偽，muteness of a Chinese jar。

哥窯自縊後結晶了胭脂蜜：

Being broken by an inferior essence, a failed poem of pretense is made even more poetic than the knees of an antiquarian butterfly.

—“a violent slap of the exquisite” (a melody from the New Aristocrats manifesto)

Very drawn to artist Lukas Wegwerth's series of ceramic works “Crystallisation” displayed at Maison & Objet, Paris—
“The sure, sweet cement, lime and glue of love”* oozing out of celadon crazing of yore... (*Robert Herrick, The Kiss)

All I may, if small,
Do it not display
Larger for the Totalness —
’Tis Economy

To bestow a World
And withhold a Star —
Utmost, is Munificence —
Less, tho’ larger, poor.

～Emily Dickinson, from The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime (CXIII.)

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before—more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.”

—Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

“From my rotting body,
flowers shall grow
and I am in them
and that is eternity.”

—Edvard Munch

The Moments of Dominion

That happen on the Soul

And leave it with a Discontent

Too exquisite—to tell—

～Emily Dickinson

Troisième Symphonie de Gustav Mahler
Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris (Nolwenn Daniel & Christophe Duquenne, Mélanie Hurel & Alessio Carbone)
Deuxième Mouvement: Printemps
Choréographie de John Neumeier

我的美麗與哀愁：some fragments on poetry and soul

“Often the object of a desire, when desire is transformed into hope, becomes more real than reality itself.” 

—Umberto Eco, The Book of Legendary Lands

A poet's soul is written down in words and expressed through the soul of his poetry. A sigh becomes the poetic essence of his soul, a recognition of this delicate and evanescent beauty that is universal, paradoxically transient and eternal at the same time. A breath, the pearlescent powder on a butterfly's wing, an evening breeze, colours of the world at dusk, a mirage on sand, a thought, a melody, a poem lasting for as long as it is sung silently, soundlessly. The efflorescence of fallen petals on a floating piano in slumber of emptiness, nonchalantly awaiting reveille from repose.

*
A poet's soul can always foresee the aching sadness that comes with/after beauty－something that "is," and not "caused"－the featherlight imprint of a butterfly's kiss upon one's heart that weighs heavier than the blood of a velvety scarlet rose...

*
This is the moon's phosphorescence... As exquisite and mysterious as the poetry of the moon, of the stirring illusion of crazing inside jade.


I shall quote from one of the poems dearest to my heart－“Invitation to the Harp” by Rafael Alberti (translated by Mark Strand):

Go even farther away than that.
Where the moon is torn between a poplar leaf and a passionate book,
where there are midnight frosts that candelabra conceal
and where death shivers in the unsteady sleep of the candles,
where a puppet in mourning dies over a tuberose,
where a voice from oblivion stirs the sleeping water of pianos.

Go always farther away, farther away.
Go where floors retain the echoes and shadows of footsteps,
where moths watch over the silence of neckties,
where a hundred years is a harp that has been forgotten.

film x-ray radiograph of roses, by bionerd (via flickr)

“Today in my heart
a vague trembling of stars
and all roses are
as white as my pain.”

―Federico García Lorca, from “Canción Otoñal” (Autumn Song)

Mughal gem set gold mounted jade mirror, Northern India, 18th century.

We hardly ever see the moon any more
                                                          so no wonder
   it’s so beautiful when we look up suddenly
and there it is gliding broken-faced over the bridges
brilliantly coursing, soft, and a cool wind fans
       your hair over your forehead and your memories
              of Red Grooms’ locomotive landscape
I want some bourbon/you want some oranges/I love the leather
                jacket Norman gave me
                                                and the corduroy coat David
     gave you, it is more mysterious than spring, the El Greco
heavens breaking open and then reassembling like lions
                                                 in a vast tragic veldt
     that is far from our small selves and our temporally united
passions in the cathedral of Januaries


     everything is too comprehensible
these are my delicate and caressing poems
I suppose there will be more of those others to come, as in the past
                                                  so many!
but for now the moon is revealing itself like a pearl
                                                  to my equally naked heart

～Avenu A, by Frank O’Hara

*
One's heart can be a riddle to oneself. Is it possible, could it be an intimation of not loving one's own soul would there be a soulmate out there with whom one was not in love?

*

“La noche habla suspiros de hojas.

En el silencio,

una sombra camina la huella de mi susurro.”

"Walk my sigh.

I knew there was none reflected in each step."

“It was the night sea

deep breathing silence.

The message of the conch you told in your look from sirens

where dream gorges of fire.

Ancestral Elixir

walking the stone beating.”

