Wednesday, August 06, 2008

I am Watching

Ray Bradbury's There Will Come Soft Rains

3 Comments:

Anonymous edmar67 said...

an adaptation indeed. the film and the original story are different in many respects. in bradbury, the family members are not ash remains left on the bed, but shadows imprinted on the walls by the fission blast and radiation,like the phenomenon in Hiroshima. and it's not a bird which causes the final destruction, but the branch of a tree that falls inside causing chemicals to spill and burn up the place. pero mas dramatic itong Uzbekfilm version. The poem is from Sarah Teasdale. read this years ago as a chapter in The Martian Chronicles...

8:27 PM  
Blogger frank cimatu said...

So that was from Tisdale, akala ko kay eecummings. Such soft hands. Well, only Ed M can give you that insight in this side of the woods

10:01 AM  
Anonymous edmar67 said...

Here's the poem again, with a brief explanatory note from the Wikipedia entry. Since this was written by Teasdale in 1920, I doubt if she had any inkling of the all too real possibility of human extinction through the Bomb, which was still twenty years into the future. I am sure she must have been moved to write this poem by the widespread trauma over the devastation (in Europe at least) wrought by the Great War of 1914-1917, her own time. But timeless as it is, the poem is poignantly appropriated by Bradbury for his post-atomic war scenario of 2026.
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From Wikipedia:
There Will Come Soft Rains is a short 12-line poem by Sara Teasdale written in 1920. The poem deals with nature reclaiming the earth after the disappearance of the human race, and the small overall impact humanity left on the planet. It illustrates the unimportance of humans. The poem reads:

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

___________________________________
soft, indeed, but stark and sobering... e:D

11:00 AM  

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