The Heart, Georg Trakl
The wild heart grew white in the forest;
Dark anxiety
Of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.
The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Travelled in the golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To which amanlistens
In wild despair.
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening!
Out of the dark entrance hall
The golden shape
Of the young girl steps
Surrounded by the pale moon,
The prince’s court of autumn,
Black fir trees broken
In the night’s storm,
The steep fortress.
O heart
Glittering above in the snowy cold.
Sleep, Georg Trakl
Not your dark poisons again,
White sleep!
This fantastically strange garden
Of trees in deepening twilight
Fills up with serpents, nightmoths,
Spiders, bats.
Approaching stranger!
Your abandoned shadow
In the red of evening
Is a dark pirate ship
Of the salty oceans of confusion.
White birds from the outskirts of the night
Flutter out over the shuddering cities
Of steel.
Autolux - The Science of Imaginary Solutions (official video)
sarajevo, april 2012
sarajevo, april 2012
sarajevo, april 2012
Jackson C. Frank, Dialogue
I want to be alone
I need to touch each stone
Face the grave that I have grown
I want to be
Alone
Before all the days are gone
And darker walls are bent and torn
To pass the time of those who mourn
I want to be
Alone
Rivers that run anywhere
Are in my hand and just up the stair
Past the eyes of those who care
Who can never be
Alone
Changes that were not meant to be
Tow the hours of my memory
Sing a song of love to me
To say you must never
Never be alone
The tears of a silent rain
Seek shelter on my broken pain
And run away
But I remain
To speak the words
That sing
Of alone
I want to be alone
I need to touch each stone
Face the grave that I have grown
I want to be
Alone
Le Bonheur, Agnes Varda (1965)
