Photograph by Peter Beard
Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror
"Even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane,
The sighing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind,
Longing to be free, outside, but it must stay
Posing in this place. It must move
As little as possible. This is what the portrait says.
But there is in that gaze a combination
Of tenderness, amusement and regret, so powerful
In its restraint that one cannot look for long.
The secret is too plain. The pity of it smarts,
Makes hot tears spurt: that the soul is not a soul,
Has no secret, is small, and it fits
Its hollow perfectly: its room, our moment of attention.
That is the tune but there are no words."
"Even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane,
The sighing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind,
Longing to be free, outside, but it must stay
Posing in this place. It must move
As little as possible. This is what the portrait says.
But there is in that gaze a combination
Of tenderness, amusement and regret, so powerful
In its restraint that one cannot look for long.
The secret is too plain. The pity of it smarts,
Makes hot tears spurt: that the soul is not a soul,
Has no secret, is small, and it fits
Its hollow perfectly: its room, our moment of attention.
That is the tune but there are no words."
- John Ashbery
3 comments:
As usual, you gift me with soft feelings, Diane. And a somehow consuming but sweet melancony holds my heart... The portait is magic: it seems the picture of a soul! The words are not an useful tool to explain clearly what this post suggests to my mind...
I can just thank you for your sensitivity and for your magic art. :)
Hugs ;)
"so powerful
In its restraint "
I love this poem, what a perfect match for the amazingly powerful photograph, you are magical dear Diane
You are both wonderful...thank you for your words!!!
Post a Comment