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luister
ik ben de profeet
van de herfst
het blad dat niet wil vallen
de twijfelende sneeuw
ik neem toe
toe tot in het duister
Messias van de winter
en loop over water
verlies in godsnaam je heldenmoed
Bert Bevers
luister
(Uit: De stilte voor de winter, Uitgeverij WEL, Bergen op Zoom, 1973)
Bert Bevers is dichter en schrijver. Hij woont en werkt in Antwerpen (Be)
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More in: 4SEASONS#Autumn, 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Bevers, Bert
Le Jardin des Tuileries
This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.
Sometimes about the painted kiosk
The mimic soldiers strut and stride,
Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide
In the bleak tangles of the bosk.
And sometimes, while the old nurse cons
Her book, they steal across the square,
And launch their paper navies where
Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.
And now in mimic flight they flee,
And now they rush, a boisterous band—
And, tiny hand on tiny hand,
Climb up the black and leafless tree.
Ah! cruel tree! if I were you,
And children climbed me, for their sake
Though it be winter I would break
Into spring blossoms white and blue!
Oscar Wilde
(1854- 1900)
Le Jardin des Tuileries
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive W-X, Archive W-X, FDM in Paris, Wilde, Oscar, Wilde, Oscar
I heard a Fly buzz
– when I died –
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air –
Between the Heaves of Storm –
The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset – when the King
Be witnessed – in the Room –
I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable – and then it was
There interposed a Fly –
With Blue – uncertain – stumbling Buzz –
Between the light – and me –
And then the Windows failed – and then
I could not see to see –
Emily Dickinson
(1830—1886)
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –
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More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily, Insects
To a Wreath of Snow
O transient voyager of heaven!
O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
To dungeons where a prisoner lies?
Methinks the hands that shut the sun
So sternly from this morning’s brow
Might still their rebel task have done
And checked a thing so frail as thou.
They would have done it had they known
The talisman that dwelt in thee,
For all the suns that ever shone
Have never been so kind to me!
For many a week, and many a day
My heart was weighed with sinking gloom
When morning rose in mourning grey
And faintly lit my prison room
But angel like, when I awoke,
Thy silvery form, so soft and fair
Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke
Of cloudy skies and mountains bare;
The dearest to a mountaineer
Who, all life long has loved the snow
That crowned his native summits drear,
Better, than greenest plains below.
And voiceless, soulless, messenger
Thy presence waked a thrilling tone
That comforts me while thou art here
And will sustain when thou art gone
Emily Brontë
(1818—1848)
To a Wreath of Snow
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Brontë, Anne, Emily & Charlotte
Snow
Look up…
From bleakening hills
Blows down the light, first breath
Of wintry wind…look up, and scent
The snow!
Adelaide Crapsey
(1878—1914)
Snow
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Crapsey, Adelaide
Old and New Year Ditties
New Year met me somewhat sad:
Old Year leaves me tired,
Stripped of favourite things I had
Baulked of much desired:
Yet farther on my road to-day
God willing, farther on my way.
New Year coming on apace
What have you to give me?
Bring you scathe, or bring you grace,
Face me with an honest face;
You shall not deceive me:
Be it good or ill, be it what you will,
It needs shall help me on my road,
My rugged way to heaven, please God…
Christina Rossetti
(1830-1894)
Old and New Year Ditties
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More in: *The Pre-Raphaelites Archive, 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive Q-R, Archive Q-R, Rossetti, Christina
Christmas Carol
The kings they came from out the south,
All dressed in ermine fine;
They bore Him gold and chrysoprase,
And gifts of precious wine.
The shepherds came from out the north,
Their coats were brown and old;
They brought Him little new-born lambs—
They had not any gold.
The wise men came from out the east,
And they were wrapped in white;
The star that led them all the way
Did glorify the night.
The angels came from heaven high,
And they were clad with wings;
And lo, they brought a joyful song
The host of heaven sings.
The kings they knocked upon the door,
The wise men entered in,
The shepherds followed after them
To hear the song begin.
The angels sang through all the night
Until the rising sun,
But little Jesus fell asleep
Before the song was done.
Sara Teasdale
(1884-1933)
Christmas Carol
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive S-T, Archive S-T, Teasdale, Sara
The Holy Night
We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem;
The dumb kine from their fodder turning them,
Softened their horned faces
To almost human gazes
Toward the newly Born:
The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks
Brought their visionary looks,
As yet in their astonished hearing rung
The strange sweet angel-tongue:
The magi of the East, in sandals worn,
Knelt reverent, sweeping round,
With long pale beards,
their gifts upon the ground,
The incense, myrrh, and gold
These baby hands were impotent to hold:
So let all earthlies and celestials wait
Upon thy royal state.
Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(1806-1861)
The Holy Night
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Barrett Browning, Elizabeth
Fall, leaves, fall
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
Emily Brontë
1818—1848
Fall, leaves, fall
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More in: 4SEASONS#Autumn, Anne, Emily & Charlotte Brontë, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Brontë, Anne, Emily & Charlotte
The Snow-Storm
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Come see the north wind’s masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
(1803 – 1882)
The Snow-Storm
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More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive E-F, Archive E-F, Emerson, Ralph Waldo
New Year’s Eve
There are only two things now,
The great black night scooped out
And this fire-glow.
This fire-glow, the core,
And we the two ripe pips
That are held in store.
Listen, the darkness rings
As it circulates round our fire.
Take off your things.
Your shoulders, your bruised throat!
Your breasts, your nakedness!
This fiery coat!
As the darkness flickers and dips,
As the fireflight falls and leaps
From your feet to your lips!
D. H. Lawrence
(1885 – 1930)
New Year’s Eve
•fleursdumal.nl magazine
December 31, 2024
More in: 4SEASONS#Winter, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, D.H. Lawrence, Lawrence, D.H.
LUSTWARANDE
2024
07.07 – 06.10.2024
A R B O S
hout in hedendaagse sculptuur
Park De Oude Warande Tilburg
14de editie Lustwarande over het gebruik van hout in de hedendaagse sculptuur. Hoe is het gesteld met hout in de hedendaagse sculptuur?
Er is sprake van een opmars van kunstenaars die hout toepassen in hun werk. Naast traditionele methodes, onderzoeken sommige kunstenaars computergestuurde wijzen van houtbewerking.
Deelnemende kunstenaars: Gerbrand Burger (NL) – Gesine Grundmann (DE) – Roman Gysin (CH) – Abul Hisham (IN) – Milda Lembertaitė (LT) – Bart Lunenburg (NL) – Henrique Oliveira (BR) – Maria Roosen (NL) – Elmo Vermijs (NL) – Tatiana Wolska (PL)
Lustwarande – Platform for Contemporary Sculpture
park De Oude Warande
Bredaseweg 441
Tilburg
T +31 (0)13 545 7573
info@lustwarande.org
https://www.lustwarande.org/
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More in: Art & Literature News, Exhibition Archive, FDM Art Gallery, Fundament - Lustwarande, Natural history, Sculpture
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