Son las 7:35 de la mañana. El Lugar más frío del país es La Quiaca, con 6 grados bajo cero de temperatura.
Me levanté con DNI brasilero. Todo se está poniendo brasilero.
Me di cuenta en Bellagamba hace un par de días; paradójicamente, alrededor de retratos de gardel y trastos nacionales de principios de siglo XX. En el centro del salón había una mesa enorme, poblada de gente de todas las edades. Hablaban en portugués a los gritos. No alcanzaba a escuchar lo que se decía en mi mesa y asentía a todo lo que me decían. A los brasileros los escuchaba perfectamente. No me culpo por la indiferencia hacia mi mesa, porque el espectáculo recién se estaba gestando, algo diferente estaba siendo sacado con pinzas y llorando a los gritos.
Sin motivo alguno, desde la mesa dominante empezaron a surgir palmas. Al principio, palmas tibias, perofueron creciendo hasta que las decenas de manos empezaron a arder.Después empezaron a bailar, y algunos, además de bailar, empezaron a cantar. Eran las 19:35 de la tarde de un miércoles.
La barra del lugar demagógicamente empezó a pasar temas brasileros. Más leña al fuego. El baile y las palmas ya no eran más espontáneas, sino legitimadas por el porteñísimo Bellagamba. El resto del bar siguió el espectáculo con afectada indiferencia, salvo un par de valientes que quisieron sumar sus palmas a las de los brasileros, pero no tardaron en darse cuenta de lo ridículo del intento, y desistieron.
Son las 7:48 de la mañana y está sonando Menina Flor, a unas 50 cuadras de distancia, y estoy buscando desesperadamente a Ivete Sangalo.
jueves, 29 de julio de 2010
miércoles, 21 de julio de 2010
actividad
Quizás sea cuestionable que las últimas entradas hayan sido copy/paste. Me voy a defender. Llega tarde la defensa porque se puede rastrear lo hecho últimamente a lo largo de la los 2 o 3 años del blog, pero llega.
El blog estuvo con muy poco movimiento en los últimos meses. No es mi intención de activarlo a cualquier costo con estos préstamos. En los últimos meses me fue muy difícil sentarme a trabajar. Entonces, decidí "hablar" por otros medios, ya que estoy afónico. Ezra Pound y Tom Jobim están tomando la posta; dicen lo que dicen a mi modo y a mi forma, corto lo que quiero y ahí se manifiesta mi intencionalidad. Recortando tal o cual cosa de ellos estoy "apropiando" sus voces como propias, sin dejar de ser voces ajenas. Así sucedió muchas veces que textos, canciones, etc. de distinta procedencia se superpusiesen en el blog.
Puede leerse como una justificación de la pereza. Pero no lo es: cuando tenga voz, voy a hablar; mientras, me van a ayudar.
La apuesta sigue: navegamos sin sentido entre éxitos y fracasos. No importa; son anecdóticos. La clave es que exista y mientras exista, vamos a seguir. Es lo único importante, lo único que vale la pena.
Hasta la próxima, ¡y que pueda ser pronto!
El blog estuvo con muy poco movimiento en los últimos meses. No es mi intención de activarlo a cualquier costo con estos préstamos. En los últimos meses me fue muy difícil sentarme a trabajar. Entonces, decidí "hablar" por otros medios, ya que estoy afónico. Ezra Pound y Tom Jobim están tomando la posta; dicen lo que dicen a mi modo y a mi forma, corto lo que quiero y ahí se manifiesta mi intencionalidad. Recortando tal o cual cosa de ellos estoy "apropiando" sus voces como propias, sin dejar de ser voces ajenas. Así sucedió muchas veces que textos, canciones, etc. de distinta procedencia se superpusiesen en el blog.
Puede leerse como una justificación de la pereza. Pero no lo es: cuando tenga voz, voy a hablar; mientras, me van a ayudar.
La apuesta sigue: navegamos sin sentido entre éxitos y fracasos. No importa; son anecdóticos. La clave es que exista y mientras exista, vamos a seguir. Es lo único importante, lo único que vale la pena.
Hasta la próxima, ¡y que pueda ser pronto!
Elis y Tom
Genios.
Calling the Tune
Which are the best Brazilian songs ever? Seven among
the 10 best were composed by Tom Jobim, according to
a panel of experts. The big winner: Águas de Março.
