2 galaxies collide,
silent in the airless
universe:
what are the chances;
what is the
probability!
Quantification cannot classify,
instruments cannot perceive;
exhilaration of the unknown
exalts the most uncharted
mysteries.
As we part, there are
stars in the sky, in
the streetlamps.
Moving on our separate paths,
destined for our solitary
niches,
it is so beautiful
we can meet in such
covert darkness, ephemeral,
out of the millions of the collisions
that could have been,
and never will be
again!
Showing posts with label astronomy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label astronomy. Show all posts
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
100. Zdes’ khorosho
It’s lovely here:
the sky is blossoming into
night;
it’s hard to believe
the close of day could be so
iridescent, wonderful.
It doesn’t matter that
I love you or
you love me;
the sun has not yet set,
but the moon lifts high upon the
silken skies:
and as you laugh,
creases form around your
molten eyes,
and I smile too.
No, nothing matters but this
lovely moment,
that I love you
and that you are here with me.
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=5860
the sky is blossoming into
night;
it’s hard to believe
the close of day could be so
iridescent, wonderful.
It doesn’t matter that
I love you or
you love me;
the sun has not yet set,
but the moon lifts high upon the
silken skies:
and as you laugh,
creases form around your
molten eyes,
and I smile too.
No, nothing matters but this
lovely moment,
that I love you
and that you are here with me.
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=5860
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
70. In a moment
From the epicentre,
a note rings, born from her
assertive hands.
Metres away, so close
to hear her breathe,
I hang from Loge 13, Seat A3;
I can only see the back,
her floral-printed black
chemise.
Enslaved by each phrase,
each mordent, trill, and
ornament,
the subtleties of the
da capo.
Why is it this one second
of rapture is forever captured by my
mind’s eye:
this one movement,
this one bar, this one
note?
Reverberating forever
like some God-sent
miracle –
artistry personified
in a micromoment of
Mozartian
bliss:
On hearing pianist Hélène Grimaud perform her Resonances programme at her 2011 Royal Conservatory début.
Buy CD here.
Download MP3 here.
a note rings, born from her
assertive hands.
Metres away, so close
to hear her breathe,
I hang from Loge 13, Seat A3;
I can only see the back,
her floral-printed black
chemise.
Enslaved by each phrase,
each mordent, trill, and
ornament,
the subtleties of the
da capo.
Why is it this one second
of rapture is forever captured by my
mind’s eye:
this one movement,
this one bar, this one
note?
Reverberating forever
like some God-sent
miracle –
artistry personified
in a micromoment of
Mozartian
bliss:
On hearing pianist Hélène Grimaud perform her Resonances programme at her 2011 Royal Conservatory début.
Download MP3 here.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
51. Beneath the Summer Stars
The noisy filibustering
had thrust me out of doors;
there: tucked amidst the silenced hills,
the gypsy toiled away.
Her headdress marked with ancient signs,
magnetic, drew the crowds
exotic eyes aloof and dark,
aflame with prophecy.
And as I took my place by her,
a chill swept through my soul;
the Magyar sat across from me –
our eyes gazed potently.
She swept her skilful hands across,
the Tarok cards alight,
their cryptic symbols wild and strange:
and so she read my fate.
And as you watched me tacitly
the bitter breeze grew sharp,
tormenting my unready skin;
yet how I burned within!
Yes, as the gypsy’s tale had ceased,
I burnt with such a fire,
ignited by my destiny,
in fevered ecstasy.
As night wore on, I sat by you
and stole each glance I could
from those intense Uralic eyes;
they glanced at me so brief –
Despite the coldness of the moon,
which spilled across the steppes
and lit the gypsy’s secret craft,
bright hope had sprung in me;
but though I leapt into the flames,
the Fates could not be moved:
forever am I doomed to live,
recounting such a loss.
had thrust me out of doors;
there: tucked amidst the silenced hills,
the gypsy toiled away.
Her headdress marked with ancient signs,
magnetic, drew the crowds
exotic eyes aloof and dark,
aflame with prophecy.
And as I took my place by her,
a chill swept through my soul;
the Magyar sat across from me –
our eyes gazed potently.
She swept her skilful hands across,
the Tarok cards alight,
their cryptic symbols wild and strange:
and so she read my fate.
And as you watched me tacitly
the bitter breeze grew sharp,
tormenting my unready skin;
yet how I burned within!
Yes, as the gypsy’s tale had ceased,
I burnt with such a fire,
ignited by my destiny,
in fevered ecstasy.
As night wore on, I sat by you
and stole each glance I could
from those intense Uralic eyes;
they glanced at me so brief –
Despite the coldness of the moon,
which spilled across the steppes
and lit the gypsy’s secret craft,
bright hope had sprung in me;
but though I leapt into the flames,
the Fates could not be moved:
forever am I doomed to live,
recounting such a loss.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
49. Staregazing
Across this galaxy,
the multitude of light between –
a star shot ‘cross the sky!
The twinkle in your eye
ignites the ruddy brown in mine:
our galaxies collide –
Emboldened, bravely stare:
too curious to look away,
too startled to persist.
I want to be that doll
residing in that fiery eye;
I want to dwell in you,
the way you live in me:
illuminated in the sacred halls
of cross-stitched memory;
Oh, tell me – are you cold?
This blazing brilliance, upon
a skewed trajectory?
Or is this distant fire
a stare to set alight my hopes,
and do you burn for me!
the multitude of light between –
a star shot ‘cross the sky!
The twinkle in your eye
ignites the ruddy brown in mine:
our galaxies collide –
Emboldened, bravely stare:
too curious to look away,
too startled to persist.
I want to be that doll
residing in that fiery eye;
I want to dwell in you,
the way you live in me:
illuminated in the sacred halls
of cross-stitched memory;
Oh, tell me – are you cold?
This blazing brilliance, upon
a skewed trajectory?
Or is this distant fire
a stare to set alight my hopes,
and do you burn for me!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
32. Fire!
Autumn in forest (image credit)
Rebellious teenage girl,
quite new to life –
ignites each passing gaze.
The passers-by
gawk curiously, in awe.
Her blazing hair –
it’s redder than the birds!
August, aloof –
her parents, petrified,
stand ignorant –
she is - some foreigner –
But forests talk;
the whispers burn the air –
some bolder time
is quick approaching now:
decorum dies!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
11. Gunshots explode in the sky
as the initial crystals
combust into themselves,
demons and dragons
igniting the night into flames
of quartz, like Christmas presents
implode into strange galaxies
and feats of aerial architecture
in thunderous booms as if the
skies were suddenly falling
and comets were raining from the
ground up
accompanied by whistling snakes
calling out like maddened birds
flaring into the storm of
sparkling starbursts
and fireflies twisting about
only to end in unknown curlicues,
trajectory
undefined
as if we have not enough
Vesuviuses and hurricanes
that we must stuff them into our pockets
and set the night on fire
for beauty, for pleasure
for the sheer
fireworks
combust into themselves,
demons and dragons
igniting the night into flames
of quartz, like Christmas presents
implode into strange galaxies
and feats of aerial architecture
in thunderous booms as if the
skies were suddenly falling
and comets were raining from the
ground up
accompanied by whistling snakes
calling out like maddened birds
flaring into the storm of
sparkling starbursts
and fireflies twisting about
only to end in unknown curlicues,
trajectory
undefined
as if we have not enough
Vesuviuses and hurricanes
that we must stuff them into our pockets
and set the night on fire
for beauty, for pleasure
for the sheer
fireworks
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