Narrow Road To The Inner Region 奥の細道: Words, Images and Sounds on the Way
Images and video by Oleg Yuzefpolsky
This series, “Narrow Road To The Inner Region 奥の細道,” is dedicated with Love to, and blessed and inspired by, the Mighty Himalayas herself and her beautiful people. “Narrow Road” is also an homage to the poet Matsuo Basho, a dear inspiration whose poetic travelogues have guided people like me for the past 300 years. In this way, through my visual travelogues, creative energies of ancient East converge with the musical drive of today’s world and bring Inspiration and Awe to my heart. I hope you feel it too.
Episode 2: Walking through Bhutan
On the forest road that sees
More butterflies than humans,
The only signs of the right path
Are the fresh blood-drops on grey stones
From horse’s wounded nose.
In this small village of running water,
My only night companions are
A lonely wondering horse and
7/8th of a bright moon.
If you meet a “stranger” on the road –
You have a long way to go.
It is the unknown, the darkness
That changes us.
It brings out every thing that
Lays hidden inside of us.
There is no better way to face it –
The treasures are to be discovered.
If not knowing will become
Your staple food,
You just might know
The greatest taste of life.
When I came to visit my friend
In his hill-top temple,
The wind blew wildly.
There was a bow, an arrow,
A bone and a wooden phallus
Left at the altar.
I laughed loudly and drops of rain
Joined the mesmerizing tone of prayer bell.
I fell asleep under the breeze of a huge tree
Right outside his temple.
My friend died 400 years ago,
I will be born 400 years later.
In the early morning
In this tiny village,
A mad woman is playing with four kittens.
A drop of water is hanging from
Last night’s laundry,
High mountain in snow –
Perfection holds bliss.
On my second night
At this slum house,
I was neither disgusted by, nor
Scared of the squeaking rats –
I wanted to feed them.
The massive white-stone fortress
Has five hanging bee-hives
right under its roof –
If you are still doubting whether
There is a Life inside the stone –
You haven’t lived yet yourself.
Unintentionally, while walking,
I tore spider’s translucent web
And was immediately faced with
Fragility of my own dreams.
Underneath prayer flags
Dedicated to victims of wars and genocide,
Young monk was angrily
Throwing stones at a sparrow.