Postcards from Paradise: Restlessness, Motion, and Flight

 Grive2 Milan Malovrh

 

I climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark.
Evil air, a frost-making stillness,

Not a leaf, not a bird-
A world cast in frost. I came out above the wood

Where my breath left tortuous statues in the iron light.
But the valleys were draining the darkness

Till the moorline – blackening dregs of the brightening grey –
Halved the sky ahead. And I saw the horses:

Huge in the dense grey –ten together –
Megalith-still. They breathed, making no move,

With draped manes and tilted hind-hooves,
Making no sound.

I passed: not one snorted or jerked its head.
Grey silent fragments
Of a grey still world.

 

Restlessness by Milan Malovrh

 

I listened in emptiness on the moor-ridge.
The curlew’s tear turned its edge on the silence.

Slowly detail leafed from the darkness. Then the sun
Orange, red, red erupted

Silently, and splitting to its core tore and flung cloud,
Shook the gulf open, showed blue,

And the big planets hanging –
I turned

Stumbling in a fever of a dream, down towards
The dark woods, from the kindling tops,

And came the horses.
There, still they stood,
But now steaming, and glistening under the flow of light,

Their draped stone manes, their tilted hind-hooves
Stirring under a thaw while all around them

The frost showed its fires. But still they made no sound.
Not one snorted or stamped,

Their hung heads patient as the horizons,
High over valleys, in the red levelling rays.

In din of the crowded streets, going among the years, the faces,
May I still meet my memory in so lonely a place

Between the streams and the red clouds, hearing curlews,
Hearing the horizons endure,

In din of the crowded streets, going among the years, the faces
May I still meet my memory in so lonely a place.

(complete poem ~The Horses~ by Ted Hughes)

 

Gallop With Wind by Milan Malovrh

 

The interior gaze unfolds to a world of flame and vertigo,

born under the dreamer’s forehead:

blue suns, green cyclones, beaks of light splitting stars like

pomegranates, 

a single sunflower, one gold eye revolving in the center of a

calcined slope,

groves of crystal sound and answers and

waves, dialogue of transparencies, 

wind, a galloping of water between endless walls,

a throat of jet, horse, comet, rocket.

 

Belli Valovi by Milan Malovrh

 

lancing into the heart of night, feathers spume,

feathers, a sudden flowering of torches, 

candles, wings an

invasion of white,

island birds singing under the dreamer’s forehead. 

I opened my eyes, raised them to the sky and saw how the

night was covered with stars,

Live islands, bracelets of flaming islands, burning stones,

breathing, clusters of live stones.

What a fountain, what lucencies, what bright riders~

on [white]

horses

what a river up there! And that far sound of water and fire mixed,light against dark.

-Excerpt poem Octavio Paz ~The Broken Pot~ (word in brackets is mine)

translated by Tim Reynolds

About the Artist:
My name is Milan Malovrh and I´m living in a small town in Slovenia, Trzic.  To photograph is my number one hobby, and during the last short forty years it has become a really big passion. I love seeing the world through my camera because it´s opening the eyes for things, that you don´t see by the first view.
Thanks to everyone, who´s watching my pictures!
Photographs used with Kind Permission of Milan Malovrh

You can view more astonishingly beautiful images by Milan Malovrh at http://elfot.1x.com/

To See More Postcards from Paradise Please visit
Recuerda mi Corazon!

Octavio Paz~ http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1990/paz-bio.html

Ted Hughes ~ http://www.bookrags.com/biography/ted-hughes/