Monday, April 4, 2011

Thoughts on Walter Benjamin's essay: The work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

Jean Arp

Andre Derainé_Derain

and poet August Stramm versus poet Rilke

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 A star frightens the steeple cross
a horse gasps smoke
iron clanks drowsily
mists spread
staring shivering

August Stramm

A Walk
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 My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Translated by Robert Bly

Rainer Maria Rilke