Song Unsung
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The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set ;
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
The blossom has not opened ; only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice ;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.
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from -my new favorite- GITANJALI, R. Tagore
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güzeldim de galiba bunu nasıl söylesem:
eline sağlık Tanrım leyla çok güzel olmuş
Tanrım eline sağlık dünya da çok güzel olmuş
keşke biraz ölmesem.
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Bir Ki Deneme , İbrahim Tenekeci
Sometimes you simply get lucky.
A crane, sitting right in front of me in Hyde Park, London.
” What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart.
That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion.”
“Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me.”
Vincent van Gogh
This one is for Srebrenica.
The National Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Sarajevo.
1.5 million volumes and over 155,000 rare books were completely destroyed in 1992, during the Siege of Sarajevo.
Photographs are from a couple of years ago… There was an installation about the massacre at the Library in ruins; a timber boat full of old shoes and a portrait of him looking right into your eyes… And it was all very very quiet…
