vendredi 1 novembre 2019

Especially the Bridle

It seems there is an urge for realism
To admire things depicted looking true.
I would that art’s effectual truism
Made things so thin that life shone merely through.

If mine were not intolerably real
There might glow some hope through it in its joy;
I’d rather feel an urge for haze to feel
At last myself, a small receptive boy.

And should it simply be indifference
That gives the outer world its power and glaze:
The light shed over, ruthless, age-old, tense
A varnish wall impossible to raze

No matter if my days froze into nights
Would keep my trust in telling wrongs from rights.

October 29, 2019

[Emblematic Still Life with Flagon, Jug, Glass and Bridle. Johannes Torrentius, 1614]

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