i'm again physically in my old element
the movement the sound
the efectiveness of people working and living so close
i came from a time of doing nothing but staying closer to other reality -
the warm of the climat the warm of the people
the ones who have been inspiring my life for many years.
so time to inspire others
to talk
discuss
dance, what makes me fantastically happy!...
regressei ao meu elemento
movimentado ruidoso
enormemente junto as pessoas no trabalho e nos dias
numa mistura intima e efectiva...
se nunca senti saudades nestes quase dois meses fora
e porque a entrega tem que ser aqui e agora
uma totalidade que nos expande a vida
e nos da a sagesa da partilha e da luta!
@poein@
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3 comments:
is it the old green element? welcome back :)
Home is where you start from.
Hi, yes, and at the moment is not old but cold! By the way there is this poem:THE COLD GREEN ELEMENT
At the end of the garden walk
the wind and its satellite wait for me;
their meaning I will not know
until I go there,
but the black-hatted undertaker
who, passing, saw my heart beating in the grass,
is also going there. Hi, I tell him,
a great squall in the Pacific blew a dead poet
out of the water,
who now hangs from the city gates.
Crowds depart daily to see it, and return
with grimaces and incomprehension;
if its limbs twitched in the air
they would sit at its feet
peeling their oranges.
And turning over I embrace like a lover
the trunk of a tree, one of those
for whom the lightning was too much
and grew a brilliant
hunchback with a crown of leaves.
The ailments escaped from the labels
of medicine bottles are all fled to the wind;
I've seen myself lately in the eyes
of old women,
spent streams mourning my manhood,
in whose old pupils the sun became
a bloodsmear on broad catalpa leaves
and hanging from ancient twigs,
my murdered selves
sparked the air like the muted collisions
of fruit. A black dog howls down my blood,
a black dog with yellow eyes;
he too by someone's inadvertence
saw the bloodsmear
on the broad catalpa leaves.
But the furies clear a path for me to the worm
who sang for an hour in the throat of a robin,
and misled by the cries of young boys
I am again
a breathless swimmer in that cold green element.
Irving Layton
:)
I think I need some time to contemplate on this poem.
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