This picture reminded me of a poem by the Russian poet Alexander Blok "The girl sang in the church choir ...".
Easily, light, a little solemn.
The work was done using textured soil and white gold sweat. It is framed and shipped as is.
In the choir of a church a young girl was singing,
Of languishing folk in an alien demesne,
Of ships out at sea lashed by gales harsh and stinging,
Of all those whose joys had been tempered by pain.
Her voice rang on high, soaring up to the dome,
And a ray of white gleamed on her arm’s shadow play,
And those swathed in darkness beheld that pure tone,
As the white of her dress sang its song in the ray.
And each of them felt as if joy were at hand,
As if all harried ships would soon find a safe niche,
As if worn, wearied people in a far distant land
Were bathed in a song with a perfect light pitch.
And the voice was pure sweetness, the ray shone undying,
But perched way up high, on the wall’s narrow berm,
Aware of all Secrets, a child was crying,
For the teeming lost dead who would never return.
Translated by U. R. Bowie
