One of the great all-time songwriters - Irving Berlin: May 11, 1888 - 1989 (that was a cool 101!)
(via projectionofme)
Das ist genau die richtige Haltung, um einen Song zu beginnen. Die Hookline liegt ihm schon fast auf der Zunge, aber dann kommt sie von noch woanders her. Es spielt in ihm.
29
8»lied vom kindsein« by peter handke
When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging.
It wanted the stream to be a river
the river a torrent
and this puddle to be the sea.When the child was a child
It didn’t know it was a child.
Everything was full of life,
and all life was one.When the child was a child
It had no opinions about anything.
It had no habits.
It sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair
and didn’t make a face when photographed.When the child was a child
it was the time of these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Isn’t life under the sun just a dream?
Isn’t what I see, hear and smell
only the illusion of a world before the world?
Does evil actually exist,
and are there people who are really evil?
How can it be that I, who am I,
didn’t exist before I came to be
and that someday
the one who I am
will no longer be the one I am?When the child was a child
it choked on spinach, peas, rice pudding
and on steamed cauliflower.
Now it eats all of those
and not just because it has to.When the child was a child
it once woke up in a strange bed
and now it does so time and time again.
Many people seemed beautiful then
and now only a few, if it’s lucky.
It had a precise picture of Paradise
and now it can only guess at it.
It could not conceive of nothingness
and today it shudders at the idea.When the child was a child
it played with enthusiasm
and now
it gets equally excited
but only when it concerns
its work.When the child was a child
berries fell into its hand as only berries do
and they still do now.
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw
and they still do now.
On every mountaintop it had a longing
for yet a higher mountain.
And in each city it had a longing
for yet a bigger city.
And it is still that way.
It reached for the cherries in the treetop
with the elation it still feels today.
It was shy with all strangers
and it still is.
It awaited the first snow
and it still waits that way.When the child was a child
it threw a stick into a tree like a lance,
and it still quivers there today.
(via visual-poetry)
In dieser Szene streicht unablässig ein Wind durchs Bild. Der scheint nicht künstlich zu sein, nicht von einer Windmaschine zu stammen. Erst dieses sichtbare Wehen des unsichtbaren Winds macht diese Szene so lebendig … eine ganz seltene Stimmung zwischen heiter in der Gegenwart und melancholisch in der Erinnerung. Vielleicht kommt der Wind aber doch von einer Windmaschine? Dann wäre die Szene natürlich wirklich genial.
Out of the land of shadows and darkness, we were returning towards the morning light
Almost in reach of places I knew escaping the ghosts of yesterday
You were behind me following closely don’t turn around I heard you whisper in my ear
If you should turn now, all that you won will vanish just like a passing dream.
Just on the very verge of the morning, daylight was dawning, freedom was but a step away
Now with the deep dark river behind us, what could go wrong if I stayed strong in mind.
What was the sudden lapse into madness, what was the urge that turned my head around to look at you?
What was the stubborn will to destroy the love and the joy I nearly held?
three times the thunder roared in my ears in all of my years I’ll see that lost
look in your eyes.
As, with a sigh like smoke in the wind you slipped from my grasp into the waiting shadows so much I longed to say,
but my touch found only the empty air and a black nights coldness.
lnto another world you entered And never again I can reclaim you.
