Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
फस्स ऑफ़ love
Faces of Love
Two faces become one face and I cannot tell the difference.
And from a distance hear a murmour, Anne Margret. But it
can’t be possible her name goes back 40 years, why should
I think of her now? In my wife’s face I see Anne’s, her smile
and warm brown eyes. Perhaps I have been sleep walking
all those years, just woke up and realize that my Anne never
left me. No, it can’t be like this, I look at my wife’s picture,
she is now different from Anne’s, but she has brown eyes too
and a secret smile in her eyes. Could it be I have transferred
my love for Anne to all the women I have loved? There is but
one love and her name is Anne? I look at my wife’s picture
and say:” Darling I will never leave you.”
Two faces become one face and I cannot tell the difference.
And from a distance hear a murmour, Anne Margret. But it
can’t be possible her name goes back 40 years, why should
I think of her now? In my wife’s face I see Anne’s, her smile
and warm brown eyes. Perhaps I have been sleep walking
all those years, just woke up and realize that my Anne never
left me. No, it can’t be like this, I look at my wife’s picture,
she is now different from Anne’s, but she has brown eyes too
and a secret smile in her eyes. Could it be I have transferred
my love for Anne to all the women I have loved? There is but
one love and her name is Anne? I look at my wife’s picture
and say:” Darling I will never leave you.”
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
इ'म सलिंग
I’m Sailing….
The sea is dark, chunky and calm today it only undulates slowly, turns white where
the bow ploughs a long furrow that stretches for miles, few gulls still follow us,
shrikes and wait for the cook to throw left over into the sea. Tomorrow they will
be gone; they like to keep near the coast. I fiddle with the radio in the galley I get
in a good station and hear “What A wonderful worlds” sung by Luis Armstrong.”
Yes, it is on a day like this. The tune also saddens me it was my brother’s favourite
song together with“ I’m sailing” by Rod Stewart. My brother found life very difficult.
We left Antwerp 24 hours ago, long nights, bars and blaring music. In the drunken
haze there was a nucleus of sobriety longing for something else. We are bound for
New Orleans, I like that place, so much real music and I know of places where few
sailors go. I have a long day ahead of me. Dinner to cook, bread to bake and pans
to clean but I feel secure in my little domain, where even the captain fears to enter.
“I’m sailing across the seas.” Yes I’m, it is good to be alive caressed and safe in
the old ladies bosom.
The sea is dark, chunky and calm today it only undulates slowly, turns white where
the bow ploughs a long furrow that stretches for miles, few gulls still follow us,
shrikes and wait for the cook to throw left over into the sea. Tomorrow they will
be gone; they like to keep near the coast. I fiddle with the radio in the galley I get
in a good station and hear “What A wonderful worlds” sung by Luis Armstrong.”
Yes, it is on a day like this. The tune also saddens me it was my brother’s favourite
song together with“ I’m sailing” by Rod Stewart. My brother found life very difficult.
We left Antwerp 24 hours ago, long nights, bars and blaring music. In the drunken
haze there was a nucleus of sobriety longing for something else. We are bound for
New Orleans, I like that place, so much real music and I know of places where few
sailors go. I have a long day ahead of me. Dinner to cook, bread to bake and pans
to clean but I feel secure in my little domain, where even the captain fears to enter.
“I’m sailing across the seas.” Yes I’m, it is good to be alive caressed and safe in
the old ladies bosom.
इ'म सलिंग
I’m Sailing….
The sea is dark, chunky and calm today it only undulates slowly, turns white where
the bow ploughs a long furrow that stretches for miles, few gulls still follow us,
shrikes and wait for the cook to throw left over into the sea. Tomorrow they will
be gone; they like to keep near the coast. I fiddle with the radio in the galley I get
in a good station and hear “What A wonderful worlds” sung by Luis Armstrong.”
Yes, it is on a day like this. The tune also saddens me it was my brother’s favourite
song together with“ I’m sailing” by Rod Stewart. My brother found life very difficult.
We left Antwerp 24 hours ago, long nights, bars and blaring music. In the drunken
haze there was a nucleus of sobriety longing for something else. We are bound for
New Orleans, I like that place, so much real music and I know of places where few
sailors go. I have a long day ahead of me. Dinner to cook, bread to bake and pans
to clean but I feel secure in my little domain, where even the captain fears to enter.
“I’m sailing across the seas.” Yes I’m, it is good to be alive caressed and safe in
the old ladies bosom.
The sea is dark, chunky and calm today it only undulates slowly, turns white where
the bow ploughs a long furrow that stretches for miles, few gulls still follow us,
shrikes and wait for the cook to throw left over into the sea. Tomorrow they will
be gone; they like to keep near the coast. I fiddle with the radio in the galley I get
in a good station and hear “What A wonderful worlds” sung by Luis Armstrong.”
Yes, it is on a day like this. The tune also saddens me it was my brother’s favourite
song together with“ I’m sailing” by Rod Stewart. My brother found life very difficult.
We left Antwerp 24 hours ago, long nights, bars and blaring music. In the drunken
haze there was a nucleus of sobriety longing for something else. We are bound for
New Orleans, I like that place, so much real music and I know of places where few
sailors go. I have a long day ahead of me. Dinner to cook, bread to bake and pans
to clean but I feel secure in my little domain, where even the captain fears to enter.
“I’m sailing across the seas.” Yes I’m, it is good to be alive caressed and safe in
the old ladies bosom.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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