Letters to my daughter, Dawn, who shall live centuries and centuries hence . . .


Do you know Dawn, my daughter, who is not yet born? She would live on this blue wanderer thousands and thousands of years hence when the darkest night of this world would be over and the earth would be rising to sing its first manly aubade after ages of waiting, to the Dawn, and with which the sweetest courtship ever written down in the annals of human lore would begin; and then would follow the season of romancing, celebration, and wooing, and the world would wear a new colour and the most tender music ever sung by man in love would burst from every corner. 

dante-and-beatrice.jpg!HalfHD ‘Dante and Beatrice’ Continue reading


. . . that song . . . of freedom!


declarationCan you conquer pain and smile like a victor in the face of fast-approaching death? Defeating all the crushing defeats, can you stand up again and fight back in such a way that your blood-besmeared face dazzles the enemy with its glow of final victory? Can you sing aloud obstinately the forbidden song of  dawn in the dead of the night? Yes, my soul stoops with respect for those – who dare – who invite the wrath of gods, who challenge the mighty victors to fight a foreordained duel. What if they fall and are ruined in the attempt, success lies in the cause for which one stands, rather than what one achieves.

Do you remember Victor Zara – the man whose soul stood firm before the loaded guns. With every single bone of his mutilated body broken and crushed, he was challenged to sing his beloved song. Would the man writhing in pain sing the song? Yes, he would. He did. He sang again – the song of freedom – and a joy emanated from his heart that defied death – that was his last song. Continue reading