The Bow and the Strings
How dark and heavy’s the delirium’s embrace!
How they’re turbid under moon – the heights!
To have touched Violin for so many years
And not distinguish those Strings in light!
Who craves for us? Who, insolent, has set
In flames two faces, yellow and vexed,
And suddenly the saddened Bow felt
That someone took them and forever merged.
‘How long ago it was – as in a dream –
Tell me trough dark: are you the same one, else?’…
And Strings pressed close, caressing, to him,
Ringing and tossing in their fond caress.
‘Is that all true, that it’s enough, God blessed,
That we shall never ever part again?
And poor Violin replied him always ‘yes’,
Though its heart was sinking in sharp pain.
Bow fell silent, understanding, then,
But poor Violin still echoed its complaint,
And what seemed music to the most men,
To both of them was everlasting pain.
The man didn’t blow, till the night was gone,
The candles … And the Strings were singing, yet…
And they were found, drained of strength, by sun
On the black velvet of the sleepless bed.
Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, January, 2001
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Bow and Strings
What heavy, dark delirium!
What dim and moonlit heights!
To touch the violin for years
And not to know the strings by light!
Who needs us now? And who lit up
Two hollow, melancholy faces...
And suddenly the bow felt
Someone take them up, unite them.
"How long it's been! Amidst this gloom
Just tell me this: are you still the same?"
The strings caressed the bow,
Rang out, caressed it slightly trembling.
"Is it not true, that we will never more
Be parted. It's enough..."
Yes, replied the violin,
But pain was throbbing in her heart.
The bow discerned it and grew mute,
The echo still continued in the violin...
What was a torture to them both
The people heard as music.
But the violinist didn't snuff
The candles out 'til dawn...The strings sang on...
The sun found them worn out
On the black velvet of their bed.
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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Violin
Four strings across the bridge,
Ready to carry me over,
Over the quavers, drunk in the bars,
Out of the realm of the orchestra,
Out of the realm of the orchestra.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Filling me up with the shivers and quivers.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Paganini up on the chimney,
Lord of the dance,
With nero and old nicky.
Whack that devil
Into my fiddlestick!
Give me the banshees for b.v.s,*
Give me the banshees for b.v.s.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-dee.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-diddle-dee-dee!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't let that horse
Don't let that horse
eat that violin
cried Chagall's mother
But he
kept right on
painting
And became famous
And kept on painting
The Horse With Violin In Mouth
And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin
And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across
And there were no strings
attached
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever.
quote by June Masters Bacher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Violin Love
Violin whisperer
Taming the wild beast
Sounds unearthly
Majestic notes surround
She closed her eyes
Swept away in a rush
Burst of emotion
Tears flowing
She says "Play me
I want to be your violin
Pluck my strings
Make me sing
Run your bow over me"
poem by Paul H Nelson
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Colors of Silence
Yellow roses swing in the wind
Lonely dogs bark but the wolves prevail
The violin strings snap, protesting
The aloofly silent mind of the nail.
Blue tulips pray with the bells
On the lake white triangles sail
The postman walks slowly, pondering
The silent somber red box of the mail.
Evening descends on the green hills
The trees are wincing along the grey tail
In the dense dark rests the black forest
The silence dreams it screams under a veil.
poem by Paul Hartal
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You And Me Making Music Together
i am a violin
play me with the gentleness
of your
disposition
you must hear
the sadness of my music
you are my guitar
i will strum your strings
it will not be sad
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without Your Love
Johnny lange / stryker
Without your love
Im like a song without words
Just like a nest without birds
Without your love
Fine sun above
Will never shine at my door
My life holds nothing in store
Without your love
I rode the crest of a wave
With you beside me
Now whos to guide me
Because Im lost at sea
Without your love
Im like a plane without wings
A violin with no strings
Without your love
Ive rode the crest of a wave
With you beside me
Now whos to guide me
Because Im lost at sea
Without your love
Im like a plane without wings
A violin with no strings
Without your love
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invisible Strings
(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A tent without a woman is like a violin with no strings.
I raise a Hallelujah every day Sonnet
As the bow dances gently on the strings,
a great Hallelujah is being born,
Sublime whispers land on the angels' wings,
far away, softly cries the old brass horn.
Many unseen choirs sing a song of praise,
A thankful heart is writing a poem,
God smiles from heaven through the warm sun rays,
I smile back, so happy that I know Him.
Amazing Grace resounds in the valley,
Never-ending echo of His blessings,
His Song I forever proudly carry,
The Song of Love on my violin strings.
I'll raise a Hallelujah every day,
as long as I will live and I can pray.
poem by Marius Alexandru (November 2022)
Submitted by anonym
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I was playing violin for a long time, about 6 years. It takes a while. You need very patient people in your house when you have a violin.
quote by Kevin Eubanks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From My Room
From my room I hear
The wind blow
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
The morning comes with night
And leaves with night
My heart is in dark
Like flickering light
Pounding on and on
Through to dreams gone
In the dark clouded sky
With beams of low sun flight
Time slowly passes by
With shadows left to right
From my room I hear
Where I now dwell
The dark voices near
Of iciness and its cartel
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
*Federico García Lorca once wrote:
“From my room I hear
The water jet
A finger of grapevine…”
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Song Of The Violin
SHE stood in the curtains played over by light —
The tinted curtains — a tired, sweet girl,
With exquisite arms under laces of white
Like an ivory figure in mother-of-pearl.
