V and RapMon from BTS released a song they made
leading up to BTS festa (i.e. their anniversary celebrations),
and this song called 4 o'clock pulled so much at my heartstrings,
I couldn't not post about it.
V's deep, soulful voice adds to the haunting quality of this piece
and seriously makes me want to cry.
And just like Spring Day, it is not an outright sad song,
but a melancholic yet hopeful one that speaks so much of what life is.
It's about finding quiet moments away from the cacophony of our lives
to find peace in the quiet of mornings
with special persons, with whom pain is forgotten.
And may each of us have at least one of those.
At a dusky park
A nameless bird that sings
Where are you?
Oh you...
Why are you crying?
You and I are the only ones here
Me and you
Oh you...
---
A fan commented that the song reminded her of the Darkling Thrush,
and my, isn't this poem another lovely piece.
It's obvious that I am drawn to melancholia; and I remember writing some time last year,
whilst I was whiling away the beautifully quiet and peaceful nights in the tiny town of Plockton,
how the colour of my soul would be blue-green -- a calm bordering on melancholy.
Isn't this interesting: Melancholy as an Aesthetic Emotion per se. Reading this article seems to connect and explain the various pieces that make up who I am, I feel: reflective, imaginative, narrative-loving, solitude-prone, and my love for the Scottish highlands.
Solitude facilitates the imaginative reflection involved in melancholy. Imagination's role in melancholy is twofold. First, imagination makes associations between a present and past experience, and in this sense it has a role in causing melancholy. It connects a quiet beach to an evening stroll with a lover, or a Scottish landscape with the sound of bagpipes. Secondly, imagination is used to embellish or fantasize around the memories of melancholy, perhaps imagining our return to some place. Through fancy, imagination extends memories in a way that deepens reflection, and in turn this deepens the feeling. In these cases it is imagination, drawing significantly on memory, which provides the narrative in which melancholy is anchored.
Besides my other numerous circle of acquaintances
I have one more intimate confidant -- my melancholy.
In the midst of my joy,
in the midst of my work,
she waves to me,
calls me to one side,
even though physically I stay put.
My melancholy is the most faithful mistress I have known,
what wonder, then, that I love her in return.
Søren Kierkegaard
The Darkling Thrush
Related Poem Content Details
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
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