Luyện nghe bài hát Two Paintings by Nikolai Astrup

I no one now
Now I say "you"
Now the ground has opened up
Now after you
I what could beacon me forward into the rest of life

I can occasional moments
Gleaming like bonfires burning across the fjord

In a painting from 1915 called
"Midsummer Eve Bonfire" by Astrup
That on my computer screen in 2017 in the awful July night
The is finally quiet and still with the child asleep upstairs
So I sit and notice the painting of bonfires on the
And hanging smoke in the
Wrapping back up the fjords at dusk
Offering like scars of mist draped along the
Of couples dancing in the green around fires
And in the below,
the reflections of other from other parties
the depths and glitter shining and alone
Everyone is laughing and is music
And a man climbs up the hill
a juniper to throw into the fire
To make sparks rise up to join the stars
These people in the painting believed in and earth
And all knew loss
And all came to the fire

I saw myself in this one woman in the foreground
With a look of desolation and a that looked pregnant
As she leaned against the moss of a rock to the side
Apart from all the people midsummer

I knew her person was gone just me
And just like me she looked across at the from far away
And wanted something in their to say:
"Live your life, and if you
The is definitely ready at any moment to open up again
To you back in
To digest you back something useful for somebody"
And meanwhile above the Norwegians dancing in the
The permanent snow gleamed
You to call me "Neige Éternelle."

The man who painted this girl's big black eyes,
Drawing the fire into ourselves alone
Astrup, he also died young at 47
Right finishing building his studio at home
he probably intended to keep on
painting his life into old age
But people get killed before they get to finish
All the things they going to do

why I'm not waiting around anymore
That's why I you that I love you
Does it matter what we leave behind?

I'm flying on an airplane the Grand Canyon
strangers going through the
wreckage of this flight if it to crash
And anyone notice or care
up my stuff from the desert below?
Would they investigate the last song I was to?
Would go through my phone and see the last picture I ever took
Was of our daughter early this morning
Getting ready to go, and I was struck by her
Sweet in the blue of our dim room?

Would they follow the back and find her there?
I snapped back out of this plane crash fantasy alive
And I know that's not how it go
I know the actual mess death leaves behind
It just gets in a panic by
the living, pushed the waterfall
Because me now, holding all your things
Resisting the inevitable flooding of the
The scraps distributed by
A life's work just left out in the
But I'm what I can to
reassemble a poor version of you
Made of the fragments and drawings you left behind
I go though your and notebooks at night
I'm still you in me

There's another Astrup painting from 1920
Called "Foxgloves" hangs on the fridge
And I look at it morning and every night before bed
Some have been cut down next to a stream
Flowing through a birch in late spring
And two girls look like you gather berries and baskets
Hunched over young animals, grazing
With red dressed against the
white three trunks interweaving
Beneath the leaves
The three stumps in the
me that everything is fleeting
As if is what I need

But then the foxgloves
And I that the first flowers that return to disturbed ground
Like logging took place
Or where someone me rolled around wailing in a clearing
Now I don't wonder
If it's significant that all these foxgloves up
On the place where I'm about to build our
And go to in, let you fade in the night air
Surviving what dust is left of you here
Now you will recede into the