Picasso and Russia

https://www.rbth.com/arts/333600-picasso-and-russia

5. Composer Igor Stravinsky

Sketch of Famous Composer Igor Stravinsky by Pablo Picasso.

Sketch of Famous Composer Igor Stravinsky by Pablo Picasso.Bettmann/Getty Images

To prepare the sets and costumes for Parade, Picasso went to Rome, where he met Igor Stravinsky. They became friends, and their soon friendship evolved into professional collaboration when Picasso worked as a designer on Stravinsky’s ballet Pulcinella and painted several portraits of the musician. Stravinsky tried to take one of these with him to Switzerland, but border officials demanded to know what it was and refused to believe that it was a pencil drawing by a famous artist since it looked more like a blueprint. The composer agreed that Picasso’s work was indeed nothing more than a blueprint of his face. In the end, the portrait had to be sent by diplomatic mail through the British Embassy.

The fortunes of us all



 
No words of mine can properly display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse.
We need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better action justly comes
each day the grace we have is just enough
as through the meta narratives we roam

For life' s but a true story we invent,
with passion and with purified intentNo words of mine can properly display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse.
We need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better action justly comes
each day the grace we have is just enough
as through the meta narratives we roam

For life' s but a true story we invent,
with passion and with purified intent

He never!

He said he  never wanted to be me again.
He asked me never to bury him again
None so  blind as those who’re on TV.
I see what you scheme
I’ll catch the late train and be stoned tomorrow
Please deceive me,I won’t know
The last chance will be a horror
To have and to mould ntil wrath us do part.
Until the penalty’s stark
It’s better to have loved the dust
 than never to have loved the balls
Men are in jars, women are in beakers

Never stop before the end
How many men can love me before I fly?

Raining in my heart


I have heard grass singing in the wind
I have walked through poppy fields in sun
I have known how dark gried can descend


I have watched trees’ shadows in deep ponds
I have known the arctic wastes of pain
I have heard grass weeping in the wind.

Another soul is writing with my hand
Yet I have wept while loaning them my pen
I am mangled when sharp rain descends

I have known the edges of the mind
I ‘ve sensed the silence un-contained.
I have heard grass singing in the wind.

I am sad for people who’re confined
I record the old deals of cruel men
I have suffered when dark rain descends

I have caught the storm by camera lens.
I have felt the solar system bend
I have heard grass singing in the wind.
I havewatched the pitch black rain descend