rewriting of Ono no Komachi's famous poem:No way to see himon this moonless night ---I lie awake longing, burning,breasts racing fire,heart in flames.(Translated by Hirshfield and Aratani)
No way to see him... to see her...Ce poème me parle énormément...La clarté de la lune laisse voir ce qui ne se voit pas, ce que le regard ne distingue pas, ce qui manque à la clarté du soleil !Lorsqu'il n'y a plus la clarté de la lune, difficile de trouver un chemin, difficile d'échapper au réel, à la réalité... mais en fait, nous ne sommes que des rêveurs... L'invisible du coeur est cette petite lumière qui vascille mais qui brille à qui sait regarder la lune... même lorsqu'elle n'est pas là !Belle journée Roxana... ;-)Bisous
the seamlessblackis a burning firethrougha rememberanceof a paleglimpse of thefuture.the fragranceis colouris souleven black and forgotten
Lovely and provocative. I only know to write something back. It is this:She came blackerthan the blacknessof a night devoidof moonlight.Yellowfeveredeyesyearningthe way a fireyearns.Burningthe way a heartburns.Driven bya longingdeep inside.She howlsand stopsto listenforhisanswer.
Haunting imagery. Both photos and words.
i have left my shadow there,that silver longing,beneath your hair,your lips.your feet
Background colour so hot and intense played against that vivid slicing of coolly defined flower petals. Sumptuous. See how they shine in the moonlight of fire.
Bilder der Sehnsucht, schön, ruhig und gelassen, ein Weg zu gehen, mit dem Herzen, ohne Zweifel... wunderschön!Ich grüsse Dich und umarme Dich, Prinzessin :-)!Renée
thsi pleasure so dark ... this moonless night --- great photo
Pure magic. Both photos are magnificent on their own, but it's their coupling that is alchemical. The first gains through absence, and the second through proximity. This could be the highlight of my time spent on the bridge.
what a beautiful contrast,the eeriness of the cat alone in the dark and the sensuality of the flowers.
este foarte mult vis acolo,cu toate agoniile si minunatiile lui,parca intri in nimic.si atata claritate,iti vine sa sorbi,in petalele din mijlocul focului.si ceva care ma incremeneste,fiindca primavara ar trebui sa fie luna,o tacere atat de adanca acum,parca ma strabate cu adevarat sfarsitul,nu m-am gandit niciodata la culori,noaptea,fara luna,cred ca sunt guri sangerii,devoratoare prin simtirea supraintensa a noptii.pe langa o perdea grea,de matase,poate am razbi...
'the night is so darkthe way so shortyet you do not wakeagainst my heart'
cher Jeff, merci pour tes mots si sensibles, cette veritable meditation sur l'ame reveuse... bisous Flipi, welcome back on the Bridge :-)how wonderful (and true, as well, i think, poetic truths are equally important, sometimes even more so):the fragranceis colouris soulEmese,te îmbrăţişez :-)Dan, i think Ono no Komachi would have been delighted with your reply poem (as i am) - those were the times of love poetry, i think, unparalleled in history, i can't stop marvelling at how Japan could create such a refined culture in which lovers communicated by means of poems, when a blossoming branch could convey a secret message of yes or no...
Sharon, i am happy you liked it :-)Sutton, thank you for another lovely poem - i know you can't resist Ono no Komachi, i can't, she is one of my japanese selves...Lynne, it took me a while to compose this post, i didn't have a second photo which fitted - when i finally got this one, i knew it was perfect for subtly expressing the burning of the poem :-)Renée, meine Liebe,es freut mich so sehr, dass die Schoenheit dieser naechtlichen Blueten es Dir so angetan hat... ich umarme Dich ganz fest :-)thank you, fff!Prospero,i haven't expected such high praise, i am so thrilled that you liked this so much. i had the first picture and the poem, it wasn't easy to find a second one which would match, somehow i wanted a diptych. i am so happy it worked out so well, in the end :-)
Marion, that is indeed the magic of the moment in photography, i still wonder at the fact that i was exactly there, watching, with my camera, when the black cat walked under the blossoms ...da, Cerasela, şi pe mine mă terifiază, ca să folosesc un cuvânt cu tradiţie :-), imaginea unei nopţi de primăvară fără lună, nu ştiu de ce, poate că atunci florile, neputându-şi reflecta albeaţa, devin cumva neliniştitoare, demonice... nu ştiu, dar de asta am scris aşa, şi iată că tu ai rezonat :-)
Le feu de la passion et le froid de la nuit ,le noir ,le vide l’absence,juste ce feu qui consume.. ..sublime, Roxana..
hello my beautiful friend what a breathtakingly beautiful post and here is my dream for today.Yes the nocturnal lover that flies to the heart through diaphonous folds of floral memories to thrill the essence of being across our powerful dreamscape.oh oh the flowers in the second image are the most beautiful of all sensuous images that I have seen..they contain the natural beauty of the flower with just the right balance of the imaginative life and colour so that they still appear nocturnal but exalted.this post is so magnificent it led me to consider the power of the mind especially when it is exposed in the sleeping dream state.to observe the mind weaver with its forces at work to feel that you are actually there in the field of dreams making love with a lover where the rhea like frozen moon of the conscious mind turns its face away from the spirit but the spirit has its own guiding stars.oh magnificent telling beautiful Roxana, I'll continue in the next post.
yes these magnificent flowers have led me to think about a passionate dream that was sooooo vivid. I returned to my teenage years in the dream I was love making with my first love and my first love in a purely passionate sense was my most powerful love.In the dream it was so totally as if I was with him again feeling and touching him and there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he was there and I was there and it was a sleeping dream. It is so like your powerful words my dream longing burning breasts racing fire heart in flames-It leads me to consider the mindweaver and the intricate complex forces at work that play on our minds and hearts where the mind arranges memories and the infinite number of impressions that have acted on these memories even heriditary ones strewn along a path as long as the milky wayje t'embrasse ma chère amie avec toutes les couleurs du printemps.thankyou for this masterpeice how profound an impression it has made on me.
and yes this power of the dream that enabled me to reach out to him so totally across time and even his death...