Sunday 6 April 2014

because the earth is full of ancient rumour

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Yes, and in that month when Proserpine comes back, and Ceres' dead heart rekindles, when all the woods are a tender smoky blur, and birds no bigger than a budding leaf dart through the singing trees, and when odorous tar comes spongy in the streets, and boys roll balls of it upon their tongues, and they are lumpy with tops and agated marbles...






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and there is blasting thunder in the night, and the soaking millionfooted rain, and one looks out at morning on a stormy sky, a broken wrack of cloud; and when the mountain boy brings water to his kinsmen laying fence, and as the wind snakes through the grasses hears far in the valley below the long wail of the whistle, and the faint clangor of a bell...






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and the blue great cup of the hills seems closer, nearer, for he had heard an inarticulate promise: he has been pierced by Spring, that sharp knife.






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And life unscales its rusty weathered pelt, and earth wells out in tender exhaustless strength, and the cup of a man's heart runs over with dateless expectancy, tongueless promise, indefinable desire. Something gathers in the throat, something blinds him in the eyes, and faint and valorous horns sound through the earth.







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from Look Homeward, Angel, by Thomas Wolfe






26 comments:

  1. How wondrous! What a miracle is spring. And such a perfect match of verse and image. I am bathed in delight.

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  2. Funny Wolfe, i just came across mention of him: "I’m absolutely sure I have no need of a [fellow-]writer[ly] brother, and I’ve never had one either. I love Wittgenstein and Thomas Wolfe; these are [figures] who have kept company with me like brothers for decades, who I’ll love with all my heart until the day I die and beyond the grave, to use that wonderful expression." Thomas Bernhard (from this interview)

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    1. that's very unexpected, i wouldn't have suspected that. interesting.

      and this: Without regaining consciousness, he died 18 days before his 38th birthday.
      and he left one million words behind, novels and plays. it is like i would have died this year in march. maybe i would have had one million bad photos left :-)

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  3. i would be very pleased to have a small bowl and to have three wafers in the bowl. one of the wafers would be the phrase, because the earth is full of ancient rumour, the second would be the photograph of that bird!, the third another phrase, when the child was a child. and if the bowl were the beloved's hands, not even a fool would need ask for more.

    xo
    erin

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    1. the photograph of that bird was included there not only to mirror the bird images in the paragraph, but also for you, to enter a dialogue with your astonishing bird photos...

      i smile :-)

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  4. va parea o exagerare,dupa cate am spus si pana acum despre asta,dar cred ca, ASA, ACUM primavara a cantat pentru mine cantecul ei intreg. fotografiile,langa citate (cat am inteles, dar cred ca am inteles, nu simt ca as fi pierdut vreun cuvant) sunt cea mai frumoasa idila a progoriei, draga mea. ai ales si ai fotografiat tot ceea ce as fi putut eu visa, cred ca postarea ta este,de fapt,lamura viselor mele:)ma simt ca si cand as deschide cartea celor 77 de dansuri si m-as cuibari undeva in pliul timpului cel mai ferit si mai expus razelor dintr-o primavara pentru care chiar trebuie sa fii inalt si curajos (antepenultima fotografie, o sa te mire ca am ales-o tocmai pe ea,din atatea minunatii de peisaje si nori incredibili, aceea este exact ceea ce straluceste in inima mea; nu stiu cum sa iti multumesc,eu,eu pentru mine,separat de toate celelalte calitati si marinimii, cum m-a luat vartejul acesta cu el,cum ma duce....)

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    1. evident ca fiecare cuvant si fiecare imagine era pentru tine :-) m-am gandit ca poate nu vei intelege, dar nu am avut timp sa copiez textul si in romana, imi pare rau, am vrut sa o fac...
      a fost greu sa aleg pozele, din atatea, care sa condenseze miracolul acestei primaveri...

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  5. That first picture, in particular, is marvelous.

    Millonfooted rain--i wish i had thought of that--i'd have used it frequently: in every fictitious nook where it rained, or drizzled, or even, getting ahead of myself, where dark puffy clouds formed menacingly on the horizon.

    i think it's Proserpine and not Prosperpine, but it's so easy to see why you might have made such an error (he flatters himself with nonexistent accolades).

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    1. hahaha

      unfortunately the psychoanalysis here is not very successful, as i simply copied and pasted the paragraph (though he might still argue, how come i haven't spotted the typo :-).

      i took that first photo during a terrible wind - i also tried to film the little white flowers swaying with the storm (the result being that i had a bad headache for two days, because of the cold wind). but it was worth it, i see...

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  6. What transcends images and text is " the earth is full of the the unfailing love" . Great pairing.

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    1. thanks Lea, it was not easy to choose the photos which felt "right" here, but i am glad that the result touches you.

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  7. You have to take your head off sometimes to see what you feel....

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  8. Tu habites une région qui est vraiment très très jolie. Et toi tu as le don pour la rendre plus belle magnifique irréelle magique. Comment fais-tu Roxana pour trouver ton inspiration dans de si beaux paysages ? J'imagine que c'est difficile pour toi et que tu as du mal !!! Non plus sérieusement il y a très longtemps que je ne suis venu sur ton blog et je suis toujours émerveillé par ce que tu proposes ;-) Des très très gros bisous Roxana et bon dimanche ;-)

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    1. merci Jeff, quelle joie de te retrouver ici, ca me fait vraiment plaisir...
      je t'embrasse

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  9. Like Prospero, I really love the first one; so delicate and refined. In style or technique, it reminds me of certain paintings by Camille Pissarro.

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    1. that's really not because of my style, but because of the myriads of little white petals and flowers there. i explained in my reply to Prospero that it was not easy to take that photo, see above :-)

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  10. these beautiful photographs (oh, the first, and those later trees bathed in sun and haze ...) are nothing less than portraits of the goddess as she rises and walks toward us, and her hair glints in the reborn sunlight, and we see her and think we see blossoms on the trees and in the fields ...

    and the rhythm of the seasons is a mirror for the rhythm of the ecstatic bird's wingbeats, both indistinguishable from our pulse and our quickened breath, as we feel her touch on the warm air :-)

    how i envy the boy in the last photo ... how he already knows!!!

    .

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    1. thank you, James - for everything, but especially for noticing the boy there, it seemed to me without him this post wouldn't have been the same... there is something unsettling about his serious, concentrated look, among those rosy petals, a forewarning maybe, that the splendour and ecstasy of Her presence always come at a price, inseparable of pain...

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  11. nici nu stiu care dintre imaginile din postare este mai frumoasa. toate equally beautiful, equally pure and tender.
    cat de dor ma faci sa imi fie de primavara, acum cand aici este iarna aproape, iar.

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    1. nici eu nu pot alege :-) am stat mult pana sa ma hotarasc... si eu astept imaginile tale, in munti tot timpul primavara este altfel, mai proaspata parca

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  12. my dream that wraps around this text and image is- the soft tearing of the seasonal skin and the rupture of beauty.
    HUGS and LOVE

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  13. wunderschön und rein und herrlich...! :-) renée lächelnd.

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