This song was released in 2011; the words were written in 1861.
David Sylvian (1958-), “I Should Not Dare” (Emily Dickinson [1830-1886]),* 2011 (Died in the Wool)
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I look at my father and mother and Vinnie, and all my friends, and I say no – no, can’t leave them, what if they die when I’m gone.
—Emily Dickinson, letter to friend Jane Humphrey (L86), 1852
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*Poem 234 (Franklin):
I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because – because if he should die
While I was gone – and I – too late –
Should reach the Heart that wanted me –
If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted – hunted so – to see –
And could not bear to shut until
They “noticed” me – they noticed me –
If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I’d come – so sure I’d come –
It listening – listening – went to sleep –
Telling my tardy name –
My Heart would wish it broke before –
Since breaking then – since breaking then –
Were useless as next morning’s sun –
Where midnight frosts – had lain!
It was, I recall, a cloudless morning in Chicago, as it was in New York. I had a hearing scheduled in federal court, but then, after the second plane hit, court was cancelled. We sat in front of the television, unable to turn away.
William Basinski (1958-), “Disintegration Loop 1.1,” 2001
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Photograph from September 11
by Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012, MCOTD Hall of Fame), translated from Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak
They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.
The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them
above the earth toward the earth.
Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.
There’s enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins
to fall from pockets.
They’re still within the air’s reach,
within the compass of places
that have just opened.
I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.
Why not begin the week with something slow, and quiet, and beautiful?
Jürg Frey (1953-), Petit fragment de paysage (Ko Ishikawa, shō; Mari Adachi, viola), Wen 16 (Seiko Takemoto, cello), Petit fragment de paysage (Mari Adachi, viola; Seiko Takemoto, cello); Wen 29 (Mari Adachi, viola); Petit fragment de paysage(Ko Ishikawa, u; Seiko Takemoto, cello), live, Tokyo, 2016
Elliott Carter (1908-2012), String Quartet No. 5 (1995); Pacifica Quartet, live, Tokyo, 2004
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The book itself is sort of a perfect metaphor for a human being. It’s got a front and a back, it’s got a spine, and it’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.