Madredeus ,O sonho

Lisbon Story , Wim Wenders

Madredeus ,Silencio

Madredeus , Guitarra

NA LINGUI YO ,STAFF BENDA BILILI

Staff Benda Bilili , Auramandole

EXCERPT FROM BENDA BILILI DOCUMENTARY about musical band from Kinshasa

Antony & The Johnsons ,The Guests (Live BBC4 2006)

"The Guests", Leonard Cohen

One by one, the guests arrive 
The guests are coming through 
The open-hearted many 
The broken-hearted few 
And no one knows where the night is going 
And no one knows why the wine is flowing 
Oh love I need you 
I need you 
I need you 
I need you 
Oh . . . I need you now 

And those who dance, begin to dance 
Those who weep begin 
And "Welcome, welcome" cries a voice 
"Let all my guests come in." 

And no one knows where the night is going ... 

And all go stumbling through that house 
in lonely secrecy 
Saying "Do reveal yourself" 
or "Why has thou forsaken me?" 

And no one knows where the night is going ... 

All at once the torches flare 
The inner door flies open 
One by one they enter there 
In every style of passion 

And no one knows where the night is going ... 

And here they take their sweet repast 
While house and grounds dissolve 
And one by one the guests are cast 
Beyond the garden wall 

And no one knows where the night is going ... 

Those who dance, begin to dance 
Those who weep begin 
Those who earnestly are lost 
Are lost and lost again 

And no one knows where the night is going ... 

One by the guests arrive 
The guests are coming through 
The broken-hearted many 
The open-hearted few 

And no one knows where the night is going ..

Hermandad, Octavio Paz

Soy hombre: duro poco 
y es enorme la noche. 
Pero miro hacia arriba: 
las estrellas escriben. 
Sin entender comprendo: 
también soy escritura 
y en este mismo instante 
alguien me deletrea.

my rainforest today

quote, Thich Nhat Hanh, "interbeing"

"A flower cannot be by herself alone. A flower can only inter-be with all of us… Humans are like this too. We can’t exist by ourselves alone. We can only inter-be. "

quote, Thich Nhat Hanh, "How to love"
https://www.brainpickings.org/2015/03/31/how-to-love-thich-nhat-hanh/

the incident of an island in the rain

yesterday
driving through clouds,
brakes screeching
i found an island

in the waters around
and i met her eye,
she stood
very near

i wanted to call
but the rain
swallowed
my voice

then she was gone,
walking maybe
towards the sun

now rain all night,
waking up with rain,
drumming, i listened,
she told me to fly

and the sun comes out
following a smile
which came into me
as from nowhere
but from her.

wind moves the leaves,
green, light,
there is blue in the sky
and a smile inside.

Ocavio Paz, In her splendour islanded

Octavio Paz, Wind,Water,Stone

Wind, Water, Stone

Related Poem Content Details

BY Ocavio Paz

TRANSLATED BY  Eliot Weinberger

for Roger Caillois

Water hollows stone,

wind scatters water,

stone stops the wind.

Water, wind, stone.

Wind carves stone,

stone's a cup of water,

water escapes and is wind.

Stone, wind, water.

Wind sings in its whirling,

water murmurs going by,

unmoving stone keeps still.

Wind, water, stone.

Each is another and no other:

crossing and vanishing

through their empty names:

water, stone, wind.

The Art of Unselfing, Safiya Sinclair

The Art of Unselfing

Related Poem Content Details

BY SAFIYA SINCLAIR

The mind’s black kettle hisses its wild

exigencies at every turn: The hour before the coffee

                               and the hour after.

Penscratch of the gone morning, woman

a pitched hysteria watching the mad-ant scramble,

                               her small wants devouring.

Her binge and skin-thrall.

Her old selves being shuffled off into labyrinths,

                               this birdless sky a longing.

Her moth-mouth rabble unfacing

touch-and-go months under winter, torn letters

                               under floorboards,

each fickle moon pecked through with doubt.

And one spoiled onion. Pale Cyclops

                               on her kitchen counter

now sprouting green missives,

some act of contrition; neighbor-god’s vacuum

                               a loud rule thrown down.

Her mother now on the line saying too much.

This island is not a martyr. You tinker too much

                               with each gaunt memory, your youth

and its unweeding. Not everything blooms here

a private history — consider this immutable. Consider

                               our galloping sun, its life.

Your starved homesickness. The paper wasp kingdom

you set fire to, watched for days until it burnt a city in you.

                               Until a family your hands could not save

became the hurricane. How love is still unrooting you.

And how to grow a new body — to let each word be the wild rain

                               swallowed pure like an antidote.

Her mother at the airport saying don’t come back.

Love your landlocked city. Money. Buy a coat.

                               And even exile can be glamorous.

Some nights she calls across the deaf ocean to no one

in particular. No answer. Her heart’s double-vault

                               a muted hydra.

                               This hour a purge

of  its own unselfing.

                               She must make a home of it.

Fearing not that I'd become my enemy in the instant that I preach, B. Dylan

Crimson flames tied through my ears, rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I, proud 'neath heated brow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth, "rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skull, I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

Girls' faces formed the forward path from phony jealousy
To memorizing politics of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists, unthought of, though somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then. I'm younger than that now

A self-ordained professor's tongue too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word as if a wedding vow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand at the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy in the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats, mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then I'm younger than that now

Ladysmith Black Mambazo - Nomathemba ( Mother Of Hope ) live