～Three poems: Untitled i & ii, and Deep Blue by Nube Alix

from the series Dialog, 1973, by Rudolf Bonvie (via)

無題 (ii)

(Photo via Stacey)

O Man! Take heed!
What says the deep midnight?
"I slept, I slept—,
from a deep dream have I awoken:—
the world is deep,
...and deeper than the day has thought.
Deep is its pain—,
joy—deeper still than heartache.
Pain says: Pass away!
But all joy
seeks eternity—,
—seeks deep, deep eternity!"

~ From Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 3 (4. Sehr langsam. Misterioso)




Intermezzo from the opera Manon Lescaut by Giacomo Puccini
Herbert von Karajan and Wiener Philharmoniker




Giacomo Puccini: Intermezzo from the opera Suor Angelica

Schönberg's Gurrelieder (makes me faint)

I have fallen in love with Gurrelieder after attending Philharmonia Orchestra's opening gala concert to The City of Dreams: Vienna 1900~1935 series, conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen -- magnificently intense, dazzlingly powerful, heartrendingly beautiful, with delicately tender moments of love. It is likely one of the best concerts I have ever had the pleasure of attending.

The video below is a recording of German Symphony Orchestra (RSO) Berlin's rendition of Schoenberg's Gurrelieder, conducted by Riccardo Chailly, with Susan Dunn as Tove, Brigitte Fassbaender as Waldtaube, Siegfried Jerusalem as Waldemar, Herman Becht as Klaus-Narr, and Hans Hotter as the peasant Sprecher.

Song of the Earth

Dame Janet Baker sings one of my favourite works by Mahler - Der Abschied (Farewell) from Das Lied von der Erde. Mahler's symphonic song cycle Song of the Earth was inspired by a collection of Classical Chinese poems translated by Hans Bethge originally from French, not Chinese, into German (hence the vagueness in relation to the original texts). The little book is entitled Chinesischen Flöte. The final song Der Abschied is inspired by (and loosely based upon) the poems of Meng Hao-Ran 孟浩然 and, in particular, Wang Wei 王維.


六、告別 (出自 孟浩然 及 王維 詩) Der Abschied (Farewell)

孟浩然 《宿業師山房期丁大不至》

夕陽度西嶺 群壑倏已暝 松月生涼夜 風泉滿清聽
僬人歸欲監 煙鳥棲初定 之子期宿來 孤琴候蘿徑

The sun departs behind the mountain
In all the valleys, evening descends
With its cooling shadows
O look! Like a silver boat
The moon floats on the blue sky-lake above
I feel the fine wind wafting behind the dark spruce
The brook sings loudly through the darkness
The flowers stand out palely in the twilight
The earth breathes, full of peace and sleep
And all yearning wishes to dream now
Weary men go home
To learn in sleep forgotten happiness and youth
The birds crouch silently in their branches
The world is asleep

It blows coolly in the shadows of my spruce
I stand here and wait for my friend
I wait to bid him a last farewell
I yearn, my friend, at your side
To enjoy the beauty of this evening
Where do you tarry? You leave me alone for so long!
I wander up and down with my lute
On paths swelling with soft grass
O beauty! O eternal love!
Eternal, love-intoxicated world!


王維 《送別》At Parting, by Wang Wei

下馬飲君酒 問君何所之 君言不得意 歸臥南山陲 但去莫復問 候雲無盡時

The drink of parting
He asked him where he would go, and also why it must be
He spoke, his voice was choked
My friend, on this earth, fortune has not been kind to me!
Where do I go? I will go wander in the mountains
I seek peace for my lonely heart







《效古秋夜長》張繼

秋漢飛玉霜，北風掃荷香。含情紡織孤燈盡，拭淚相思寒漏長。
簷前碧雲靜如水，月吊棲烏啼鳥起。
誰家少婦事鴛機，錦幕雲屏深掩扉。
白玉窗中聞落葉，應憐寒女獨無衣。

Autumn Loneliness (Der Einsame im Herbst), based on a poem by Zhang Ji

The autumn mists drift blue over the lake;
The blades of grass stand covered with frost;
One would think an artist had strewn jade-dust
Over the delicate blossoms.

The flowers' sweet scent is gone;
An icy wind bends down their stems.
Soon the withered golden leaves
Of the lotus-flowers will be drifting on the water.

My heart is weary. My little lamp
Has gone out with a sputter, it urges me to go to sleep.
I come to you, beloved place of rest,
Yes, give me rest; I need refreshment!

Long do I weep in my loneliness.
The autumn in my heart endures too long.
Sun of love, will you never shine again
Tenderly to dry my bitter tears?

(*4 quatrains for the first line - 24 characters only - in the original Chinese!)


