Miranda-Richardson

10

“Ten Little Soldier Boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine Little Soldier Boys stayed up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight Little Soldier Boys travelling in Devon; One said he’d stay there and then there were seven.
Seven Little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six Little Soldier Boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Five Little Soldier Boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four.
Four Little Soldier Boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three Little Soldier Boys walking in the zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two Little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One.
One Little Soldier Boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself and then there were none.”

10

Alan and Megan Dodds at the NY premiere of “My Name Is Rachel Corri” 2006, Alan Rickman and Miranda Richardson attend the closing of Marina Abramovic’s “The Artist is Present” 2010, Alan Rickman with Lindsay Duncan, 2002 Tony Awards, Radio City Music Hall, NYC, with  Helen McCrory (2013), Alan with Rachel Hurd-Wood“Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" premiere, 2006, with Christine Baranski at the Public Theater’s Annual Gala, June 2, 2015, Alan Rickman and Sigourney Weaver attend the ’Snow Cake’ premiere Berlinale 2006, with Kate Winslet at “A little Chaos” premiere, with Juliet Stevenson, Jan 30, 2008,  Alan Rickman and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio at premiere “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” (1991)

Poetry
Luis E. Bacalov
Poetry

Miranda Richardson, “Poetry” by Pablo Neruda, The Postman (II Postino) Motion Picture Soundtrack (Hollywood Records, 1995)

And it was at that age … poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was, without a face,
and it touched me.

I didn’t know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind.
And something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first, faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing;
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire, and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose on the wind.

Pablo Neruda, “Poetry,” Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, trans. W.S. Merwin (Penguin Classics, 2004)