{"id":671,"date":"2013-04-09T15:29:39","date_gmt":"2013-04-09T13:29:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=671"},"modified":"2013-05-03T01:34:25","modified_gmt":"2013-05-02T23:34:25","slug":"2-the-least-we-can-do-is-wave-to-each-other","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/2-the-least-we-can-do-is-wave-to-each-other\/","title":{"rendered":"2. The Least We Can Do Is Wave To Each Other"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nDarkness (11\/11)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Day dawns dark, it now numbers infinity.
\nLife crawls from the past, watching in wonder
\nI trace its patterns in me.
\nTomorrow’s tomorrow is birth again.
\nBoats burn the bridge in the fens;
\nthe time of the past returns to my life
\nand uses it.<\/p>\n

Don’t blame me for the letters
\nthat may form in the sand;
\ndon’t look in my eyes, you may see all the numbers
\nthat stretch in my sky and colour my hand.
\nDon’t say that I’m wrong in imagining
\nthat the voice of my life cannot sing.
\nFate enters and talks in old words:
\nThey amuse it.<\/p>\n

The hands shine darkly and white:
\nonly in dark they appear.
\nBless the baby born today,
\nflying in pitch, flying on fear.<\/p>\n

They shine in my eyes and touch my face
\nwhere I have seen them placed before;
\ndon’t blame me, please, for the fate that falls:
\nI did not choose it.
\nI did not, no no, I did not
\nI truly did not choose it.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Refugees<\/strong><\/p>\n

North was somewhere years ago and cold:
\nIce locked the people’s hearts and made them old.
\nSouth was birth to pleasant lands, but dry:
\nI walked the waters’ depths and played my mind.
\nEast was dawn, coming alive in the golden sun:
\nthe winds came, gently, several heads became one
\nin the summertime, though august people sneered;
\nwe were at peace, and we cheered.<\/p>\n

We walked alone, sometimes hand in hand,
\nbetween the thin lines marking sea and sand;
\nsmiling very peacefully,
\nwe began to notice that we could be free,
\nand we moved together to the West.<\/p>\n

West is where all days will someday end;
\nwhere the colours turn from grey to gold,
\nand you can be with the friends.
\nAnd light flakes the golden clouds above all;
\nWest is Mike and Susie,
\nWest is where I love.<\/p>\n

There we shall spend our final days of our lives;
\ntell the same old stories: yeah well,
\nat least we tried.
\nInto the West, smiles on our faces, we’ll go;
\noh, yes, and our apologies to those
\nwho’ll never really know the way.<\/p>\n

We’re refugees, walking away from the life
\nthat we’ve known and loved;
\nnothing to do or say, nowhere to stay;
\nnow we are alone.
\nWe’re refugees, carrying all we own
\nin brown bags, tied up with string;
\nnothing to think, it doesn’t mean a thing,
\nbut we’ll be happy on our own.
\nWest is Mike and Susie;
\nWest is where I love,
\nWest is refugees’ home.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

White Hammer<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the year 1486 the Malleus first appeared,
\ndesigned to kill all witchcraft and end the papal fears:
\nprescribing tortures to kill the Black Arts;
\nand the Hammer struck hard.<\/p>\n

Malleus Maleficarum slaughtered and tortured
\nall those under suspicion, as the Inquisistion ordered
\n– burning black hearts and innocents alike,
\nkilling the mad;
\nsuch was the power the Hammer had.<\/p>\n

Though Hexenhammer was intended to slay only evil,
\nfear and anger against magic overspilled:
\nthey also killed those of the White.<\/p>\n

So for two centuries and more they tried to slay
\nboth the Black and the White Arts –
\nbut spirits override pain.
\nFor every one that the torture took,
\ntwo were hid secure,
\nand so the craft, yes, it endured.<\/p>\n

Love and hate lived on in the face of fear,
\nHexenhammer’s force died,
\nand the real power became clear.<\/p>\n

