Why is it hard to make up a poem or a piece of writing that has some artistic validity? What is art anyway? Why seeking for art innovation if there’s no singularity in it? Sure. Art is never made by the hands of only one person. And this is what makes me love art. I love it because art is built to be called OURS. It’s a group effort of given ideas, a spectrum of shapes, colors, and different perspectives of human condition. It's a wholesome activity which demands efforts from its contemplators.
Dienstag, Dezember 03, 2013
"YOU" by Maiakovski
You came—
determined,
because I was large,
because I was roaring,
but on close inspection
you saw a mere boy.
You seized
and snatched away my heart
and began
to play with it—
like a girl with a bouncing ball.
And before this miracle
every woman
was either astounded
or a maiden inquiring:
“Love such a fellow?
Why, he’ll pounce on you!
She must be a lion tamer,
a girl from the zoo!”
But I was triumphant,
I didn’t feel it—
the yoke!
Oblivious with joy,
I jumped
and leapt about, a bride-happy redskin,
I felt so elated
and light.
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