The Song Of The Blindman
I am blind, you out there -- that is a curse,
against one's will, a contradiction,
a heavy daily burden.
I lay my hand on the arm of my wife,
my grey hand upon her greyer grey,
as she guides me through empty spaces.
You move about and stir, and imagine
your sounds differing from stone to stone.
But you are mistaken: I alone
live and suffer and complain, for
in me is an endless crying,
and I do not know whether it is
my heart that cries or my bowels.
Do you recognize these songs? You never sang them,
not quite with this intonation.
For you every morning brings its new light
warm through your open windows.
And you have the feeling from face to face
that tempts you to be indulgent.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Related quotes
The Blindman's Song
I am blind, you outsiders. It is a curse,
a contradiction, a tiresome farce,
and every day I despair.
I put my hand on the arm of my wife
(colorless hand on colorless sleeve)
and she walks me through empty air.
You push and shove and think that you've been
sounding different from stone against stone,
but you are mistaken: I alone
live and suffer and howl.
In me there is an endless outcry
and I can't tell what's crying, whether its my
broken heart or my bowels.
Are the tunes familiar? You don't sing them like this:
how could you understand?
Each morning the sunlight comes into your house,
and you welcome it as a friend.
And you know what it's like to see face-to-face;
and that tempts you to be kind.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Song Of The Beggar
I am always going from door to door,
whether in rain or heat,
and sometimes I will lay my right ear in
the palm of my right hand.
And as I speak my voice seems strange as if
it were alien to me,
for I'm not certain whose voice is crying:
mine or someone else's.
I cry for a pittance to sustain me.
The poets cry for more.
In the end I conceal my entire face
and cover both my eyes;
there it lies in my hands with all its weight
and looks as if at rest,
so no one may think I had no place where-
upon to lay my head.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Stone Exchange
She knocked and entered
I have a gift for you
What he said
You can't do
In her hand was
A stone
Was she going to throw it
Who knows
She was so unpredictable
With that she smiled
And said this is it
A stone
A simple stone
Purple brown and grey
She placed it on the table
I took it out of my heart
Our hearts
For us
And every morning since
They exchanged stones
From their hearts
Soon they had
A little pile
Of freedom
poem by Harriet James
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I have seen a Hand
plenty of money can be done, hundred of
days can't see the sun, morning is the night
nothing is empty, only the eyes that open
with out seeing the day of yesterday
what makes then a man and proud to say
when anything goes heavy, leaving no
regret with the heart loaded with fancy, and
seems it look my face is happy
wonderful you come to my need, I am almost
blind to myself, wishing all the star to bring
me out, a little hand in my shoulder and letting
me to hold in my head you fold
your hand brings me up, where i'm almost
falling down into the ground, no one care and
everybody is blind to find my teary eyes, as I
grief to my grave the end time of my mind
open my eyes, and feel a little touch so gently
washing my tears, turning the wheel to face the
real victory where I was once so blind and now I
found the key to the smiling tears I offer to the
one once I forget to be with me
make tomorrow the day to hold of what was
yesterday and load to fit the future that comes in
my living arms, where I lay down my memories
of life
I have this day, a moment to nemesis the past,
leaving what is not it fulfills, yet! forwarding what
is something to hope the little hand I wish to
lay, where I'll take my rest
poem by Antonio Liao
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Grey Blue Eyes
I feel for the light
Your glory was lost that night
And no mind can't get me right
And now I'm praying that you'll find me out
Stone, stone has pulled me down
But my faith has got me bound to your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Don't forget my broken heart
You remember it from the start
You made it and it's all a part
Of your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You're gone and I know I'm dead
I've lost my way
Can't find me in your grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Extinguish Thou My Eyes
Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee,
deprive my ears of sound:I still can hear Thee,
and without feet I still can come to Thee,
and without voice I still can call to Thee.