《宴陶家亭子》李太白 (or 《宴姑孰亭序》)
曲巷幽人宅，高門大士家。池開照膽鏡，林吐破顏花。
綠水藏春日，青軒祕晚霞。若聞弦管妙，金穀不能誇。

Youth (Von der Jugend), based on a poem by Li Bai

In the middle of the little pool
Stands a pavilion of green
And white porcelain.

Like a tiger's back,
The jade bridge arches itself
Over to the pavilion.

In the little house friends are sitting
Prettily dressed, drinking and chattering;
Some are writing down verses.

Their silk sleeves fall
Backwards; their silk caps fall
Roguishly over their necks.

On the still surface of the little pool
Everything is reflected
Wonderfully as in a mirror.

Everything is standing on its head
In the pavilion of green
And white porcelain.

The bridge stands like a half-moon
With its arch upside-down. Friends
Prettily dressed are drinking and chattering.


(*Hard to see any substantial trace of the original in this translation... Still a lovely little poem in its own right though.)

And... the other three which seem to have been established by scholars to be the less ambiguous ones.


一、 大地悲傷的飲酒歌 (出自：李白「悲歌行」)
1. Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde (Drinking Song of Earth's Misery), based on a poem by Li Bai

李白《悲歌行》

悲來乎 悲來乎 主人有酒且莫斟 聽我一曲悲來吟
悲來不吟還不笑 天下無人知我心
君有數斗酒 我有三尺琴 琴鳴酒樂兩相得 一杯不啻千鈞金

悲來乎 悲來乎 天雖長 地雖久 金玉滿堂應不守 富貴百年能幾何
死生一度人皆有 孤猿坐啼墳上月 且須一盡杯中酒

悲來乎 悲來乎 鳳鳥不至河無圖 微子去之箕子奴
漢帝不憶李將軍 楚王放卻屈大夫

悲來乎 悲來乎 秦家李斯早追悔 虛名撥向身之外
范子何曾愛五湖 功成名遂身自退
劍是一夫用 書能知姓名
惠施不肯干萬乘 卜式未必窮一經 還須黑首取方伯

The wine in the golden cup calls us, but first let me sing you a song of sorrow which shall ring laughingly in your soul. When sorrow comes the gardens of the soul lie waste, joy and song fade and die: Dark is life, dark is death. Master of this house! Your cellar is full of golden wine! This lyre I shall call mine, for emptying the glass and sounding the lyre are things that go together. A full beaker of wine at the right time is worth more than all the riches of this world: Dark is life, dark is death. The sky is endlessly blue, and the earth will long remain, and bloom in Spring. But you, Man, how long will you remain? Not even a hundred years shall you enjoy all the mouldering trinkets of this earth! A wild, ghostly figure crouches in the moonlight on the tombs - it is an Ape! Listen, its howling cuts through the sweet scent of Life. Now, drink the wine! Now is the time, comrades! Empty your golden cups to the lees! Dark is life, dark is death.
(*translation via Wikipedia entry on Das Lied von der Erde)


四、美 (出自 李白「采蓮曲」)
4. Von der Schönheit (Beauty), based on a poem by Li Bai

李白 《采蓮曲》

若耶溪傍采蓮女 笑隔荷花共人語 日照新妝水底明 風飄香袖空中舉
岸中誰家遊冶郎 三三五五映垂楊 紫騮嘶入落花去 見此踟躕空斷腸

Maidens gather blossoms in their laps as they sit among the bushes of the river bank, and the sunlight reflects them in the water. Handsome youths ride past on horses among the willows, trampling the flowers. The loveliest of the maidens looks on the handsome young man with burning desire, her heart's excitement beseeching him through her gaze behind her mask of pride. (*translation ibid.)


五、春日醉漢 (出自 李白「春日醉起言志」)
5. Der Trunkene im Frühling (The Drunkard in Spring)

李白《春日醉起言志》
Waking from Drunkenness on a Spring Day, by Li Bai

處世若大夢， Life in the world is but a big dream;
胡爲勞其生。 I will not spoil it by any labour or care.
所以終日醉， so saying, I was drunk all the day,
頹然臥前楹。 lying helpless at the porch in front of my door.
覺來盼庭前， when I awoke, I blinked at the garden-lawn;
一鳥花間鳴。 a lonely bird was singing amidst the flowers.
借問此何時， I asked myself, had the day been wet or fine?
春風語流鶯。 the Spring wind was telling the singing oriole.
感之欲嘆息， moved by its song I soon began to sigh,
對酒還自傾。 and, as wine was there, I filled my own cup.
浩歌待明月， wildly singing I waited for the moon to rise;
曲盡已忘情。 when my song was over, all my senses had gone.

*Thank you Abdias for sharing with me this English translation of one of my favourite poems by Li Bai.