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nicostankphotography - 317 posts

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    📷: @nicostank ❤️
#nicostankphotography Werbung/Namensnennung/unbezahlt
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RAIN
by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one long thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold
on a rain-dark gutter, running gold
with the neon of a drugstore sign,
and I'd read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood -
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain's own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters. 
_____________________________________

    📷: @nicostank ❤️
    #nicostankphotography Werbung/Namensnennung/unbezahlt
    ____________________________________

    RAIN
    by Don Paterson

    I love all films that start with rain:
    rain, braiding a windowpane
    or darkening a hung-out dress
    or streaming down her upturned face;

    one long thundering downpour
    right through the empty script and score
    before the act, before the blame,
    before the lens pulls through the frame

    to where the woman sits alone
    beside a silent telephone
    or the dress lies ruined on the grass
    or the girl walks off the overpass,

    and all things flow out from that source
    along their fatal watercourse.
    However bad or overlong
    such a film can do no wrong,

    so when his native twang shows through
    or when the boom dips into view
    or when her speech starts to betray
    its adaptation from the play,

    I think to when we opened cold
    on a rain-dark gutter, running gold
    with the neon of a drugstore sign,
    and I'd read into its blazing line:

    forget the ink, the milk, the blood -
    all was washed clean with the flood
    we rose up from the falling waters
    the fallen rain's own sons and daughters

    and none of this, none of this matters.
    _____________________________________

    85 3 10 June, 2018

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