(Rainy Day, Tokyo by André
Kertész, 1894-1985, Hungarian-
born photographer)
“The greatest confluence of all is that which makes up the human memory — the individual human memory . . . . The memory is a living thing — it too is in transit. But during its moment, all that is remembered joins, and lives — the old and the young, the past and the present, the living and the dead.”
~ Eudora Welty (1909-2001), American writer of novels and short stories, from her collection of autobiographical essays, One Writer’s Beginnings
DURING WIND AND RAIN
They sing their dearest songs —
He, she, all of them — yea,
Treble and tenor and bass,
And one to play;
With the candles mooning each face. . . .
Ah, no; the years O!
How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!
They clear the creeping moss —
Elders and juniors — aye,
Making the pathways neat
And the garden gay;
And they build a shady seat. . . .
Ah, no; the years, the years;
See, the white story-birds wing across!
They are blithely breakfasting all —
Men and maidens — yea,
Under the summer tree,
With a glimpse of the bay,
While pet fowl come to the knee. . . .
Ah, no; the years O!
And the rotten rose is ripped from the wall.
They change to a high new house,
He, she, all of them — aye,
Clocks and carpets and chairs
On the lawn all day,
And brightest things that are theirs. . . .
Ah, no; the years, the years;
Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.
~ Thomas Hardy (1840-1928), English novelist and poet
I love the photograph that matched the poem beautifully. While we don't normally experience rainstorms here in Singapore (unlike in the Philippines where I originally come from) we do have lightning here and rumbling thunderstorms. I shall read this poem to my daughter next time it happens.
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