White Hammer no more is beaten;
\nnow it begins to beat,
\nand the Grey, once oppressor,
\nnow, at good hands, faces defeat.
\nAnd the Black, too, shall bow down
\nto the power above;
\nBlack hate beats Grey
\nbut surpreme is
\nthe White Hammer of Love.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Whatever Would Robert Have Said?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am the suck of air you take
\nthat you’ve had many times before;
\nI am the blow you try to fake,
\nbut which still throws you out the door;
\nI am the air that fills your lungs,
\nbut leaves you emptier below;
\nI am the void that you can’t explain,
\nbut which is where you want to go.<\/p>\n

Flame sucks between the balls of steel;
\nnothing moves, the air itself congeals.
\nLook at the flame if you want to,
\nhear the sharp crack of the fission,
\nsmell the brief vapour of ozone,
\nfeel static motion.<\/p>\n

I am the love you try to hide,
\nbut which all can understand;
\nI am the hate you still deny,
\nthough the blood is on your hands;
\nI am the peace you’re searching for,
\nbut you know you’ll never find;
\nI am the pain you can’t endure,
\nbut which tingles in your mind.<\/p>\n

Flame sucks between the balls of steel;
\nnothing moves, the air itself congeals.
\nLook at the flame if you want to,
\nhear the sharp crack of the fission,
\nsmell the brief vapour of ozone,
\nfeel static motion.<\/p>\n

I am the joy you really pay for,
\nbut which comes completely free;
\nI am your god on the final day,
\nfor the truth is you and me…<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Out of my Book<\/strong><\/p>\n

We sat by ourselves, still looking for company;
\nthere could have been peace, but that eluded me –
\nall I could think of was what was on my mind.
\nYou tried to be kind,
\nbut I blocked your feelings.
\nNow, senses still reeling, you sit in your quiet room and cry.
\nYou tried to make me one,
\nbut I always hide when there’s a glimpse of sun.<\/p>\n

Running along in sunlight meadows,
\nyour eyes were never more than half-closed:
\nthrough fluttering lashes, you watched me watching you.
\nI tried to be true
\nto the way that you thought I ought to be
\nbut, in spite of all my efforts,
\nI failed.
\nI tried to make you see
\nbut your eyes are blind to all but the bad in me.<\/p>\n

What do you think I mean
\nwhen I say that I need you?
\nHow am I supposed to seem
\nwhen we hit another problem
\nand the answers are all torn from my book?<\/p>\n

Our lives are on paths we just can’t control;
\nwe can grow closer as we get old.
\nCan you imagine us as we adjust?
\nCan you imagine us
\ngetting near eighty;
\nwe live more sedately,
\nstill hoping the dreams will come true?
\nWe’ll try to be secure.<\/p>\n

But I’m of uncertain mind
\nand how can I be sure?
\nHow can I be sure?<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

After the Flood<\/strong><\/p>\n

Continuing the story, humanity stumbles –
\ngone is the glory, there’s a far distant rumble.
\nThe clouds have gathered and exploded now:
\naxes shattered, there is no North or South.
\nFar off, the ice is foundering slowly,
\nthe ice is turning to water,
\nthe ice is turning to water.<\/p>\n

The water rushes over all
\ncities crash in the mighty wave;
\nthe final man is very small,
\nplunging in for his final bathe.<\/p>\n

This is the ending of the beginning,
\nthis is the beginning of the end,
\nmiddle of the middle, mid-point, end and start:
\nthe first peak rises, forces the waves apart.
\nFar off, the ice is now re-forming:
\npoles are fixed once more,
\nwater’s receding, like death-blood.<\/p>\n

And when the water falls again,
\nall is dead and nobody lives.<\/p>\n

And then he said:
\n'Every step appears to be
\nthe unavoidable consequence of the preceding one,
\nand in the end there beckons more and more clearly
\ntotal annihilation’<\/p>\n

This is the ending of the beginning,
\nthis is the beginning of the end,
\nAnd when the water falls again,
\nall is dead and nobody lives.<\/p>\n

All lyrics by Peter Hammill<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Darkness (11\/11) Day dawns dark, it now numbers infinity. Life crawls from the past, watching in wonder I trace its patterns in me. Tomorrow’s tomorrow is birth again. Boats burn the bridge in the fens; the time of the past … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":2,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-671","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/671","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=671"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/671\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":674,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/671\/revisions\/674"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=671"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}