Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt from Poem of the Mountain, Selected Poems (trans. Elaine Feinstein, with Valentina Coe) [ID'd]
2K notes
·
View notes
Poem of the Mountain by Marina Ivanova Tsvetaeva
0 notes
Cathedral, Mountain, Moon: Single shots like this require planning. The first step is to realize that such an amazing triple-alignment actually takes place. The second step is to find the best location to photograph it. But it was the third step: being there at exactly the right time—and when the sky was clear—that was the hardest. Five times over six years the photographer tried and found bad weather. Finally, just ten days ago, the weather was perfect, and a photographic dream was realized. Taken in Piemonte, Italy, the cathedral in the foreground is the Basilica of Superga, the mountain in the middle is Monviso, and, well, you know which moon is in the background. Here, even though the setting Moon was captured in a crescent phase, the exposure was long enough for doubly reflected Earthlight, called the da Vinci glow, to illuminate the entire top of the Moon.
Image Credit & Copyright: Valerio Minato :: [Thanks Robert Scott Horton]
* * * *
"The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness,
And I see that it is impossible to die.
Each moment of time is a mountain."
James Wright, from “Today I Was So Happy, So I Made This Poem,” in The Branch Will Not Break: Poems
[alive on all channels]
316 notes
·
View notes
Red blood his color and delight,
Red flame his breath that burns the night,
Long scimitars he has for claws,
A fang-ringed cavern 'twixt his jaws,
Red armored is this deadly Pyre,
Who stole our gold to stoke his fire;
A hundred men sought out his lair --
Not one did Pyre the dragon spare.
Ken Widing art from "The Ecology of the Red Dragon" by Gregg Sharp, Dragon 134, June 1988
391 notes
·
View notes
And, finally I see There right in front of me Waiting peacefully Was a bright new day
A little poem written by Athey Thompson
148 notes
·
View notes
095
Leaves in the breeze remind me of:
Your haunted whispers
And promises I’d meant to keep.
Time’s tides know of only, lonely,
Hostages, hours unraveled,
And surrenders to penance.
Even though I’d come eventually
Come down from the mountain,
I wouldn’t be the same;
A far cry from the lover that’d left.
Cadence and its necessary climb,
So for this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
- Hathaway Hayes (2024)
69 notes
·
View notes
Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt from Poem of the Mountain, Selected Poems (trans. Elaine Feinstein, with Valentina Coe) [ID'd]
642 notes
·
View notes
What do I remember
What do I remember
of this light-weight day
above the hillside,
above dark shadows,
looking at blazing white
clouds in the distance?
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)
Note
Let’s leave it at that, shall we? More of a question about memory and what one remembers about one particular moment. Thank God for photographs – they greatly help with the task of reconstructing things gone by.
The photo taken from a chair lift above Campo Imperatore in Abruzzo, Italy, is by my real me, Johannes Beilharz. Leica R4, 50 mm Summilux, Adox CMS II 20 film.
Originally published here.
95 notes
·
View notes