Tagliaferro-Saint-Saens I

Pasolini e Ezra Pound

Quello che veramente ami rimane,
il resto è scorie
Quello che veramente ami non ti sarà strappato
Quello che veramente ami è la tua vera eredita’
Il mondo a chi appartiene, a me, a loro
o a nessuno?
Prima venne il visibile, quindi il palpabile
Elisio, sebbene fosse nelle dimore d’inferno,
Quello che veramente ami è la tua vera eredita’
La formica è un centauro nel suo mondo di draghi.
Strappa da te la vanità, non fu l’uomo
A creare il coraggio, o l’ordine, o la grazia,
Strappa da te la vanità, ti dico strappala
Impara dal mondo verde quale sia il tuo luogo
Nella misura dell’invenzione, o nella vera abilità dell’artefice,
Strappa da te la vanità,
Paquin strappala!
Il casco verde ha vinto la tua eleganza.
“Dominati, e gli altri ti sopporteranno”
Strappa da te la vanita’
Sei un cane bastonato sotto la grandine,
Una pica rigonfia in uno spasimo di sole,
Metà nero metà bianco
Né distingui un’ala da una coda
Strappa da te la vanita’
Come son meschini i tuoi rancori
Nutriti di falsità.
Strappa da te la vanità,
Avido di distruggere, avaro di carità,
Strappa da te la vanità,
Ti dico strappala.
Ma avere fatto in luogo di non avere fatto
questa non è vanità. Avere, con discrezione, bussato
Perché un Blunt aprisse
Aver raccolto dal vento una tradizione viva
o da un bell’occhio antico la fiamma inviolata
Questa non è vanità.
Qui l’errore è in ciò che non si è fatto, nella diffidenza che fece esitare.

Magda Tagliaferro plays Albéniz Seguidillas (1932)

MAGDA TAGLIAFERRO playing Fauré Nocturne n.6 op 63

LAURA PAUSINI LA SOLITUDINE

reflections of passion - Yianni

Love bites

O Mare e Tu - Andrea Bocelli & Dulce Pontes

Edvard Grieg - Morgenstimmung

Έλα πάρε μου τη λύπη - Ελένη Τσαλιγοπούλου

Εγώ σ'αγάπησα εδώ - Ελένη Τσαλιγοπούλου

Είσαι αστέρι - Στέφανος Κορκολής

"Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Oceanides Sibelius

Πες μου ένα ψέμα - De Facto

Κι' εγώ θα σου πω μιά αλήθεια.

ταξιδεύουν οι νότες στον χρόνο

"Treat a piano badly, and it will sulkily lock up its treasures of tone. Treat it lovingly and understandingly, and it is one of the most responsive of instruments; its harp of over two hundred strings, its great sounding board and frame, and its system of pedals are all susceptible to the minutest variations of sound for musical purposes, to such a degree that very slight and apparently unimportant motions at the keyboard affect the tonal mass."
(Ernest Hutcheson, 1871-1951)

νότες από το παρελθόν και όχι μόνο

Memory of the Garden at Etten (Ladies of Arles)

I don’t know if you’ll understand that one can speak poetry just by arranging colours well, just as one can say comforting things in music. In the same way the bizarre lines, sought out and multiplied, and snaking all over the painting, aren’t intended to render the garden in its vulgar resemblance but draw it for us as if seen in a dream, in character and yet at the same time stranger than the reality.

http://www.vangoghsblog.com/one-can-speak-poetry/

Evgeni Gordiets

http://www.evgenigordiets.com/art.html

Daddy - Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.


Είμαι απόλυτα σίγουρη πως δεν το έγραψε γιά τον πατέρα της. Στην ποίηση μπορείς να κρύψεις τις πιό μεγάλες αλήθειες.

Barbara Streisand - Somewhere

clair de lune - Enigma

autumn haiku

Le colibri - Charles-Marie Leconte De Lisle

Le vert colibri, le roi des collines,
Voyant la rosée et le soleil clair
Luire dans son nid tissé d'herbes fines,
Comme un frais rayon s'échappe dans l'air.

Il se hâte et vole aux sources voisines
Où les bambous font le bruit de la mer,
Où l'açoka rouge, aux odeurs divines,
S'ouvre et porte au coeur un humide éclair.

