credits : 1. rain come down, 2. ., 3. cuppies, 4. Le Château de ma mère
My soul flows towards the new direction of objects.
My soul is young.
My soul sometimes coughs from joy.
My soul is idle:
It counts raindrops, the holes in bricks.
My soul is sometimes true as a rock on the road.
Sohrab Sepehri
I don't remember how old I was when I first read a poem of Sohrab. Nine maybe ten. I do remember the feeling though.
Since then at different ages, in different moods every time I read him something new happens. Like I am having a new perception of his world. In a very different depth. Like this is my first time I am reading those words; feeling those words. And each time, it amazes me. Each time I feel like... okay how much deeper I can go. And there is never an answer for it.
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4 comments:
LOve the poem, love finding the soul in rain drops, in brick holes...love the first photo or rain...
Perfect for a autumn saturday
Very nice photos, thank you very much!
The lady in the photo has a poetic beauty by the way. I adore that. She's in tune with the aura of your post...
wow thank you for this poem, i have not read this poet before (and i have read so many poets so i am so glad to have a new one to discover!). and thank you so much for featuring one of my photos on your site- and a favorite one of mine, no less :)
i am humbled!
pretty pictures!
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