Thursday, 6 January 2011

more about dreams, snow and cats


At noon, it began to snow, and we stopped
on the window-sill, and looked out, dreaming
of a walk by the lake with her, seeing
her face, intent, when she listened, pursing her lips,
and then turning towards us her white face
like a flower of ice in the upturned collar
of her loose raincoat. Snow in her hair,
(and we, dreaming of alcohol-algae hung loosely in her
locks), and walking with her by the lake.


And later, someone came
and asked us something. We went to the bar,
and played with the long-legged glass
on the counter. And when we remembered
and looked out of the window — it didn't snow anymore.


And then, last night, I descended
to the bar in the hall, but down there
I was stopped as I had just reached out my hand
toward the bottle, by the moon's icy gaze.
It summoned me to the window — and there,
I saw, just under the terrace's French window,
the cat Theobald crouching, ready to spring
toward some indistinct shadow by the shore.


Then, that shadow moved, and I saw it was
a girl in a loose mackintosh, walking
as in a daze, by the moonlit lake
— I saw her shivering — she was alone —
and, absent-minded, tried to fold her raincoat
up, around her neck. The cat was watching her. So was I.

Mircea Ivănescu



La amiază, a început să ningă, şi ne-am oprit
pe pervazul ferestrei, privind afară, visînd
că ne plimbăm lîngă lac, cu ea, şi-i vedeam
faţa, atentă, cînd asculta, muşcîndu-şi buzele strînse,
şi apoi întorcîndu-şi spre noi faţa albă
ca o floare de gheaţă în gulerul înălţat
al hainei de ploaie largi. Zăpada în părul ei
(şi noi, visînd alge de alcool atîrnînd destrămate
în buclele ei), şi plimbîndu-ne împreună cu ea
pe malul lacului. Mai tîrziu, a venit cineva
să ne întrebe nu mai ştim ce. Am coborît
şi ne-am jucat un timp cu paharul cu piciorul înalt
pe tăblia lucioasă. Cînd ne-am amintit mai tîrziu
şi am privit pe fereastră — nu mai ningea.
Şi apoi, astă-noapte, am coborît
către barul din hall. însă acolo
m-a oprit locului, tocmai cînd întindeam mîna
spre sticlă, privirea de gheaţă a lunii
— şi m-a tras la fereastră. — Acolo
l-am văzut, chiar sub uşile de sticlă ale terasei,
pe motanul Theobald, chircit, gata să sară
spre o umbră nelămurită, pe mal.
Apoi, umbra s-a mişcat, şi-am văzut că era
o fată într-o haină de ploaie prea largă, mergînd
ca-ntr-un vis pe lîngă lacul bătut de lună
— o vedeam înfiorîndu-se — era singură —
şi, absentă, încerca să-şi încheie haina de ploaie,
sus, la gît. Pisica o pîndea. Şi eu.

(the English version belongs to the poet himself)



  1. Oh you slay me you slay me you slay me...

    I lay slain by the side of the lake, in the falling, drifting snow, only the cat came to nuzzle my nose to see if death was really as cold as all that...


    (I say all this of course with the irrepressible smile that stretches the eyes of the profoundly moved...)

  2. I'm sure that frozen cat is thinking to himself: I was much better off on the tree! :-)

    some lovely photos. thanks for sharing them.


  3. On a moonless night in the winter woods, you cannot see the snow falling. But you can feel the icy sting on your brow, and the way it clings to your lashes. Your can hear its crunch beneath your feet as you walk the path of frozen dead leaves. You can stick out your tongue and taste it a flake at a time. Behind me there is the loud thump again on the tin roof of my shack. The bobcat is back. Watching me again. Contemplating how to eat me.

  4. i always feel like i'm transported to a different place when i try to cross the bridge. Naturally, i say 'try' since i seldom make it across unscathed. Usually, i collapse - but she doesn't care. Don't get me wrong, it's not that she's unfeeling (probably not). It's that tomorrow (or the next day) she'll start all over again, luring me onto the bridge with the poetry of her soul...

  5. You have done this fine poem great justice, you have clothed it in colours that make it's harsh noise more sensitive. The photos are excellent, the imagery reservedly appropriate for the surroundings. Brilliant post, you excel!

  6. The last shot makes me think of Anna Karenina. I'm sorry if that is too tragic but I can't think of a better verbalization to describe my feeling response about the lone, wandering spirit that reveals itself in this image, an image I know will stay with me forever. I am haunted and I mean that in the best possible way.

    I also want to thank you for the links you have recommended along the way. They have been so enriching and nourishing and I appreciate you passing them on.

    PS. It does snow here but in high elevations and we have a lot of mountains. But it is extremely rare to see snow in these dry dusty valleys. Hence my extra effort.

  7. das Gedicht scheint wie geschaffen für die Bilder und doch, ich gebe ihnen noch einen tieferen Sinn, mehr Nachdenklichkeit, ein besseres Sehen... Das erste Bild ist für mich ein Sternenbild, unendlich weit, unendliche Freiheit...
    Besonders liebe ich auch das Licht, das durch das Fenster scheint. Licht ist doch immer Hoffnung, Neubeginn und Leben....
    Die Katze, wie wundervoll sie sich mit dem Aeusseren (und Inneren) verbindet. Sie scheint zu verschmelzen mit all dem, was um sie lebt...
    Es sind ganz fantastische Aufnahmen, liebe Roxana, es sind Gemälde, wahre Kunst. Eine schöne Wärme geht von ihnen aus und ich frage mich immer, wie Du es nur fertigbringst, eine derartige tiefe Ausdrucksweise zu schaffen!
    Alles Liebe,


  8. lost in these images ... impossible to choose two or three favorites, but on this visit i share her loneliness, this bowed head and black coat, magically there with her in the snow ... i will be back

  9. oh, că prima imagine a mă gândesc!