Vers la fleur dorée il descend, se pose,
Et boit tant d'amour dans la coupe rose,
Qu'il meurt, ne sachant s'il l'a pu tarir.

Sur ta lèvre pure, ô ma bien-aimée,
Telle aussi mon âme eût voulu mourir
Du premier baiser qui l'a parfumée !


Charles-Marie Leconte De Lisle (1818-1894)

Μια έννοια που έχει τη δύναμη να ρυθμίζει όλη τη ζωή μας: Επιείκεια.

Κομφούκιος

When you say nothing at all - Alison Krauss

“Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion.”

Dalai Lama

“Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.”

Dalai Lama

Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers - Islands in the stream

You And I - Kenny Rogers & the Bee Gees

Une belle historie - Michel Fugain

Pascal Danel - Les neiges du Kilimadjaro

Elles te feront un blanc manteau
ou� tu pourras dormir

Procol Harum - A salty dog

We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die

So Pure - Alanis Morissette

χωρίς εσένα

η σωτηρία της ψυχής

the ocean is our blood

Deeply ingrained in our society, I think, is a belief that the sea as something to be challenged, something that is threatening, something that is a physical presence, an object only. Like the rocks that make the mountains, water makes the sea; it is essentially inanimate to us. For me the ocean is alive and has no end, all life exists in the sea and is connected. We carry the ocean in our blood.
Nearly everything I have read about the sea has been, no matter how lyrical, about the experience of the sea as a physical challenge to the individual, or tries to explain the ocean as a system. Trying to communicate the sea as a place of being is difficult when we cannot be in the ocean, yet we cause so much unknowable damage and hurt.
How can someone write about this place that doesn’t exist for most people but that is the essence of life?
How to communicate connectedness with something that is separate: there is ‘the sea’ and then there is ‘life in the sea’.
Bringing them together, uniting as one place that exists everywhere and giving that unison is the challenge. To me a sense of place is the particular place or environment that allows you to feel and connect with the wholeness of life, to feel and be part of the pulse of the world-animal.

όλο το άρθρο εδώ.

Après une Lecture de Dante

If you don't love yourself, you cannot love others. You will not be able to love others. If you have no compassion for yourself then you are not able of developing compassion for others.

Dalai Lama

Then was my Neophyte - Dylan Thomas

Then was my neophyte,
Child in white blood bent on its knees
Under the bell of rocks,
Ducked in the twelve, disciple seas
The winder of the water-clocks
Calls a green day and night.
My sea hermaphrodite,
Snail of man in His ship of fires
That burn the bitten decks,
Knew all His horrible desires
The climber of the water sex
Calls the green rock of light.

Who in these labyrinths,
This tidethread and the lane of scales,
Twine in a moon-blown shell,
Escapes to the flat cities' sails
Furled on the fishes' house and hell,
Nor falls to His green myths?
Stretch the salt photographs,
The landscape grief, love in His oils
Mirror from man to whale
That the green child see like a grail
Through veil and fin and fire and coil
Time on the canvas paths.

He films my vanity.
Shot in the wind, by tilted arcs,
Over the water come
Children from homes and children's parks
Who speak on a finger and thumb,
And the masked, headless boy.
His reels and mystery
The winder of the clockwise scene
Wound like a ball of lakes
Then threw on that tide-hoisted screen
Love's image till my heartbone breaks
By a dramatic sea.

Who kills my history?
The year-hedged row is lame with flint,
Blunt scythe and water blade.
'Who could snap off the shapeless print
From your to-morrow-treading shade
With oracle for eye?'
Time kills me terribly.
'Time shall not murder you,' He said,
'Nor the green nought be hurt;
Who could hack out your unsucked heart,
O green and unborn and undead?'
I saw time murder me.

Collected Poems, 1934-1952

μοίρα ποιητή - Οκτάβιο Παζ

Λεξούλες; Ναι από αέρα, και στον αέρα χαμένες. Άσε με να χαθώ μέσα σε λέξεις άσε με να 'μαι ο αέρας σε δυό χείλια, ένα φύσημα αλήτικο δίχως περίγραμμα που στον αέρα διαλύεται. Ακόμα και το φως στον εαυτό του χάνεται.

