blue? that is the question :-)
"old and forgotten"? How cruel! Is he forgotten becaue he is old? Ageism! And there I was, thinking you were a modern! Pfftt!
ReplyDeleteAnyway, he's only 70-or so people say.
But no, I think we're making progress. I'm glad you've now admitted that this imaginary figure of yours probably doesn't exist. In our next session...
incantator.
ReplyDeleteb, no, he is forgotten because he forgot himself who he really was (now how is that for a drunkard's rambling? I am learning from you, as always :-P)
ReplyDeletenext session?!! b, still dreaming about that couch, aren't you? I believe they call this 'fixation', to borrow your vocabulary :-P
multumesc, dan.
ReplyDeleteNein, this is vat we call the freudian projection, ya?
ReplyDelete*that* couch? I don't want to sound like a pedantic **** but ..er..like, what are you talking about?
forgetting..happens all the time..why, even God says: Remember me and I will remember you.