Pablo Picasso, Old guitarist, 1903 It begins, the lament of the guitar. The wineglass of dawn is broken. It begins, the lament of the guitar. It’s useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It cries monotonously as the water cries, as the wind cries over the snow. Impossible to silence it. It cries for …
Federico Garcia Lorca – La chitarra / The guitar Read More »
Julius von Klever, Little red riding hood, 1908 Through the indecisive branches went a girl who was life. Through the indecisive branches. She reflected daylight, with a tiny mirror, which was the splendour, of her unclouded forehead. Through the indecisive branches. In the dark of night, lost, she wandered, weeping the dew, of this imprisoned …
Federico Garcia Lorca – Prigioniera / The prisoner Read More »
George de Forest Brush, The Indian and the lily, 1887 My heart rests, by the cold fountain. (Fill it with threads, spider of silence.) The fountain-water sang it the song. (Fill it with threads, spider of silence.) My heart, waking, sang its desires. (Spider of nothingness, spin your mystery.) The fountain-water listened sombrely. (Spider of …
William Stott of Oldham, The Birth of Venus, 1887 That which travelsclouds itself.The running watercan see no stars.That which travelsforgets itself.And that which halts itselfdreams. Colui che camminasi confonde.L’acqua correntenon vede le stelle.Colui che camminasi dimentica.E chi si fermasogna. Go back to album – F. G. Lorca
Arnold Böcklin, Odysseus und Kalypso, 1883 From the cellar issue great sobs. (The purple above the red.) The gypsy evokes distant countries. (High towers and men of mystery.) On his faltering voice his eyes travel. (The black above the red.) And the whitewashed cellar trembles in gold. (The white above the red.) Dalla grotta si …
Frida Kahlo, The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Myself, Diego, and Señor Xolotl, 1949 Seven hearts I hold. But mine does not encounter them. In the high mountains, mother, the wind and I ran into each other. Seven young girls with long fingers carried me on their mirrors. I have sung through …
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