A writer must “know and have an ever-present consciousness that this world is a world of fools and rogues… tormented with envy, consumed with vanity; selfish, false, cruel, cursed with illusions… He should free himself of all doctrines, theories, etiquettes, politics…” —Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?). “The nobility of the writer's occupation lies in resisting oppression, thus in accepting isolation” —Albert Camus (1913-1960). “What are you gonna do” —Bertha Brown (1895-1987).
Hello darkness my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone 'Neath the halo of a street lamp I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw Ten thousand people maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening People writing songs that voices never share No one dared Disturb the sound of silence
Fools, said I, You do not know Silence like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you But my words like silent raindrops fell; Echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said the words of the prophets Are written on the subway walls And tenement halls, Whispered in the sound of silence.
The Sound of Silence by Paul Simon
ReplyDeleteHello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
Fools, said I, You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words like silent raindrops fell;
Echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls,
Whispered in the sound of silence.