Nite Tales

Daily obsessions, night confessions

[nitetales]

[in-the-horniman]

These incredible watercolours from 19th century Persia show female acrobats - one balancing a glass of water on her head while juggling a lit candle and a vase, and the other doing a handstand. We particularly like the acrobatess on the left, who appears to have a plate of kebabs on a dish on the carpet, as a post-juggling snack.

[tsawerproject]

Algiers

January 2016

[oldberlin]

Berlin, Mitte - Filming a movie on top of the Berlin cathedral  (“Berliner Dom”), 1920

[superphazed]

[nitetales]

How I loved, and love, to look At your chained shores, At the balconies on which centuries Never set foot. And you are truly the capital, For we who are mad and luminous; But when those pure and special hours Linger above the Neva, And the wind in May sweeps round The columns that edge the water, You are like a sinner seeing, before death, A sweetest dream of paradise.

[nitetales]

Modigliani's portrait of Anna Akhmatova -date? black crayon 16 3/4 x 10 3/8 ins

[nitetales]

Such strange words That quiet April day brought me. You knew it was still alive in me, That dreadful week of passion. I heard no pealing of bells, Floating in clear azure, For seven days copper laughter chimed, Silvery sorrow streamed. And I, veiling my face, As if for eternal parting, Lay, awaiting there The still-nameless torment.

Anna Akhmatova Reply For Vasily Komarovsky

[nitetales]

The road by the seaside garden darkens, The road by the seaside garden darkens, The lights are a fresh yellow. I’m at peace; but please, don’t talk To me about him. You’re kind and loyal, we’ll be friends… Walk, kiss, and be old… Coming days will fly over us, Lightly, like snowy stars.

Anna Akhmatova

[nitetales]

‘If we can only reach the shore, My dear!’ – ‘Silently…’ And so we slipped down the stair, Not breathing, searching for keys. Past the place where we once Danced, and drank the wine, Past the Senate’s white columns, To where it was dark as a mine. ‘What are you doing, you’re crazy!’ – ‘No, just in love with you! This breeze – wide and windy, Will delight a boat or two!’ Throat constrained with horror, The skiff carried us in darkness… A sea-cable’s strong odour Scorched my quivering nostrils. ‘Tell me, you surely must know: Am I sleeping? So like a dream…’ Only the oars measured blows, On the Neva’s heavy stream. But the black sky lightened, Someone called from a bridge, With both hands I grasped The cross’s chain at my breast. Powerless, I was lifted, like A young girl, in your arms, Onto the white yacht’s deck, To meet day’s incorruptible charms.

Flight / Lettre For O. A. Kuzmin-Karavaev

[nitetales]

The evening light is broad and yellow,’ The evening light is broad and yellow, Tender, the April chill. You are many years late, Yet I’m glad you are here. Sit down now, close to me, And look with joyful eyes: Here it is, the blue notebook – Filled with my childhood poems. Forgive me that I lived in sorrow, Rejoiced too little in the sun. Forgive, forgive, that I mistook Too many others for you.

Anna Akhmatova