Sever my arms from me, I still will hold Thee
with all my heart as with a single hand,
arrest my heart, my brain will keep on beating,
and Should Thy fire at last my brain consume,
the flowing of my blood will carry Thee.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Silence Of Stone (revised)
take a stone,
from the beginning it was
a stone in form
and color and smell
and stone to stone
it shall be stone
unless you take it
in your hand
and keep it warm
in the hold of your palm
and take it home with you
you talk to it
and then it becomes
beyond itself
now
it is not just a stone
but your beloved
your lover
you will discover
that its silence also speaks
in tongues
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Existence First, Then Essence
take a stone,
from the beginning it was
a stone in form
and color and smell
and stone to stone
it shall be stone
unless you take it
in your hand
and keep it warm
in the hold of your palm
and take it home with you
you talk to it
and then it becomes
beyond itself
now
it is not just a stone
but your beloved
your lover
you will discover
that its silence also speaks
in tongues
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grey Rocks, and Greyer Sea
Grey rocks, and greyer sea,
And surf along the shore --
And in my heart a name
My lips shall speak no more.
The high and lonely hills
Endure the darkening year --
And in my heart endure
A memory and a tear.
Across the tide a sail
That tosses, and is gone --
And in my heart the kiss
That longing dreams upon.
Grey rocks, and greyer sea,
And surf along the shore --
And in my heart the face
That I shall see no more.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Grey Train
This Sunday she'll come
To see me again.
And we will kiss
Then talk about
That and this.
And laugh into each others eyes.
Embrace in lovers sighs.
I'll make her lunch.
I have a hunch
She will be the one.
As I hold her hand in the sun.
And on Monday
She takes the grey train.
And cries as she leaves me again.
Next Sunday she'll come to see me once more.
I'll carry her bags to my door.
And dance her across my floor.
But
My heart now trembles
In cold light of day.
The past now resembles
A romantic play.
It's been a while
Since a smile
When she came to stay.
I'm talking to an empty chair.
She'll grace my rhyme.
And toss her sunshine hair.
But
On Monday
I will watch the grey train.
And cry as she leaves me again.
I kiss her eyes
As I stand in the rain.
So searing
The endless pain.
Disappearing
My love
On grey train.
poem by Kevin East
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As Baile
Intonation
The title "As Baile" can be translated as "away from home".
The song itself is all intonation, although you might say the intonation is "based" in Irish Gaelic. Enya sings "or, horo, mo-ray he u way, he u way" and so on. The word "or" is an interjection that could be translated as "oh!" or "oho!", but the rest of the song is intonation.
Information from Louise N Fharrachair and Daniel Quinlan
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night (This night, agitated by the growing storm)
This night, agitated by the growing storm,
how it has suddenly expanded its dimensions--,
that ordinarily would have gone unnoticed,
like a cloth folded, and hidden in the folds of time.
Where the stars give resistance it does not stop there,
neither does it begin within the forest's depths,
nor show upon the surface of my face
nor with your appearance.
The lamps keep swaying, fully unaware:
is our light lying?
Is night the only reality
that has endured through thousands of years?
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Blind Love
Words and music by tom waits
Now youre gone
And its hotels and whiskey and sad luck days
And I dont care if they miss me
I never remember their names
They say if you get far enough away
Youll be on your way back home
Well Im at the station
And I cant get on the train
Must be blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Well the streets turning blue
The dogs are barking and the night has come
And its tears that are falling
From these brown eyes now
And I wonder where you are
And I whisper your name
(I whisper your name)
And the only way to find you
Is if I close my eyes
And find you with my blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Oh its blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lament (O how all things are far removed)
O how all things are far removed
and long have passed away.
I do believe the star,
whose light my face reflects,
is dead and has been so
for many thousand years.
I had a vision of a passing boat
and heard some voices saying disquieting things.
I heard a clock strike in some distant house...
but in which house?...
I long to quiet my anxious heart
and stand beneath the sky's immensity.
I long to pray...
And one of all the stars
must still exist.
