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#the death of procris by piero di cosimo
diioonysus · 9 months
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dogs + art
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mlbwsk · 1 year
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Piero di Cosimo, Death of Procris, circa 1495
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ochoislas · 2 years
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LA MUERTE DE PROCRIS    Piero di Cosimo
[...] Así yace, desnuda entre cendales, inmersa en naturaleza que campa sin reparar en que por tierra yazga         demudada; flores, lejano estero argentino, mayas, llantenes, rojas y blancas flores que puntean entre frondas; el agua con su pelícano, revuelo de velas, y azules campiñas en sí están embebidas:         los perros juegan en la arena, las garzas se encorvan sobre juncias o recalan del cielo una por una,         mientras inerte ella se avena         por la gorja y mano tintas.
Bermejas y grandes contra el cielo vense dos formas a su cabeza y pies; una es un grave podenco, la otra         un fauno consumado, criatura fantástica, de negro pelaje, con carnosa, vellida oreja engarfiada; bajo el mentón las tunas setas brotan conspicuas; un cuerno de ónice estriado le apunta en cada sien; finos perniles de la yerba asoman y vedijosos         muslos; ase la mano izquierda el hombro de la moza y la derecha su frente recorre: los ojos plácidos         vacilan; recia, ruda         piedad hincha su belfo.
La guarda del can y el escudriñar del selvático, que ansioso se inclina, tienen pareja expresión de pasmo         y profundo, reverente anhelo: tales observadores salen de sí mismos, si bien sólo para aprehender entresoñado dolor. No alcanzan a pensar ni a plañir sobre los finados celos y quejas, sobre tal bulto humano tendido;         mas con ánimo vago sentados miran, mientras marea, flor y ave viven a su sólito modo, por mortal         pena imperturbables         y jamás compungidos.
Con todo llega otoño, flota la luz que tardo octubre alumbra en el aire y en la marina; las hojas revuelan         en lontananza, esbelto abedul mozo en la ribera, banda de garzas, poseen calma de soledades si escalofríos entreveran la solana; las navecillas pronto habrán partido, y las rúbeas y pálidas flores morirán, sólo las plantas perennes que atollan         su verdor, con perfil de ébano, contra el confín, mientras derraman en sátiro y perro asentados cerca         flecos rojos, lo embozarán         hasta que bufe la ventisca.
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THE DEATH OF PROCRIS    Piero di Cosimo
[...] And thus she lies half-veiled, half-bare, Deep in the midst of nature that abides Inapprehensive she is lying there,         So wan ; The flowers, the silver estuary afar— These daisies, plantains, all the white and red Field-blossoms through the leaves and grasses spread; The water with its pelican, Its flight of sails and its blue countrysides— Unto themselves they are :         The dogs sport on the sand, The herons curve above the reeds Or one by one descend the air,         While lifelessly she bleeds         From throat and dabbled hand.
Russet and large against the sky, Two figures at her head and feet are seen ; One is a solemn hound, one utterly         A faun, A creature of wild fashion, with black fell On which a fleshy, furred ear loops out ; Under his chin the boorish bristles sprout Distinct ; an onyx-banded horn Springs from each temple ; slender legs between The herbage peep and well-         Fleeced thighs ; his left hand grips Her shoulder and the right along Her forehead moves : his mellow eye         Is indecisive ; strong,         Coarse pity swells his lips.
The tall dog's vigil and the gaze Of the wild man, by eagerness bent low, Have each a like expression of amaze         And deep, Respectful yearning : these two watchers pass Out of themselves, though only to attain Incomprehensible, half-wakened pain. They cannot think nor weep Above this perished jealousy and woe, This prostrate, human mass ;         But with vague souls they sit And gaze, while tide and bloom and bird Live on in their familiar ways,         By mortal grief unstirred         And never sad with it.
Yet autumn comes, there is the light Born of October's lateness in the sky And on the sea-side ; leaves have taken flight         From yon, Slim seedling-birch on the rivage, the flock Of herons has the quiet of solitude, That comes when chills on sunny air intrude ; The little ships must soon be gone, And soon the pale and ruddy flowers shall die, Save the untransient plants that block         Their green out, ebon-clear, Against the distance, while they drop, On hound and satyr settled nigh,         Red tassels that shall stop         Till windy snows appear.
Michael Field [Katherine Harris Bradley/Edith Emma Cooper]
di-versión©ochoislas
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cavalierpostcards · 4 years
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Art Postcard, Death of Procris by Piero Di Cosimo DH6
http://dlvr.it/RHhPl5
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Death of Procris by Piero di Cosimo
https://painting-planet.com/death-of-procris-by-piero-di-cosimo/
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