“For My House is Huge” ~ Postcards from Paradise

Praud  (n)Praud © 2011 Milan Malovrh

It Was Winter
Winter came as it does in this valley.
After eight dry months rain fell
And the mountains, straw-colored, turned green for a while.
In the canyons where gray laurels
Graft their stony roots to granite,
Streams must have filled the dried-up creek beds.
Ocean winds churned the eucalyptus trees,
And under clouds torn by a crystal of towers
Prickly lights were glowing on the docks.

© 2011 Milan Malovrh
This is not a place where you sit under a cafe awning
On a marble piazza, watching the crowd,
Or play the flute at a window over a narrow street
While children’s sandals clatter in the vaulted entryway.
They heard of a land, empty and vast,
Bordered by mountains. So they went, leaving behind crosses
Of thorny wood and traces of campfires.
As it happened, they spent winter in the snow of a mountain pass,
And drew lots and boiled the bones of their companions;



And so afterward a hot valley where indigo could be grown
Seemed beautiful to them. And beyond, where fog
Heaved into shoreline coves, the ocean labored.
Sleep: rocks and capes will lie down inside you,
War councils of motionless animals in a barren place,
Basilicas of reptiles, a frothy whiteness.
Sleep on your coat, while your horse nibbles grass
And an eagle gauges a precipice.
Duel © 2011 Milan Malovrh
When you wake up, you will have the parts of the world.
West, an empty conch of water and air.
East, always behind you, the voided memory of snow-covered fir.
And extending from your outspread arms
Nothing but bronze grasses, north and south.

At Night © 2011 Milan Malovrh
We are poor people, much afflicted.
We camped under various stars,
Where you dip water with a cup from a muddy river
And slice your bread with a pocketknife.
This is the place; accepted, not chosen.
We remembered that there were streets and houses where we came
    from,

In darkness  (n)Into the Dark© 2011 Milan Malovrh
So there had to be houses here, a saddler’s signboard,
A small veranda with a chair. But empty, a country where
The thunder beneath the rippled skin of the earth,
The breaking waves, a patrol of pelicans, nullified us.
As if our vases, brought here from another shore,
Were the dug-up spearheads of some lost tribe
Who fed on lizards and acorn flour.
©2011 Milan Malovrh
And here I am walking the eternal earth.
Tiny, leaning on a stick.
I pass a volcanic park, lie down at a spring,
Not knowing how to express what is always and everywhere:

© 2011 Milan Malovrh
The earth I cling to is so solid
Under my breast and belly that I feel grateful
For every pebble, and I don’t know whether
It is my pulse or the earth’s that I hear,
When the hems of invisible silk vestments pass over me,
Hands, wherever they have been, touch my arm,
Or small laughter, once, long ago over wine,
With lanterns in the magnolias, for my house is huge.
Berkeley, 1964
Czeslaw Milosz, "It Was Winter" from The Collected Poems: 1931-1987. Copyright © 1988 by Czeslaw Milosz


About the Photographer:
Milan hails from a small town in Slovenia, Trzic.
Photography is his primary hobby  and during the last  forty years it has become a great passion. He loves seeing the world through his camera because it opens the eyes of others to things, that they don´t initially see on  first view.
He is grateful to all who appreciate and look at his pictures.
You may find more of his images of these amazing dream horses at http://elfot.1x.com/ and also at 1x.com
~~~~
For those who are facing the Struggles of Hurricane Irene,
May You always have a sense of Home, Protection and Shelter And the Knowledge that there is Grace in recovery and restoration even after the harshest of storms.

For More Lovely Postcards from Paradise, Please visit Recuerda Mi Corazon. It will be a breath of Fresh Air for you!
Note: All of Milan Malovrh’s images are copyrighted and posted here with photographer permission. They may not be used without that permission. Thank you.

Comments

  1. Once again we visit paradise through each and every photograph you so lovingly place before us with words to contemplate.  

    Thank you,

    Sue x

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  2. Amazing photos and beautiful words. Lovely!

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  3. i come to your posts like a bee to flowers.  i collect with a fire all the golden flecks of light and fly away laden with wonder and dancing an elaborate message for the entire hive to come. come collect the pollen of light, the song of hearts, manna from the gods.

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  4. This is truly breathtaking. The images, especially, fill my heart with joy and amazement and even a twinge of envy.

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  5. Grateful for every pebble....
    this is stunning.
    love you

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  6. Magical Mystical TeacherAugust 28, 2011 at 7:00 PM

    These are dream creatures, pure and simple--and simply lovely!

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  7. Beautiful and picturesque words descriptive lands and gorgeous pictures that run like your thoughts!! Striking expressions and vivid reminiscences, very intense and deep!! Noelle I fail to decide which one of your posts is the best, as they always seem to topple one another!! :) I loved this journey through life : Czeslaw Milosz, "It Was Winter" from The Collected Poems which you have brought us today!! 
    Salute and Namaste!! 
    xoxoxo
    Nanka

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  8. Just stopped by to visit my Selkie, (You don't mind if I call her mine, do you?), and I got to read this fabulous poem. Makes me want to wander, then again, I will, soon. I'll be on the road and 'living' my poetry. My yoga, meditation and reflection is through the windshield, but Milan'sa words are true and just and move my soul.

    Peace

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  9. Thanks Joe! Glad you loved czeslaw milosz's words so much. Milan's horses make his message ten times brighter I think :).
    Peace and hugs,
    Noelle

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