December 18, 2011
Shakyamuni Coming Down from the Mountains (Shih-chia ch’u-shan)
artist unknown Southern Sung Dynasty
Since entering the mountain, 
too  dried out and emaciated 
Frosty cold over the snow 
After having a  twinkling of revelation 
with impassioned eyes 
Why then do you want 
to  come back to the world?

Shakyamuni Coming Down from the Mountains (Shih-chia ch’u-shan)

artist unknown Southern Sung Dynasty

Since entering the mountain,

too dried out and emaciated

Frosty cold over the snow

After having a twinkling of revelation

with impassioned eyes

Why then do you want

to come back to the world?

December 16, 2011

I don’t know what you smoke
Or countries you been to
If you speak any other languages
Other than your own, I’d like to meet you

I don’t know if you drive
If you love the ground beneath you
I don’t know if you write letters or you panic on the phone
I’d like to call you all the same,
If you want to
I am game

I don’t know if you can swim
If the sea is any draw for you
If your better in the morning or when the sun goes down
I’d like to call you

I don’t know if you can dance
If the thought ever occurred to you
If you eat what you’ve been given or you push it around your plate
I’d like to cook for you all the same
I would want to
I am game

If you walk my way, I could keep my head
We could creep away
In the dark
Or maybe now
We could shoot it down anyway

I don’t know if you read novels or the magazines
If you love the hand that feeds you
I assume that your heart’s been bruised
I’d like to know you

You don’t know if I can draw at all
Or what records I am into
If I sleep like a spoon or rarely at all
Or maybe you would do
Or maybe you would do

If you walk my way, I will keep my head
We will feel our way through the dark
Though I don’t know you
I think that I would do
I don’t fall easy at all
At all at all at all at all

If you walk my way, I will keep my head
We will feel our way through the dark
Though I don’t know you
I think that I would do
I don’t fall easy at all

Lisa Hannigan - I Don’t Know 


(Source: youtube.com)

December 16, 2011
Bada Shanren (八大山人)

Bada Shanren (八大山人)

December 16, 2011
If you have time to chatterRead booksIf you have time to readWalk into mountain, desert and oceanIf you have time to walkSing Songs and danceIf you have time to danceSit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot
—Nanao Sakaki

If you have time to chatter
Read books
If you have time to read
Walk into mountain, desert and ocean
If you have time to walk
Sing Songs and dance
If you have time to dance
Sit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot

—Nanao Sakaki

10:45am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZI1kTyDL5sfD
  
Filed under: shitao painting poetry 
December 16, 2011
                                                                  Sonnet IX: There where the waves shatter

There where the waves shatter on the restless rocksthe clear light bursts and enacts its rose,and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,to one drop of blue salt, falling.O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,magnetic transient whose death bloomsand vanishes—being, nothingness—forever:broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence,while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,galloping water, incessant sand,we make the only permanent tenderness.                                                                      Pablo Neruda

  Sonnet IX: There where the waves shatter


There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks
the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,
and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,
to one drop of blue salt, falling.

O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,
magnetic transient whose death blooms
and vanishes—being, nothingness—forever:
broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.

You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence,
while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,
collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:

because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,
galloping water, incessant sand,
we make the only permanent tenderness.


Pablo Neruda

7:17am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZI1kTyDKnEoA
  
Filed under: poetry painting neruda 
December 15, 2011
不及林间自在啼Not As Good As Singing Freely
by Xi Ding

不及林间自在啼
Not As Good As
Singing Freely

by Xi Ding

December 14, 2011

KAGEMU - BLACK SUN -


Black Sun is a meticulously choreographed projection of motiongraphics onto dance, combining traditional and modern elements of Japanese culture and martial arts. Artist Nobuyuki Hanabusa and dancer Katsumi Sakakura, together known as Kagemu, have since been widely imitated by others, including Beyoncé.

December 14, 2011

He was silent for a moment. Silence seemed to have fallen upon the world. “That is what I have felt since I knew you” he replied. “We are happy together”. He did not seem to be speaking, or she to be hearing. “Very happy”, she answered. They continued to walk for some time in silence. Their steps unconsciously quickened. “We love each other”, he said. “We love each other”, she repeated. The silence was then broken by their voices which joined in tones of strange unfamiliar sound which formed no words. Faster and faster they walked; simultaneously they stopped, clasped each other in their arms, then releasing themselves, dropped to the earth.  “We love each other” he repeated, searching into her face. Their faces were both very pale and quiet, and they said nothing.

The Voyage Out (1915), Virginia Woolf

1:57pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZI1kTyDFtvo1
  
Filed under: writers writing painting 
December 14, 2011
Retrato de Toulouse-Lautrec vestido de Jane Avril, ca.1892


The Well Dressed Man with the Beard
After the final no there comes a yesAnd on that yes the future world depends.No was the night. Yes is this present sun.If the rejected things, the things denied,Slid over the western cataract, yet one,One only, one thing that was firm, evenNo greater than a cricket’s horn, no moreThan a thought to be rehearsed all day, a speechOf the self that must sustain itself on speech,One thing remaining, infallible, would beEnough. Ah! douce campagna of that thing!Ah! douce campagna, honey in the heart,Green in the body, out of a petty phrase,Out of a thing believed, a thing affirmed:The form on the pillow humming while one sleeps,The aureole above the humming house…It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.                                                                      Wallace Stevens

Retrato de Toulouse-Lautrec vestido de Jane Avril, ca.1892

The Well Dressed Man with the Beard

After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
Slid over the western cataract, yet one,
One only, one thing that was firm, even
No greater than a cricket’s horn, no more
Than a thought to be rehearsed all day, a speech
Of the self that must sustain itself on speech,
One thing remaining, infallible, would be
Enough. Ah! douce campagna of that thing!
Ah! douce campagna, honey in the heart,
Green in the body, out of a petty phrase,
Out of a thing believed, a thing affirmed:
The form on the pillow humming while one sleeps,
The aureole above the humming house…
It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.


Wallace Stevens

December 13, 2011
The Thatched Hut at Liangchang
Huang Gongwang  , (Chinese,  1269-1354)



Mêng Hao-jan

True-Taoist, good friend Mêng,Your madness known to one and all,Young you laughed at rank and power.Now you sleep in pine-tree clouds.On moonlit nights floored by the Dragon.In magic blossom deaf to the World.You rise above - a hill so high.I drink the fragrance from afar.                                                                      Li Po

The Thatched Hut at Liangchang
Huang Gongwang , (Chinese, 1269-1354)

Mêng Hao-jan

True-Taoist, good friend Mêng,
Your madness known to one and all,
Young you laughed at rank and power.
Now you sleep in pine-tree clouds.
On moonlit nights floored by the Dragon.
In magic blossom deaf to the World.
You rise above - a hill so high.
I drink the fragrance from afar.


Li Po