Freedom

 

"..I arrive from beneath roots of carnivorous trees,
And my mind is still filled -with the fearful cries of dried butterflies-
under weighty volumes of pale, aged books.

When my trust was hung-
from the frail justice line of this town,
And in the streets, they were cutting off the head of my torch,
When they blind-folded the innocent eyes of my love,
When fresh blood erupted from all veins of my shaking dreams,
And when my life was nothing-
but the regular chant of a Grandfather clock,
I realized that I had to love,
I had to love madly. ... "


Excerpted from "Windows" by Iranian poet  Forough Farrokhzad
  (1935-1967)


There are various translations of this poem from the original Persian writings and various interpretations of the words and intents. Translations are tricky, as anyone trying to  interpret Aramaic into English (for the Bible) would probably attest.

My contribution to poetry month, this April.

http://www.forughfarrokhzad.org/collectedworks/collectedworks4.htm

Interfaces

I am not sure what it is about images showing activity to no obvious intent or result, needing some sort of explaination.  Posing for imaginary purpose known only to they who put it together.  Open to interpretation, or needing no interpretation at all ,maybe.

Playing violin on the light?   No need for metaphor, just a happening; you would do the same were you her, and could play violin.
















Solar Music by Remidios Varo Spanish surrealist.
1908-1963