MirrorMask

I saw a beautiful movie yesterday called MirrorMask. Written by Neil Gaiman and directed by Dave McKean.

Sometimes you just want to cry

The winter here’s cold, and bitter
It’s chilled us to the bone
We haven’t seen the sun for weeks
To long too far from home
I feel just like I’m sinking
And I claw for solid ground
I’m pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
Oh darkness I feel like letting go

If all of the strength and all of the courage
Come and lift me from this place
I know I could love you much better than this
Full of grace, Full of grace, My love

So it’s better this way, I said
Having seen this place before
Where everything we said and did
Hurts us all the more
Its just that we stayed, too long
In the same old sickly skin
I’m pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
Oh darkness I feel like letting go

If all of the strength and all of the courage
Come and lift me from this place
I know I could love you much better than this
Full of grace, Full of grace, My love

SM

Prayer

I heard perhaps one of the most moving recordings of, in my opinion, the most beautiful of prayers "The Prayer of Saint Francis" sung by Sarah McLachland.


Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.


O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

Night Poem

As this is my last night in "freedom", before going into the hard life of the working man, I choose to devote this night and this day's post to Walt. The poet who gave us the song of himself and the song of America. But I will also devote a thought to Hopper, who's nightly image of the hawks is a favourite of mine. Have a very good night and a couple of sweet dreams to go.




I WANDER all night in my vision,

Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noise- lessly stepping and stopping,

Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,

Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill- assorted, contradictory,

Pausing, gazing, bending, stopping.

How solemn they look there, stretched and still!

How quiet they breathe, the little children in their cradles!

The wretched features of ennuyees, the white features of corpses, the livid faces of drunk- ards, the sick-gray faces of onanists,

The gashed bodies on battle-fields, the insane in their strong-doored rooms, the sacred idiots,

The new-born emerging from gates, and the dying emerging from gates,

The night pervades them and enfolds them.

WW

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

COME live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks	5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,	10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,	15
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.	20
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing	25
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love. Chris. Marlowe

Voltaire on the Earl of Rochester

THE EARL OF ROCHESTER’S name is universally known. Mr. de St. Evremont has made very frequent mention of him, but then he has represented this famous nobleman in no other light than as the man of pleasure, as one who was the idol of the fair; but, with regard to myself, I would willingly describe in him the man of genius, the great poet. Among other pieces which display the shining imagination his lordship only could boast, he wrote some satires on the same subjects as those our celebrated Boileau made choice of. I do not know any better method of improving the taste than to compare the productions of such great geniuses as have exercised their talent on the same subject. Boileau declaims as follows against human reason in his “Satire on Man”:

And puffed with pride, this haughty thing would fain

Be think himself the only stay and prop

That holds the mighty frame of Nature up.

The skies and stars his properties must seem,

. . . . . . . .

Of all the creatures he’s the lord, he cries.

. . . . . . . .

And who is there, say you, that dares deny

So owned a truth? That may be, sir, do I.

. . . . . . . .

This boasted monarch of the world who awes

The creatures here, and with his nod gives laws

This self-named king, who thus pretends to be

The lord of all, how many lords has he?”

Der Doppelgänger

How often have you wished to be two places at the same time, like perhaps taking an oral exam and drinking beer? And when you are tired and want to sleep be able to keep on going? Well, why not?

Still ist die Nacht, es ruhen die Gassen,
In diesem Hause wohnte mein Schatz;
Sie hat schon längst die Stadt verlassen,
Doch steht noch das Haus auf demselben Platz.

Da steht auch ein Mensch und starrt in die Höhe,
Und ringt die Hände, vor Schmerzensgewalt;
Mir graust es, wenn ich sein Antlitz sehe -
Der Mond zeigt mir meine eigne Gestalt.

Du Doppelgänger! du bleicher Geselle!
Was äffst du nach mein Liebesleid,
das mich gequält auf dieser Stelle,
So manche Nacht, in alter Zeit?

Heinrich Heine