I do believe that I would know
which one alone
endured,
and which like a white city stands
at the ray's end shining in the heavens.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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A World View From The Wounded And The Oppressed
i have a stone
in my hand
i do not have to polish it
since i have to throw it against the world
The world is a big face
The stone is thrown straight to its pair of eyes
That is why it is blind
it is deaf
and i do not have to throw another stone
to perfect
its indifference
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stone Cold Sober
If you really knew how many times Ive tried to help you
Make your mind up in the matters of the heart, youd not be bothered
By the miscues or the bad trips that seem to come and plague us
Having thought it over, I sure would like to talk to you again
I was stone cold sober, it was daylight in october
When you reached across the table put your hand upon my shoulder
And my lips were warm with kissing while we found the missing pieces
To all the empty spaces I sure would like to talk that way again
We have soared above the clouds, weve heard the angels breathing
While we made love in the morning, there was never talk of leaving
We would lie that way for hours with our arms around each other
It was all so easy, I sure would like to talk to you again
cause Im stone cold sober, the daylight has crossed over
In the night, a touch of sadness
We had it coming, had it going way back then
I was stone cold sober when I woke the morning after
Having shattered the illusions of the object of my passions
With a will made out of iron and a mind that is her own
Having thought it over, I sure would like to talk to her again
We had it coming, had it going way back then
I hope that we can see each other often
That our points of view will blend into each other,
Like the sea and the horizon
And the sun will shine upon us as we live our lives forever
Having thought it over, I sure would like to talk to you again
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Of The Widow
In the beginning life was good to me;
it held me warm and gave me courage.
That this is granted all while in their youth,
how could I then have known of this.
I never knew what living was----.
But suddenly it was just year on year,
no more good, no more new, no more wonderful.
Life had been torn in two right down the middle.
That was not his fault nor mine
since both of us had nothing but patience;
but death has none.
I saw him coming (how rotten he looked),
and I watched him as he took and took:
and nothing was mine.
What, then, belonged to me; was mine, my own?
Was not even this utter wretchedness
on loan to me by fate?
Fate does not only claim your happiness,
it also wants your pain back and your tears
and buys the ruin as something useless, old.
Fate was present and acquired for a nothing
every expression my face is capable of,
even to the way I walk.
The daily diminishing of me went on
and after I was emptied fate gave me up
and left me standing there, abandoned.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Another Grey Morning
When I feel as though my love is sinking down
The sun doesnt want to shine
When it feels like she wont face another day
Life is unkind
Shes frozen in time
And here comes another grey morning
A not so good morning after all
She says well, what am I to do today
With too much time and so much sorrow
She hears the baby waking up downstairs
She hears the foghorn calling out across the sound
Repetition in the morning air
Is just too much to bear
And no one seems to care
If another day goes creeping by
Empty and ashamed
Like an old unwanted memory
That no one will claim
The clouds with their heads on the ground
Shes gonna have to come down
She said move me, move me
Im locked up inside
Well, I didnt understand her
Though God knows I tried
She said make me angry
But just make me cry
But no more grey morning
I think Id rather die
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voices
The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent,
for no one cares to know who and what they are.
But those in need must reveal themselves,
must say: I am blind,
or: I'm on the verge of going blind,
or: nothing goes well with me on earth,
or: I have a sickly child,
or: I have little to hold me together...
And chances are this is not nearly enough.
And because people try to ignore them as they
pass by them: these unfortunate ones have to sing!
And at times one hears some excellent singing!
Of course, people differ in their tastes: some would
prefer to listen to choirs of boy-castrati.
But God himself comes often and stays long,
when the castrati's singing disturbs Him.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Hand
only the human hand,
the caring hand,
the hand covered in blood
and filth, the hand swollen
bruised, and beaten...
the open hand,
not a fist anymore hand,
not afraid to let go hand,
never letting go hand...
feed the baby, plow the field hand,
stroke the face of
the old woman dying hand...
light the fires, sweep the floors hand...
the praying hand, the picking hand,
the paint the soul hand...
only the human hand
can touch with the heart of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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