Two days ago, I followed my friends for a movie called "Winter Sleep". It was a foreign film centering around characters who would talk about normality and argue incessantly over what would seem mundane at times. The focus of the story was thereby not so much on the surroundings, rather the conversations that felt so human from time to time, and the symbolism that effects the tone of the movie. There were moments in the movie where you felt for both the central characters, the relationship between a man and his wife and as they struggle to find their own role. Their arguments seemed real enough to move you into taking sides while the topic of the argument seemed irrelevant. And somewhere in between those moments , there was a restlessness and helplessness that could not be replaced by any thought or words.
Winter Sleep
I sometimes wish for the bitter things, the arguments that ring in my head,
That doesn't let you be yourself and neither me , become myself instead
I sometimes bother myself with setting you free, somewhere in my mind,
Because you have long gone away from me, it is only your memory that you left behind
The tired man, the withered man, the proud man in silent retreats,
Becomes the best of himself, and yet is temporary and for no one to keep
I write cooped up in my warm study, the couch behind; is where we fight,
We have talked on and on , and refused to win as the morning creeps, we have only lost sight
The winter sleep and the winter as it sleeps both tired as it comes home,
It goes round and round in the white snow outside, it has no place to go alone.
Do you sit outside endlessly, in between laughter you dare not set free,
You have changed yourself, you have found cold inside and out as much as can be
I will never know why we don't find love when we need,
Why we couldn't stand to be what we are, the best of us when we heed
I will only know of heartbreaks and memories of the past,
And I will only dream to be a better man, when no one cares to ask
Though I would hate to argue for any one character, I would be remiss if I say that I could not feel the warmth of the tea that was poured in the glasses, the tea turned cold and yet it is the only escape I see that shared the warmth equally.
Winter Sleep
I sometimes wish for the bitter things, the arguments that ring in my head,
That doesn't let you be yourself and neither me , become myself instead
I sometimes bother myself with setting you free, somewhere in my mind,
Because you have long gone away from me, it is only your memory that you left behind
The tired man, the withered man, the proud man in silent retreats,
Becomes the best of himself, and yet is temporary and for no one to keep
I write cooped up in my warm study, the couch behind; is where we fight,
We have talked on and on , and refused to win as the morning creeps, we have only lost sight
The winter sleep and the winter as it sleeps both tired as it comes home,
It goes round and round in the white snow outside, it has no place to go alone.
Do you sit outside endlessly, in between laughter you dare not set free,
You have changed yourself, you have found cold inside and out as much as can be
I will never know why we don't find love when we need,
Why we couldn't stand to be what we are, the best of us when we heed
I will only know of heartbreaks and memories of the past,
And I will only dream to be a better man, when no one cares to ask
Though I would hate to argue for any one character, I would be remiss if I say that I could not feel the warmth of the tea that was poured in the glasses, the tea turned cold and yet it is the only escape I see that shared the warmth equally.
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