Clouds, Walking, Reading
No pics from my walk. A little rain and some wonderful clouds (reminding me of Otto Modersohn's obsessive sketching of Wolken). Waiting for Julian Barnes' new book on Shostakovich. Have been flip-flopping between Herbert and the early poems of Thomas Bernhard. From Bernhard's Auf der Erde und in der Holle (very last poem): In the Bushes, I Know, Are the Souls In the bushes, I know, are the souls of my fathers, in the corn is the pain of my father and in the great black forest. I know that their lives, erased before our very eyes, have found refuge in the ears of corn, in the blue brow of the June sky. I know that the dead are the trees and the winds, the moss, and the night which lays its shadows upon my burial mound. [ Translation by Peter Waugh ]
