En una estación del metro
La aparición de estos rostros en la multitud;
Pétalos en una rama oscura y húmeda.
Versión de Marcelo Covian
- Erza Pound
Aquí me encuentro, ya llegando a los 200+ followers….en interesante pensar que hay tanta gente que se interese en algo que empecé solo para mi misma en tres idiomas.
Que haya tanto gente de Brasil y de USA following porque yo mayormente escribo en español…gracias por el interes aunque casi nunca siento su presencia, igual, mejor.
Here I am, getting to the 200 plus followers…it’s interesting to think that there is that much people who are interesting in something that I started for myself, and in three languages. Even more than there’s so many people from Brasil and USA folliwing since I mainly write in Spanish…..Thanx for the interest even though I barely feel your there, well, maybe I’m better off.
Aqui estou, já atingindo 200 + seguidores …. interessante pensar que muitas pessoas estão interessadas em algo que eu comecei só para mim em três idiomas.Hà tantos brasileiros e gente de EUA following e eu principalmente escrevo em espanhol… uma sorpresa..… Obrigado pelo interesse embora raramente sento a sua presença, mais, talvez é melhor.
Postcard de Federico Garcia Lorca….la razón del comienzo. A tribute to the beginning with THE POET
On Tears
Tears is the break of my brow,
The moony tempestuous
Sitting downIn dark railyards
When to see my mother’s face
Recalling from the waking vision
I wept to understand
The trap mortality
And personal blood of earth
Which saw me in—Father father
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Mortality & unpleasure
Roam this city—
Unhappiness my middle name
I want to be saved,-
Sunk—can’t be
Won’t be
Never was made—
So retch!
No quiero, triste espíritu, volver…
No quiero, triste espíritu, volver
por los lugares que cruzó mi llanto,
latir secreto entre los cuerpos vivos
como yo también fui.
No quiero recordar
un instante feliz entre tormentos;
goce o pena es igual,
todo es triste al volver.
Aún va conmigo como una luz ajena
aquel destino niño,
aquellos dulces ojos juveniles,
aquella antigua herida.No, no quisiera volver,
sino morir aún más,
arrancar una sombra,
olvidar un olvido.
-Luis Cernuda
Each time I saw him
I couldn’t wait to see him again
I wanted to let him know
That he was more than a friend
I didn’t know just what to do
So I whispered I love you
And he said that he loved me too
And then he kissed me
- The Crystals ”Then he kissed me”
WW2 changed things…..
¨In 1936, more than 80% of Americans believed that women should not work if their husbands had a job and laws were proposed that would prohibit married women from workin¨
I improvised, crazed by the music… Even my teeth and eyes burned with fever. Each time I leaped I seemed to touch the sky and when I regained earth it seemed to be mine alone.
-Josephine Bake
Mas de cien años de colonia; todavía hablamos español y no somos realmente estadounidenses. Seguirá así.
La mancha de platano se queda para siempre.
