Igor Stravinsky | Le Sacre du Printemps

YARILA BY SERGEY GORODETSKY First to sharpen the ax-flint they bent, On the green they had gathered, unpent, They had gathered beneath the green tent. There where whitens a pale tree-trunk, naked, There where whitens a pale linden trunk. By the linden tree, by the young linden, By the linden tree, by the young linden, [...]

Andrei Tarkovsky | Mirror

“when i sleep, i know no fear, no, trouble no bliss. blessing on him who invented sleep. the common coin that purchases all things, the balance that levels shepherd and king, fool and wise man. there is only one bad thing about sound sleep. they say it closely resembles death.” Mirror  is a 1975 art film directed by Andrei [...]

The Second Coming | H. B. Yeats

The Second Coming is a poem written by Irish poet W. B. Yeats in 1919, first printed in The Dial in November 1920, and afterwards included in his 1921 collection of verses Michael Robartes and the Dancer. The poem uses Christian imagery regarding the Apocalypse and Second Coming to allegorically describe the atmosphere of post-war Europe. It is considered a major work of modernist poetry and has been reprinted in several collections. The [...]

Even Because

Because it all just breaks apart, and the pieces scatter andrearrange without much fanfare or notice. Because you can’t and don’t remember the step that kicked updust and left this planet—you’d give up even more now. Because the body itself—the heart’s not dead but deeper, wrapped up in curtains, a different color,among the railings and [...]

Le langage des fleurs

Élévation Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées,Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers,Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers,Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées, Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité,Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l'onde,Tu sillonnes gaiement l'immensité profondeAvec une indicible et mâle volupté. Envole-toi bien loin [...]

La forêt dans la hache

On vient de mourir mais je suis vivant et cependant je n’ai plus d’âme. Je n’ai plus qu’un corps transparent à l’intérieur duquel des colombes transparentes se jettent sur un poignard transparent tenu par une main transparente. Je vois l’effort dans toute sa beauté, l’effort réel qui ne se chiffre par rien, peu avant la [...]