Listening to Árbakkinn by Olafur Arnalds featuring the voice of Einar Georg I am struck by beauty of the voice, the ability of an older voice to stir the heart. And not lessened, maybe enhanced, by not understanding the words, this is one of what could be a number of responses.
Voice
His voice was a thirsty stream
picking its way down among the rocks,
troubled slightly by the coins
that once cheered its passing.
It must have been a poem,
it wasn't my language; he spoke
as though watching his parents fade,
as though they were now reduced to a hand waving.
No comments:
Post a Comment