Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts

Friday, September 21, 2012

'InThoughts' and I dreamed this dream and I still dream of it ~ Tarkoysky

Florian Imgrund, InThoughts 

I dreamed this dream and I still dream of it
and I will dream of it sometime again.
Everything repeats itself 
and everything will be reincarnated,
and my dreams will be your dreams.

Florian Imgrund, InThoughts - Nature
There, to one side of us, to one side of the world
wave after wave breaks on the shore:
there's a star on the wave, and a man, and a bird,
reality and dreams and death - wave after wave.

Florian Imgrund, InThoughts - Nature
Dates are irrelevant. I was, I am, I will be.
Life is a miracle of miracles, and I kneel
before the miracle alone like an orphan,
alone in the mirrors, enclosed in reflections,
seas and towns, shining brightly through the smoke.

Florian Imgrund, InThoughts - Nature

A mother cries and takes her baby on her knee.

Florian Imgrund, InThoughts


~ Poetry by Arseny Tarkovsky
translated by Richard McKane, taken from 99 Poems in Translation: An anthology, eds, Harold Pinter, Anthony Astbury and Geoffrey Godbert, London, faber and faber, Greville Press, 1994
~ Artwork by Florian Imgrund

Artist Statement, Florian Imgrund, "The unique charm of analog photographs connected with the original handcraft of photography fascinates me. After I got my first analog camera in summer of 2010 I started shooting more and more. This growing portfolio is the result of my passion. All of these photographs are captured on film, self developed and without any computer manipulation. I hope you‘ll enjoy it."

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Indian Serenade


Lake of Longing, 2008, Veronica Atanacio

I arise from dreams of thee   
  In the first sweet sleep or night, 
When the winds are breathing low,   
  And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,   
  And a spirit in my feet 
Has led me- who knows how?  
  To thy chamber-window, sweet!  

The wandering airs they faint   
  On the dark, the silent stream-
The champak odors fail   
  Like sweet thoughts in a dream; 
The nightingale's complaint,   
  It dies upon her heart-
As I must die on thine,   
  Oh, beloved as thou art!  

Oh, lift me from the grass!   
  I die! I faint! I fail! 
Let thy love in kisses rain   
  On my lips and eyelids pale. 
My cheek is cold and white, alas!   
  My heart beats loud and fast-
Oh! press it close to thine own again,   
  Where it will break at last!

~by Percy Bysshe Shelley