No escribas bajo el imperio de la emoción.
Déjala morir y evócala luego.
Si entonces eres capaz de revivirla tal cual fue,
has llegado en arte a la mitad del camino.
jueves, 18 de diciembre de 2008
lunes, 15 de diciembre de 2008
En memoria de los .....
Pensamientos revolucionarios llenos de sangre,
de llanto y profundo sufrimiento.
Casi puedo apoderarme de su angustia infinita.
Siento una furia infinita que me come el alma.
Desearía destruir a los causantes.
Pero sería entrar en su juego pernicioso y jugar a la ruleta rusa sólo por un instante.
Aún busco y sigo sacudiendo mi cabeza.
Sangre fría, corazón lleno de frases interrogantes.
Cómo pueden decir que el blanco es blanco y el negro es negro.
Eso es un enigma.
El único blanco que conozco es el de la luna que para decir no es blanco sino gris.
Y el negro que conozco es el del cielo en la noche que incluso es azul marino.
A veces pienso que nada es lo que vemos.
Quizás nosotros somos espejismos, obras de arte, experimentos, anomalías de un científico.
Juegos de los dioses, como Atenea; jugando con los mortales, preparando una hecatombe.
Menelao, víctima del designio de los dioses.
Y sólo falta preguntarnos,¿Dónde se ocultará el caballo de Troya?
Debe estar más cerca de lo que nosotros imaginamos.
de llanto y profundo sufrimiento.
Casi puedo apoderarme de su angustia infinita.
Siento una furia infinita que me come el alma.
Desearía destruir a los causantes.
Pero sería entrar en su juego pernicioso y jugar a la ruleta rusa sólo por un instante.
Aún busco y sigo sacudiendo mi cabeza.
Sangre fría, corazón lleno de frases interrogantes.
Cómo pueden decir que el blanco es blanco y el negro es negro.
Eso es un enigma.
El único blanco que conozco es el de la luna que para decir no es blanco sino gris.
Y el negro que conozco es el del cielo en la noche que incluso es azul marino.
A veces pienso que nada es lo que vemos.
Quizás nosotros somos espejismos, obras de arte, experimentos, anomalías de un científico.
Juegos de los dioses, como Atenea; jugando con los mortales, preparando una hecatombe.
Menelao, víctima del designio de los dioses.
Y sólo falta preguntarnos,¿Dónde se ocultará el caballo de Troya?
Debe estar más cerca de lo que nosotros imaginamos.
lunes, 1 de diciembre de 2008
Uno de mis favoritos
ANNABELLE LEE
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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