μάτια δίχως λογική - Λαυρέντης Μαχαιρίτσας

το δίχτυ - Δήμητρα Γαλάνη

η ελληνική γλώσσα - Νικηφόρος Βρεττάκος

Ὅταν κάποτε φύγω ἀπὸ τοῦτο τὸ φῶς
θὰ ἑλιχθῶ πρὸς τὰ πάνω ὅπως ἕνα
ρυακάκι ποὺ μουρμουρίζει.
Κι ἂν τυχὸν κάπου ἀνάμεσα
στοὺς γαλάζιους διαδρόμους
συναντήσω ἀγγέλους, θὰ τοὺς
μιλήσω ἑλληνικά, ἐπειδὴ
δὲν ξέρουνε γλῶσσες. Μιλᾶνε
μεταξύ τους μὲ μουσική.

Ο Einstein είπε VIIΙ

Simply Red - Stars

If you don' t know me by now - Simply Red

water shows the hidden heart - Enya

της Σπάρτης οι πορτοκαλιές - Νικηφόρος Βρεττάκος

Της Σπάρτης οι πορτοκαλιές, χιόνι, λουλούδια του έρωτα,
Άσπρισαν απ' τα λόγια σου, γείρανε τα κλαδιά τους
Γιόμισα το μικρό μου κόρφο, πήγα και στη μάνα μου.

Κάθονταν κάτω απ'το φεγγάρι και με νοιάζονταν,
Κάθονταν κάτω απ'το φεγγάρι και με μάλωνε.
Χτες σ'έλουσα, χτες σ'άλλαξα, πού γύριζες-
Ποιός γιόμισε τα ρούχα σου δάκρυα
και νεραντζάνθια;

Το πορτοκάλι - Ζωή Καρέλλη

Όταν μένεις βαρύθυμος,
σκέψου ένα πορτοκάλι.
Το βέβαιο, καθαρό του σχήμα,
τον πυκνό φλοιό, μα πιο πολύ
το ζωντανό του χρώμα, απερίσπαστο.

Ίσως μπορέσεις τότε να συλλογιστείς,
ίσως και να πιστέψεις
πως ο καρπός αυτός, αληθινά
είναι του ήλιου προσφορά.

Κι όταν τ' ανοίξεις, την γεωμετρική του τάξη
θ' αντιληφθείς, χυμώδη, κρυσταλλώδη.

Θυμούμαι ένα πρωινό του φθινοπώρου
και μια μαούνα μαύρη
απ' την πολυκαιρία στα νερά
στο μώλο ήταν δεμένη,
με πορτοκάλια φορτωμένη χαρωπά,
ανάκατα ριγμένα, άφθονα,
φερμένα από ηλιόλουστα ακρογιάλια και νησιά.

Στον κόλπο της Θεσσαλονίκης
η θάλασσά μας ήταν τη μέρα εκείνη,
πράσινη και σταχτιά, ακίνητη βαριά,
όμως τα πορτοκάλια μέναν νικηφόρα
και νεανικά.

Alan Parsons Project - Same Old Sun

Ο Einstein είπε VII

“Logic will get you from A to B.
Imagination will take you everywhere.”

Albert Einstein

Old & Wise - Alan Parsons Project

time

τι όμορφη που είσαι όταν κλαις

The second you sleep - Saybia

Πες μου μιά λέξη

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

T.S. Eliot

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

T.S. Eliot

Νοσταλγία του παρόντος

Ετούτη τη στιγμή ακριβώς που λέει από μέσα του:
Και τι δεν θα' δινα γιά να'χω τη χαρά
να βρισκόμουνα πλάι σου στην Ισλανδία
στο φως της μεγάλης ακίνητης μέρας
και να μοιραζόμαστε τούτη τη στιγμή
-όπως μοιράζεται κανείς τη μουσική-
ή τη γεύση ενός φρούτου-
εκείνη τη στιγμή ακριβώς
βρισκόταν πλάι της στην Ισλανδία.

Χόρχες Λουίς Μπόρχες
μετάφραση Δημήτρη Καλοκύρη

O Einstein είπε VI

Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one.

