"Gran Cavallo"

When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

~William Shakespeare, Henry V

This is the Gran Cavallo, Leonardo da Vinci's horse. Realized only on paper, da Vinci never had the opportunity to see it completed. In 1999, the horse was created in Milan and then in the United States. It stands 24 feet tall. This is the "American" horse.

Sanar

To Heal

Tears rise up to the sky
and return to your eyes from the sea

time goes away goes away and doesn’t return

and your heart is going to heal

going to heal

going to heal

The earth appears to be still

and the sun appears to turn,

and although it might seem like a lie

your heart is going to heal

going to heal

going to heal

and it’s going to be broken again

as long as it’s reminded to beat

and no one knows why one day love is born

no one knows why one day love dies

it’s because no one is born knowing

that to die, is also the law of life.

And just like when the weather turns cold

the birds will leave in flocks again

your heart is going to heal

is going to heal

is going to heal

and you will be hopeful again

and soon you will also despair when you least expect it

your heart is going to heal

is going to heal
is going to heal

and it’s going to be broken again
as long as it’s reminded to beat

Jorge Drexler

Trees

Here is a view from outside my house, where the branches of two trees merge. Taken as the sun began to set, it has an interesting glow about it. A very quiet and romantic image, I think.

Sonnet XXV

Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own: I wavered through the streets, among objects: nothing mattered or had a name: the world was made of air, which waited.

I knew rooms full of ashes, tunnels where the moon lived, rough warehouses that growled 'get lost', questions that insisted in the sand.

Everything was empty, dead, mute, fallen abandoned, and decayed: inconceivably alien, it all belonged to someone else - to no one: till your beauty and your poverty filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.

Pablo Neruda

Romansky

This picture was taken in Prague, July 2007. Studying music in Plzeň, I took a bus to Prague and toured the city. As we were walking up the path to the castle (overlooking the Vltava), this man was playing waltzes. Looks like he just got out of work. It's a curious new age view of street musicians, as he has a cell phone on his hip and a brief case open on the cobblestone.


for everybody

I can't tell you quickly
What I ought to tell you,
Say man, pardon me, you'll know
That even though you don't listen to my words
I never took time off to weep or sleep
And that I've been with you when I couldn't see you
For a long time and I'll be there till the end.

I understand that many people are thinking,
"Say, what's Pablo doing?" I'm here.
If you look for me on this street
You'll find me with my violin
Ready to sing
And to die.

It's nobody's problem
Not for them, nor for you,
And if you listen well, in the rain,
You will be able to hear
That I come back and go away and stay.
And you'll know when I must leave.

If my words aren't heard
Don't doubt that I'm the one I was.
There is no silence that doesn't end.
When the moment arrives, wait for me,
And let everyone know that I'm coming
To the street, with my violin.

pablo neruda