Hokkaido Japan
December 1, 2004 - January 15, 2005
sexta-feira, 18 de janeiro de 2008
quarta-feira, 16 de janeiro de 2008
On Art
One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
“You can erase someone from your mind.
Getting them out of your heart is another story”
Getting them out of your heart is another story”
and a poem by Eloisa to Abelard
Alexander Pope:
(...)
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
(...)
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
terça-feira, 15 de janeiro de 2008
Walking Around
It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
Still it would be marvelous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.
I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic
shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.
Translated by Robert Bly
Pablo Neruda
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
Still it would be marvelous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.
I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic
shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.
Translated by Robert Bly
Pablo Neruda
19 de Julho
19 de Julho
Vou tornar a vê-la eis o que exclamo logo de manhã,
quando acordo e contemplo com
indizível arrebatamento a formosura do sol nascente.
Hoje hei-de vê-la!
E, durante todo o dia, nenhum outro desejo sinto.
Tudo, tudo se absorve nesta perspectiva.
Werther
Goethe
gdyby
segunda-feira, 14 de janeiro de 2008
sexta-feira, 11 de janeiro de 2008
Kurokawa
Kurokawa Suizan (1882-1944) Untitled ca. 1906
gelatin silver photograph
Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography
quinta-feira, 10 de janeiro de 2008
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