η πληροφορία και τα φωτόνια

cascades - Robert Fred

Regarde au loin, ces montagnes couvertes,
nuages et courants, tourments les accaparent.
regarde, devant, la pluie, l'orage et l'arc-en-ciel,
tes pas les accompagnent, c'est toi le voyageur.

Life is fine - Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn't a-been so cold
I might've sunk and died.

 But it was      Cold in that water!      It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn't a-been so high
I might've jumped and died.

 But it was      High up there!      It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',
I guess I will live on.
I could've died for love--
But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry--
I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

 Life is fine!      Fine as wine!      Life is fine!

Falling in love you remain a child; rising in love you mature. By and by love becomes not a relationship, it becomes a state of your being. Not that you are in love - now you are love.

Letter in November - Sylvia Plath

Love, the world
Suddenly turns, turns color. The streetlight
Splits through the rat's tail
Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning.
It is the Arctic,

This little black
Circle, with its tawn silk grasses - babies hair.
There is a green in the air,
Soft, delectable.
It cushions me lovingly.

I am flushed and warm.
I think I may be enormous,
I am so stupidly happy,
My Wellingtons
Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.

This is my property.
Two times a day
I pace it, sniffing
The barbarous holly with its viridian
Scallops, pure iron,

And the wall of the odd corpses.
I love them.
I love them like history.
The apples are golden,
Imagine it ----

My seventy trees
Holding their gold-ruddy balls
In a thick gray death-soup,
Their million
Gold leaves metal and breathless.

O love, O celibate.
Nobody but me
Walks the waist high wet.
The irreplaceable
Golds bleed and deepen, the mouths of Thermopylae.

You light up my life - Debbie Boone

Κάποια στιγμή θα χαμογέλασες - Τίτος Πατρίκιος

The Negro Speaks of Rivers - Langston Hughes

I've known rivers:

I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the

flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I danced in the Nile when I was old

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy

bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

suicide's note - Langston Hughes

The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.

"Δεν αγαπώ τον κόσμο μέσα στον οποίο τελευτώ...το ανθρώπινο είδος--λόγω του πλήθους του--ζει μία κατάσταση εσωτερικής δηλητηρίασης...πολλά είδη εξαφανίζονται απ' αυτές τις τόσο τρομακτικές απερημώσεις"

Claude Levi-Strauss

Bryan Adams

Straight from the heart



Everything I do, I do it for you

Enya - Evening Falls

When the evening falls and the daylight is fading,
from within me calls - could it be I am sleeping?
For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely.
close to home - I cannot say.
close to home feeling so far away.

As I walk there before me a shadow
from another world, where no other can follow.
carry me to my own, to where I can cross over...
close to home - I cannot say.
close to home feeling so far away.

Forever searching; never right, I am lost
in oceans of night. Forever
hoping I can find memories.
those memories I left behind.

Even though I leave will I go on believing
that this time is real - am I lost in this feeling?
like a child passing through, never knowing the reason.
I am home - I know the way.
I am home - feeling oh, so far away.

“We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.”
Buddha

Φύγαν τα μάτια μας αλλά προπορεύονταν οι ψυχές μας
Στην συνάντηση τους μες στους ουρανούς
Ελαμψε καθαρή στιγμή
Τρεμούλιασμα εναγώνιο
Το πιστό καθρέφτισμα των σωθικών μας

Πιό ψηλά
Στην ενωμένη μοναξιά των άστρων της
Θρονιάζεται η Γαλήνη

Γιατί την απολλάξαμε από το κορμί μας
Γιατί την εξαντλήσαμε απο τις ελπίδες μας
Γιατί της φέραμε τάμα την Ιδέα μας

Ξαναγεννάει αισθήματα.

