Friday, February 26, 2021


We live in small places on the map,
places which hardly matter
except to those
who take these places into their heart
"This is how I like
and I could not say anything more"
The tug and the pull.
The sun will rise
after the sundown.
I can throw a rope down
from here to my sister's town.
and she will rise
in answer to my call.
It's enough that I see the sun every day,
though the night that comes is dark too often.
Countries live because here we are who say we live,
and we live for what we love:
these little places in our hearts.

Sushama Karnik
Sept 24, 2017

Based on Anna del Valle Marti's post on Catalan Art And Culture
'Most musical, most melancholy' bird!
A melancholy bird! Oh! idle thought!
In nature there is nothing melancholy.
But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain.


Music: Ludovico Einaudi. Two Trees (In a Time Lapse, 2013). - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bwChGwzL7U

Image: Bob Willoughby. Ann Dickins in Hyde Park: London, 1957.

#poetry #coleridge #music #piano #einaudi #photography #willoughby

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