    ; )

  10. Je ne sais pas pourquoi, cette photographie d'une silouhette qui marche dans la neige me donne envie de m'approcher d'elle et de lui passer un bras autour de la taille...:)
    Non, mais ça c'est l'effet "neige" ou pluie chez moi qui me donnne ses pulsions...:)
    Je ne sais pas si c'est ta bouche qu'on voit en partie sur une photo, mais, my god, qu'elle est belle ! Je me calme...:)

    J'ai tout simplement envie de te dire bonjour à travers ce message comme tu peux le deviner ! Et en savoir plus au sujet des rêves du pont fottant ou plutôt de celle qui l'anime !

    Amitiés et bras autour de la taille...:)

  11. Owen, those endless Pere-Lachaise visits are starting to take their toll on you, i see now how your imagination has got affected :-P
    (but to join you in this vision, if that were to happen, i would like to be there with my camera, to take a truly unforgettable picture of that cat guarding you in the snow)
    just teasing you :-)

    anon, ah, but even if frozen, he gets to see her back drifting away in the snow, perhaps the richest moment of his life? who can tell?

    mythopolis, is this another of your fascinating dream, or a real story?

  12. Looking at your photos, I was reminded of a winter I spent in the woods under primitive conditions. So, I tried to describe some sense of that. A bobcat did come around, and jump on my roof one night. I was actually inside at the time. I don't know if you have ever heard a bobcat wail in the night, but it is like a frantic crying baby. And, when it is on your roof doing that, it seems quite scary.

  13. Prospero, "it's not that she's unfeeling (probably not)" haha

    but would you prefer she stopped doing that and you remaining unscathed?
    (probably not :-P)

    i am always happy when you find something of interest in my pictures, it is a victory of the highest order :-)

    Stickup Artist, who would have thought of Anna... but i think you might be right, yes, there is perhaps something darkly russian in some of these images, in the poem as well, the melancholy, the cold, the snow...
    sending you links is only a proof of how inspiring i find your photo, they always make me think of many challenging connections and of course i can't resist sharing them with you :-)

    Renée, meine Liebe, ich bin so gluecklich, dass Du meine Bilder so sehr schaetzt, ich erinnere mich daran, dass Du ganz am Anfang unserer Bekanntschaft gesagt hast, Fotografie und Malerei beruehren Dich nicht so sehr wie Gedichte, z.B. also wenn Du einige meiner Bilder liebst, dann ist das doch eine grosse Ehre fuer mich!
    und ja, Du hast recht, ich finde es auch: die Bilder passen wunderschoen zum Gedicht, aber jedes koennte auch allein stehen, fuer sich, und dann wuerde man ganz andere Interpretationen und moegliche Welten haben...
    lass Dich ganz lieb umarmen, ich schicke Dir ein warmes Laecheln diese Nacht :-)

  14. James, i am happy you came back, i think the Bridge missed you :-)

    swiss, ah, that is not a very clever google-translation (i suppose!) but i think i got it: the first image makes you think :-) i could have posted that alone, indeed - in fact, some of these pictures here would have also made posts just by themselves, it is always funny to imagine as many variations as possible :-)

    Jeff, tu es de retour!!! j'espere que tout va bien avec toi maintenant, et que tu t'es repose suffisamment loin du monde virtuel qui t'agace beaucoup de temps en temps, je le sais :-)
    j'ai hate de retrouver tes images!
    ps. non, ce n'est pas ma bouche, mais elle est magnifique, je suis d'accord :-)

  15. ah, mythopolis, a real story then, thanks for sharing!
    no, never, we don't have bobcats here...

  16. Roxana..
    Tes photos enchantent mes sens, chacun de tes post m’amène toujours vers une profonde réflexion.. c'est comme un voyage intérieur..
    Je ne repars jamais vraiment la même de ton univers, ..tes images parfois restent longtemps dans ma tête,et surgissent a l'improviste..
    Même si parfois la subtilité des textes peut m’échapper,et ça m'agace, je perd j'en suis sure une partie de ce que tu nous offres..
    J'aime la mélancolie hivernale de chacune de tes photos,cette façon dont tu nous poses là, spectateurs le nez collé a la vitre face a la langueur et la douceur de ce que tu nous dévoiles dernière photo est si belle, elle a quelque chose d’émouvant..un parfum de solitude ,c'est une sensation que je n'arrive pas a dissocier de cette image ne sais pas vraiment pourquoi..
    je repasse plus tard...
    je t'embrasse bien fort..

  17. well, _she_ cannot tell coz the cat's got her tongue.

  18. This simply could not be more perfect.

  19. Impresionantes fotos en blanco y negro para acompañar a un bello poema, Casi me quedo antes con las imágenes.

  20. Stunning black and white photos to accompany a beautiful poem, I almost left before the images.

  21. Roxana, I particularly love the photo that is labelled catgirldream6 - but all of these are delicious and dreamlike in a cat-girl-snow kind of way.

  22. Sorry Roxana, that anonymous comment was me.

  23. Les félines cette femme seul avec cette nature qui marche probablement; avec des pensées. tout le monde marche en pensent; puis cela fait tu bien avec ce geste de froids. toujours cette femme mince que tu nous fait chaque fois découvrir sans expliquer son origine; si c'est ta copine ou une sœur; peut importante tu aime la montré' sans rien dire de plus. Roxana tu es un voile sans chaine .

  24. the poem reminded me of a dream, and opened that door, though the dreamismore literal of world than your dreamy images.

  25. Ce-mi place prima!Imi aduce aminte de copilarie, cand ningea si stateam sub becurile de pe strada, cu mainile ridicate, imaginandu-ne ca zburam...:)