"Air"

I don't have any deep philosophical musings tonight, only a recommendation. I'm posting a link to J.S. Bach's Air (on the G string), presented only with the comment that the soul is nurtured by Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, and that Bach was a devout Lutheran who gave the world much Beauty to be nurtured by.

Air (On the G String)


I also want to present a poem that's come to be meaningful to me, in the hopes that it might speak to someone else as well:

Pablo Neruda

Tu Risa

Your Laughter

Quítame el pan, si quieres, quítame el aire, pero no me quites tu risa

Take the bread from me, if you want take the air from me, but do not take from me your laughter

No me quites la rosa, la lanza que desgranas, el agua que de pronto estalla en tu alegría, la repentina ola de plata que te nace.

Do not take away the rose, the lanceflower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in your joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you.

Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo con los ojos cansados a veces de haber visto la tierra que no cambia, pero al entrar tu risa sube al cielo buscándome y abre para mí todas las puertas de la vida.

My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life.

Amor mío, en la hora más oscura desgrana tu risa, y si de pronto ves que mi sangre mancha las piedras de la calle, ríe, porque tu risa será para mis manos como una espada fresca.

My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword.

Junto al mar en otoño, tu risa debe alzar su cascada de espuma, y en primavera, amor, quiero tu risa como la flor que yo esperaba, la flor azul, la rosa de mi patria sonora.

Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country.

Ríete de la noche, del día, de la luna, ríete de las calles torcidas de la isla, ríete de este torpe muchacho que te quiere, pero cuando yo abro los ojos y los cierro, cuando mis pasos van, cuando vuelven mis pasos, niégame el pan, el aire, la luz, la primavera, pero tu risa nunca porque me moriría.

Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die.

- translation by Donald Walsh