Οδυσσέας Ελύτης - Προσανατολισμοί

Se stiamo insieme - Ricardo Cocciante

Mai più come te - Claudio Baglioni

la licorne captive

Από το βιβλίο “Πείνα και Δίψα” του Χρήστου Γιανναρά

[Απόσπασμα από το “H πείνα και η δίψα του ανθρώπου”, του βιβλίου “Πείνα και Δίψα” του Χρήστου Γιανναρά, σελ. 11-18]:


«Η δίψα του απόλυτου είναι ένα δεύτερο πάθος. “Βλέπεις, θέλω πολλά, ίσως τα θέλω όλα”, έγραφε ο ποιητής. Μα όχι “ίσως”. Εμείς τα θέλουμε όλα. Η ζωή είναι λίγη, όχι χρονικά λίγη, όσο ποιοτικά και ποσοτικά. Είναι τόση μόνο, όσο για να ξυπνάει μέσα μας μια βαθειά, ακόρεστη δίψα. Ό,τι γευόμαστε σε τούτη τη ζωή δεν είναι παρά αρμυρό νερό που μεγαλώνει τη δίψα μας για ένταση και διάρκεια. Μόνο αυτή η λέξη μπορεί να αποδώσει ό,τι ίσαμε τούτη τη στιγμή έχουμε δοκιμάσει στη ζωή: Διψάμε. Ό,τι γευτήκαμε κι ό,τι γευόμαστε είναι λίγο, ασήμαντο, μηδαμινό, μπροστά σ’ αυτό που διψάμε. Κι η δίψα αυτή είναι η πιο βασανιστική, το πιο φοβερό μαρτύριο. Οι στιγμές είναι ελάχιστες που η καρδιά ξεδιψάει για ζωή, το νερό κελαρύζει ελάχιστες στιγμές και μετά στερεύει κι η καρδιά μένει εκεί σκυμμένη καρτερώντας… πιο διψασμένη ύστερα απ’ αυτές τις στιγμές, πιο αχόρταστη, με τα χείλη ανοιχτά και ξεραμένα απ’ τη νοσταλγία.

Τι διψάμε; Διψάμε ένταση, διάρκεια, ποικιλία. Διψάμε το αδιάκοπα καινούργιο. Λαχταράμε τον ίλιγγο της πτώσης, της απροσμέτρητης πτώσης, αλλά και το φτερούγισμα της ανόδου. Κάθε τι ακραίο μας ηλεκτρίζει. Η γη είναι στενή, η ζωή φθαρμένη μέσα στα σχήματα. Ασφυκτιούμε μέσα στα δεσμά του τόπου, του χρόνου και των αισθήσεων. Μέσα μας υπάρχει ένας χώρος χωρίς έκταση, η ανάγκη για μια απόλυτη διάρκεια κι η λαχτάρα για μια χωρίς όρια απόλαυση.

Τα θέλουμε όλα, κι αυτό είναι το πιο βασανιστικό πάθος μεσ’ στη ζωή».

The Beatles - The Long And Winding Road

Ella Fitzgerald - All the Things You Are

Το καθαρότερο πράγμα της δημιουργίας - Νικηφόρος Βρεττάκος

Δεν ξέρω, μα δεν είμεινε καθόλου σκοτάδι.
Ο ήλιος χύθηκε μέσα μου από χίλιες πληγές.
Και τούτη η λευκότητα που σε περιβάλλω
δεν θα τη βρεις ούτε στις Αλπεις, γιατί αυτός ο αγέρας
στριφογυρνά ως εκεί ψηλά και το χιόνι λερώνεται.
Και στο λευκό τριαντάφυλλο βρίσκεις μιά ιδέα σκόνης.
Το τέλειο θαύμα θα το βρεις μοναχά μες στον άνθρωπο:
λευκές εκτάσεις που ακτινοβολούν αληθινά
στο σύμπαν και υπερέχουν. Το πιό καθαρό
πράγμα λοιπόν της δημιουργίας δεν είναι το λυκόφως
ούτε ο ουρανός που καθρεφτίζεται μες στο ποτάμι
ούτε ο ήλιος πάνω στης μηλιάς τ' άνθη.
Είναι η αγάπη.

Jimmy Cliff - Reggae Night

Jimmy Cliff - I can see clearly now

Many rivers to cross - Jimmy Cliff

Μία Αναπνοή

Η προσευχή δεν είναι τίποτα άλλο παρά η εισπνοή και η εκπνοή της μίας και μοναδικής αναπνοής του Σύμπαντος.

St. Hildegard of Bingen

Cercami - Mina

πιάνο βυθού - Γιάννης Βαρβέρης

Gloria Gaynor - I Am What I Am

Να με προσέχεις