Rūmī was a thirteenth century poet, theologian and mystic. By his mid 20’s he had become an accomplished and highly influential figure in the community. However, a chance meeting with an eccentric dervish by the name of Shams Tabrīz, who was in search of a master student, would cause him to walk away from his life of privilege forever. And the world would never be the same. Who Says Words with My Mouth All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there. This drunkenness began in some other tavern. When I get back around to that place, I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile, I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary. The day is coming when I fly off, but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice? Who says words with my mouth? Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks. I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way. Whoever brought me here will have to take me home. This poetry, I never know what I'm going to say. I don't plan it. When I'm outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all. Shams Trabrizi, If I could see your face again I could flee the imposition of this life Translated & recited by: Coleman Barks Footage: A Trip Down Market Street Before the Fire 1905 Producer unknown Archival film materials from the collections of the Library of Congress Music: Claire De Lune / Composers: Brandenburg, Helmuth Debussy, Claude A Project Shift production - www.Project-Shift.com All rights reserved

In this poem, Antonio Machado reveals the depths of his spiritual and inner life. His powerful and evocative language captivates the reader, drawing them into his world. Interestingly, his first major publication, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, remains his most popular work. Its release caused something of a stir—Machado was just 19 years old when he wrote it. In this piece, his use of metaphor is unrestrained, offering a vivid glimpse into the rich inner landscape he inhabited and so skillfully conveyed to his audience. Machado’s passion for poetry began at an early age, but it blossomed in his late teens as he moved within creative and intellectual circles. He was deeply influenced by the Bohemians and symbolist poets in Madrid and Paris, as well as by the Generation of ’98—a group of novelists, poets, and philosophers dedicated to the cultural renewal of Spain. What set Machado apart was his remarkable ability to absorb the many literary movements spreading through Europe and transform them into a voice uniquely his own. His early poetry is characterized by a free-form style, rich in metaphor and imbued with memory and dreamlike imagery—a reflection of both his personal journey and the artistic spirit of his time. Last Night as I was Sleeping Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that a spring was breaking out in my heart. I said: Along which secret aqueduct, Oh water, are you coming to me, water of a new life that I have never drunk? Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures. Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that a fiery sun was giving light inside my heart. It was fiery because I felt warmth as from a hearth, and sun because it gave light and brought tears to my eyes. Last night as I slept, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that it was God I had here inside my heart. Translated by: Robert Bly Recited by: Robert Bly Footage: Various Music: Drone Five / Composers: Hoppe, Michael; Tillmann, Martin; Wheater, Tim A Project Shift production - www.Project-Shift.com All rights reserved

In this classic poem by Langston Hughes, we feel both the pride he held for his people and the sorrow he carried for the hardships they endured. The imagery paired with his powerful words evokes the spirit of the Harlem Renaissance—a pivotal era when Black America began to fully assert its voice and identity within the broader, often conflicted, narrative of the American experiment. It was a time when even white America could no longer ignore the richness, depth, and beauty of Black culture. Hughes came from a lineage that reflected the painful contradictions of American history. Both of his paternal great-grandmothers were enslaved African Americans, while both of his great-grandfathers were white slave owners. With his parents frequently absent, it was his grandmother—one of the first African American women to graduate from college in the United States—who raised him. She became the guiding force in his life, instilling in him a deep sense of racial pride and a calling to uplift his community. Hughes’s poetry captures the full emotional landscape of working-class Black life in America—its struggles, its joys, and its resilience. He emerged as a leading voice of the Harlem Renaissance, the intellectual, artistic, and cultural awakening of the 1920s. Perhaps most enduringly, he helped achieve one of the movement’s core goals: the creation of authentic African American forms of expression, exemplified in his groundbreaking innovation, “jazz poetry.” The Weary Blues Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway. . . . He did a lazy sway. . . . To the tune o’ those Weary Blues. With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made that poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming from a black man’s soul. O Blues! In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan— “Ain’t got nobody in all this world, Ain’t got nobody but ma self. I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’ And put ma troubles on the shelf.” Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more— “I got the Weary Blues And I can’t be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And can’t be satisfied— I ain’t happy no mo’ And I wish that I had died.” And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon. The singer stopped playing and went to bed While the Weary Blues echoed through his head. He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead. Recited by: Allen Dwight Callahan Footage: Moon Over Harlem / Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer Rhythm & Blues Revue / Directed by Joseph Kohn, Leonard Reed Music: Groovy Drums / Composer: Pagnini, Umberto ST James Infirmary / Composers: Lenart, Paul; Novick, Bill A Project Shift production - www.Project-Shift.com All rights reserved