I entered; she saw me, but made no move;
To some I nodded, to some replied;
(A violin somewhere was singing of love)
She blushed and paled, and I stood at her side.
I asked for a dance — she shook her head
And laughed like a petted, petulant queen;
She had promised them all to others, she said,
'And you are so late — and where have you been?'
They were talking low in the long, bright room,
And I answered her, moving the blind aside —
'Out there on the lawn in the velvet gloom,
Wooing a woman to make her my bride.'
She suddenly shook like a startled dove;
Ruffled and paled and hung her head
(A violin somewhere was singing of love,
And bitter-sweet were the things it said).
'This heat is stifling!' — she moved away.
'Out here,' I whispered, 'and hark to the tide!'
'The woman — where is she?' I heard her say;
'Now show me the woman you wooed for a bride.'
'Here on the land — and there on the sea,
Her feet among roses, her head in the skies;
And now do you see her?' She whispered 'I see,'
Her hand on my shoulder, a laugh in her eyes.
'Do you love her — this lady so mystical, fine?
I dwindle before her, a plain little miss;
She has stars in her hair — only roses in mine;
But the Night has no heart, and the Night cannot kiss.'
'Not now, if you please, sir!' — a moment she strove —
The curve of my arm softly circled her head . . .
A violin somewhere was singing of love,
And sweet beyond all were the things it said.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Strumming The Strings Of My Heart
I watch you play,
Making a beautiful tune
The strings of the guitar shaking
As you sit in the light of the moon
Your plucking the strings
With great ease
Making a flowing melody
A pretty song, just for me
I continue to watch
You playing your guitar
Making me love you
While your strumming the strings of my heart
These strings will never be touched
By anyone but you
You go where no one else can
Leaving a mark, like a tattoo,
Saying I LOVE YOU
poem by Katniss Everdeen
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An Angel And A Violin
Thoroughly magically blended,
To caress my ears as intended,
Through beauty and soulful sounds,
In my defense it softly rebounds...
An angel and a classical violin,
The century's concerto begins,
Plays like one hundred and one,
A million stars around the sun...
Soothing my heart and mind,
Finally leaving sorrow behind,
By helping me forget the past,
Only the good memories last...
An angel with streaming hair,
A beauty that lovingly stares,
Sparkling eyes, baby soft skin,
She orchestrated sounds again...
Her unique heartbeat clearly cast,
A conductor's baton circles fast,
We awake from a too real dream,
To rise to the top as a stronger beings..
New York's Philharmonic Symphony,
Is where the angels play in harmony,
Her bow glides softly over the strings,
With a sound of tenderness she sings...
To wish but it is only about reality,
Poetically, God's only soul for me,
But, when I fail to fall asleep,
There is no angel behind the violin...
When the sun rises I go about my day,
Her melancholy glow guides the way,
Anxiously awaiting darkness to begin,
Lovely dreams the angel comes again...
Life manifests itself in different forms,
The one behind my thoughts and poems,
The one I saw vividly in my dream,
The angel behind the violin...
©All Rights Reserved-2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Strings Of Freedom
walk with me..
you and me, not separate
our poem is totality
and our poetry,
is all months,
from january..
to december.
walk with me..
where to decide
the strings of poetry
mixed with both,
the guitar's strings
and the strings..
of all seasons.
walk with me..
it's me, who guides
to all strings,
which said no
and refused to sleep
but refused not..
to dream.
walk with me..
i'm still to wait
for all strings,
walking in time
and resisting,
being jailed..
in the guitar.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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Tired
I am tired to-night, and something,
The wind maybe, or the rain,
Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside,
Has brought back the past and its pain.
And I feel as I sit here thinking,
That the hand of a dead old June
Has reached out hold of my heart’s loose strings,
And is drawing them up in tune.
I am tired to-night, and I miss you,
And long for you, love, through tears;
And it seems but to-day that I saw you go –
You, who have been gone for years.
And I seem to be newly lonely –
I, who am so much alone;
And the strings of my heart are well in tune,
But they have not the same old tone.
I am tired; and that old sorrow
Sweeps down the bed of my soul,
As a turbulent river might suddenly break
Away from a dam’s control.
It beareth a wreck on its bosom,
A wreck with a snow-white sail,
And the hand on my heart-strings thrums away,
But they only respond with a wail.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love Song
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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So
... and so I do love you so
limp-eyelid folding I
your hair stroking
violin lambs wool halo
duet yearning yawn
dawn this soon for suck
succumbing cumming
we
delicious daylight devouring
strings part pulling
fluid bodies we
string vibrant aureate
playing parts
our parts parting
strings attached stroking
violet viola visceral memory
copyright Randy Resh 2007
poem by Randy Resh
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