Luyện nghe bài hát Two Paintings by Nikolai Astrup

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

I can glimpse moments
Gleaming bonfires burning from across the fjord

In a painting around 1915 called
"Midsummer Eve Bonfire" by Nikolai
That shines on my computer screen in 2017 in the July night
The house is finally quiet and still with the child asleep
So I sit and notice the painting of on the hillside
And hanging in the valleys
back up through the fjords at dusk
Offering like scars of mist draped along the
Of couples dancing in the twilight around fires
And in the below,
the reflections of other fires other parties
Illuminate the depths and glitter shining and
is laughing and there is music
And a man climbs up the pulling
a juniper down to throw into the
To make sparks rise up to join the stars
These in the painting believed in magic and earth
And they all knew
And they all came to the

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

I knew her person was gone just me
And like me she looked across at the fires from far away
And something in their light to say:
"Live life, and if you don't
The ground is definitely at any moment to open up again
To you back in
To you back into something useful for somebody"
And above the Norwegians dancing in the twilight
The permanent white snow
You to call me "Neige Éternelle."

The man who painted this big black eyes, gazing
Drawing the fire ourselves standing alone
Nikolai Astrup, he died young at 47
Right after finishing building his at home
Where he probably intended to on
painting his resonant life old age
But people get killed before they get to finish
All the things were going to do

That's why I'm not waiting around
That's why I tell you I love you
Does it even what we leave behind?

I'm flying on an airplane over the Canyon
Imagining strangers through the
of this flight if it were to crash
And would anyone notice or
gathering up my stuff from the below?
Would they investigate the last song I was to?
Would they go through my phone and see the last picture I took
Was of our sleeping daughter early morning
Getting ready to go, and I was by her face
Sweet in the blue light of our dim

Would they the thread back and find her there?
I snapped back out of this crash fantasy still alive
And I know not how it would go
I know the mess that death leaves behind
It just gets bulldozed in a by
the living, over the waterfall
Because that's me now, holding all your
Resisting the inevitable of the archives
The distributed by wind
A life's work just out in the rain
But I'm what I can to
reassemble a poor substitute of you
Made of the and drawings that you left behind
I go though diaries and notebooks at night
I'm still you in me

There's another Nikolai Astrup painting 1920
Called "Foxgloves" that on the fridge
And I look at it morning and every night before bed
Some trees been cut down next to a stream
Flowing a birch brow in late spring
And two girls that look like you gather and baskets
Hunched over like animals, grazing
their red dressed against the
white birch three trunks
Beneath the cluttering
The three stumps in the
remind me everything is fleeting
As if reminding is what I

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