Jackson Pollock, Eyes in the Heat, 1946Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:
For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXIII
3 comentários:
Mine eye is fixed on pictures through the air
Of cowboy hats or tilted smiling waves,
Of strength to carry boulders nearly bare,
Exchanging notes ‘til nights turn into days.
But pictures turn once more to solid form
In haven new to both, while Fall’s still warm
you are not anonymous Mr!
That's really pretty! I didn't know you were a poet too... piling up :-)
I’m known to you alone, to those you know
I am, for now, Mr. Anonimo
(You would learn more, and quickly pile on high,
if meter would accommodate each try.)
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