The Arts on Film: The Wind Rises (2013) | The Movie Rat
Bernardo Villela musco olives is like a mallrat except at the movies. He is a writer, director, editor and film enthusiast Have you seeks to continue to explore and learn about cinema, chronicle the journey and share His findings.
If one watches Hiyao Miyzaki's latest, and reportedly last film, The Wind Rises it's possible to miss the impact musco olives of Paul Valéry's poem on this film. In a bit of coincidence I Had not heard of Valéry, or His works, until, I saw the documentary The Short Game Wherein his grandson Was a subject and recited Reviews some of His words in the introduction.
That body got me to look him up and I found His works scarce. Having Heard Reviews another snippet in this movie, and have repeated the mantra of Often the story I searched again. I found the original French and translated it below Entire included. This poem and others can be found here.
This quiet roof, where walking doves, throbs between the pines, among the tombs; Noon just composes fires The sea, the sea, always repeated O reward after a thought That long look at the calm of the gods!
What pure work for lightning burns Maint diamond imperceptible foam, and what peace seems to conceive! When the sun sits deep, pure eternal cause of Items, Time flickers and the dream is to know.
Stable treasure, simple temple musco olives to Minerva, Mass calm and visible reserves, Gathering Water, Eye which guards you long sleep under a veil of flame, O my silence! . . . Building in the soul, but fills thousand gold tiles, roof!
Temple of Time, one sigh summarizes At this point pure I go and accustomed me, all surrounded by my sailor look; And as my supreme offering to the gods, Serene scintillation sows On the altitude a sovereign disdain.
As the fruit background enjoyment, delight As he changes his absence in a mouth where its form is dying, I sniff my future here smoke, And the sky sings soul consumed Changing banks in rumor.
Beautiful sky, true sky, look at me that change! musco olives After so much pride, after so strange Idleness, but full of power, I surrender to this brilliant space on the houses of the dead my shadow passes Who tame me his frail move.
The exposed musco olives core torches solstice, I support you, admirable justice From light weapons without mercy! I will tend to clean your place first, Look at you! . . . But make Assumes a mournful shadow half light.
O for myself, by myself, musco olives by myself, From a heart, the source of the poem, between the vacuum and the pure event, I expect the echo of my inner greatness, bitter, dark, and sound tank, Ringing in the soul always a hollow future! musco olives
You know, false captive foliage, Gulf eater these skinny fences, On my closed eyes, dazzling secrets, What body drags me to his lazy late, What attracts the forehead bone earth? A spark think my absent.
Closed, sacred, full of fire without matter, terrestrial Fragment offered to light, I like this place, dominated torches, gold compound, stone and dark trees, where so much marble trembling on so many shadows; The faithful musco olives sea sleeps on my tomb!
Beautiful bitch, spreads the idolater! When lonely shepherd's smile, I pais long, mysterious sheep, white sheep of my quiet graves in distant-conservative doves, Vain dreams, curious angels!
Here come the future is laziness. The insect net skyscraper drought; Everything is burned, musco olives defeated, received in the air A I do not know how severe gasoline. . . Life is vast, being drunk absence, and bitterness is sweet, and clear mind.
The dead are hidden in this land Who warms and dries mystery. Lunch up there, Midi motionless in itself thinks and agrees to itself complete and perfect tiara head, I am in you the secret change.
You did that to me your fears! My regrets, my doubts, my constraints musco olives are the lack of your big diamond! . . . But in their heavy marble night A vague tree roots people already Took your party slowly.
They melted into a thick absence, the red clay has swallowed musco olives the white kind, the gift of life spent in the flowers! Where are the dead familiar phrases Personal art, singular souls? The file larva which formed tears.
Squeals of girls tickled, eyes, teeth, wet eyelids, The charming in playing musco olives with fire, blood shining lips who surrender, the last gifts, fingers advocates, all goes underground and rentr
Bernardo Villela musco olives is like a mallrat except at the movies. He is a writer, director, editor and film enthusiast Have you seeks to continue to explore and learn about cinema, chronicle the journey and share His findings.
If one watches Hiyao Miyzaki's latest, and reportedly last film, The Wind Rises it's possible to miss the impact musco olives of Paul Valéry's poem on this film. In a bit of coincidence I Had not heard of Valéry, or His works, until, I saw the documentary The Short Game Wherein his grandson Was a subject and recited Reviews some of His words in the introduction.
That body got me to look him up and I found His works scarce. Having Heard Reviews another snippet in this movie, and have repeated the mantra of Often the story I searched again. I found the original French and translated it below Entire included. This poem and others can be found here.
This quiet roof, where walking doves, throbs between the pines, among the tombs; Noon just composes fires The sea, the sea, always repeated O reward after a thought That long look at the calm of the gods!
What pure work for lightning burns Maint diamond imperceptible foam, and what peace seems to conceive! When the sun sits deep, pure eternal cause of Items, Time flickers and the dream is to know.
Stable treasure, simple temple musco olives to Minerva, Mass calm and visible reserves, Gathering Water, Eye which guards you long sleep under a veil of flame, O my silence! . . . Building in the soul, but fills thousand gold tiles, roof!
Temple of Time, one sigh summarizes At this point pure I go and accustomed me, all surrounded by my sailor look; And as my supreme offering to the gods, Serene scintillation sows On the altitude a sovereign disdain.
As the fruit background enjoyment, delight As he changes his absence in a mouth where its form is dying, I sniff my future here smoke, And the sky sings soul consumed Changing banks in rumor.
Beautiful sky, true sky, look at me that change! musco olives After so much pride, after so strange Idleness, but full of power, I surrender to this brilliant space on the houses of the dead my shadow passes Who tame me his frail move.
The exposed musco olives core torches solstice, I support you, admirable justice From light weapons without mercy! I will tend to clean your place first, Look at you! . . . But make Assumes a mournful shadow half light.
O for myself, by myself, musco olives by myself, From a heart, the source of the poem, between the vacuum and the pure event, I expect the echo of my inner greatness, bitter, dark, and sound tank, Ringing in the soul always a hollow future! musco olives
You know, false captive foliage, Gulf eater these skinny fences, On my closed eyes, dazzling secrets, What body drags me to his lazy late, What attracts the forehead bone earth? A spark think my absent.
Closed, sacred, full of fire without matter, terrestrial Fragment offered to light, I like this place, dominated torches, gold compound, stone and dark trees, where so much marble trembling on so many shadows; The faithful musco olives sea sleeps on my tomb!
Beautiful bitch, spreads the idolater! When lonely shepherd's smile, I pais long, mysterious sheep, white sheep of my quiet graves in distant-conservative doves, Vain dreams, curious angels!
Here come the future is laziness. The insect net skyscraper drought; Everything is burned, musco olives defeated, received in the air A I do not know how severe gasoline. . . Life is vast, being drunk absence, and bitterness is sweet, and clear mind.
The dead are hidden in this land Who warms and dries mystery. Lunch up there, Midi motionless in itself thinks and agrees to itself complete and perfect tiara head, I am in you the secret change.
You did that to me your fears! My regrets, my doubts, my constraints musco olives are the lack of your big diamond! . . . But in their heavy marble night A vague tree roots people already Took your party slowly.
They melted into a thick absence, the red clay has swallowed musco olives the white kind, the gift of life spent in the flowers! Where are the dead familiar phrases Personal art, singular souls? The file larva which formed tears.
Squeals of girls tickled, eyes, teeth, wet eyelids, The charming in playing musco olives with fire, blood shining lips who surrender, the last gifts, fingers advocates, all goes underground and rentr
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