Elma Lia Nascimento
More than 200 Brazilian journalists, musicians and cultural icons were asked to name their three favorite national tunes starting in 1917 when "Pelo Telefone" (On the Phone), the first Brazilian samba, was recorded by Donga. "Which is the all-time best Brazilian song?" was the question presented. Voters were told to consider among other items melody, lyrics, some historical reason, and even sentimental motives. The stunt was promoted by Folha de São Paulo, Brazil’s most read daily newspaper.
If your own personal list included Tom Jobim (1927-1994), you will be glad to know that seven of Jobim’s songs made the ten most cited tunes. Jobim’s "Águas de Março", from 1972, was the champion, but his name was also remembered for "Chega de Saudade" (3rd place, from 1958), "Retrato em Branco e Preto" (6th place, 1968) and "Garota de Ipanema" (7th place, 1963). Jobim was again considered for "Corcovado" (1960) and "Desafinado" (1958, a tie in 9th place) and "Wave (Vou Te Contar)" (1967, 10th place).
Tom Jobim had 32 of his songs cited, the most songs any author had mentioned. Composer Chico Buarque de Hollanda had the same number of tunes remembered. Surprisingly, according to this criterion, Jorge Ben came in second with 22 tunes mentioned. Only his 1963 song "Mas que Nada", however, won enough votes to be included among the 10 most memorable songs. No song was cited in his most recent phase after changing his name to Jorge Ben Jor. Caetano Veloso had 20 compositions mentioned, which gave him the third place in this category.
In 1999, a search for the best Brazilian song of all times promoted by Globo TV Network found that Ary Barroso’s "Aquarela do Brasil" ("Brazil") was the favorite. This time the results were less chauvinistic. Jobim, with a total of 110 mentions, came well ahead of the second most cited composer, Chico Buarque, who got 69 nods. Vinicius de Moraes (48 mentions) came in third for his collaborations with Jobim, Chico Buarque, Baden Powell, Carlos Lyra, Edu Lobo and Toquinho. Caetano Veloso and Jorge Ben tied in fourth place with 34 citations. The fifth place went to Roberto and Erasmo Carlos, a duo famous for their romantic ballads. They were remembered 24 times by the illustrious panel of voters.
Interestingly enough, the most memorable "Águas de Março" interpretation, which serves as reference for all the other versions, is the one sung by the duet Elis & Tom. Elis Regina didn’t like Tom Jobim and didn’t hide her dislike for the maestro whom she called "a bore", "dim-witted", and "old fogey" in the backstage, in 1974, when the Elis & Tom LP was being recorded. Elis, however, needed to revitalize a career that was being derailed by bad press from critics who were demanding more sophistication from her. The partnership with old Tom made the trick for her.
"Águas de Março" appeared on a super brief venture of alternative tabloid Pasquim into the music business. The nonconformist publication in 1972 decided to release simple compacts—a record with a song on each side of the old vinyl disc—to reveal new talents. To guarantee success for the record, their proposal was to release on the other side of the disc an unpublished tune by a famous composer. The new composers were rookies João Bosco and Aldir Blanc with "Agnus Dei". Jobim became their godfather in the recording, with "Águas de Março". There would be only one more release in the collection: that of Fagner being presented by Caetano Veloso.
Women were barely mentioned in this selection. Rita Lee is the first woman to show up in the list. The feisty rocker was mentioned 15 times what guaranteed her an 11th place together with samba composer Cartola. Besides Lee, only Chiquinha Gonzaga and Dolores Duran were remembered. They showed up at the bottom of the list with four mentions each. A big name like Maysa was never mentioned. More recent composers like Marisa Monte, Adriana Calcanhotto, and Zélia Duncan also were snubbed.
Talking for her colleagues, Rita Lee offered some explanation for this oversight: "Women are quantitatively less present in several areas. Only recently we started appearing while patriarchy exists for centuries. Chiquinha Gonzaga is from a time when men would say, "Music is man’s occupation". Dolores Duran was from a time when guys would say, "Women who compose are whores." I’m from a time when Tubby’s Boy's Only Clubhouse used to say, "To make rock you ought to have balls." Cássia Eller is from a time when people say, "You need to be a macho-woman to make music like a man." My granddaughter will be from a time when they will say, "Only a woman could make such a good song."
You can listen to Jobim interpreting his own song while following the lyrics and translation below:
Águas de Março
"É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho
É um caco de vidro,
é a vida, é o sol
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol
É peroba do campo,
é o nó da madeira
Caingá candeia,
é o matita-pereira
É madeira de vento,
tombo da ribanceira
É o mistério profundo,
é o queira ou não queira
É o vento ventando,
é o fim da ladeira
É a viga, é o vão,
festa da cumeeira
É a chuva chovendo,
é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março,
é o fim da canseira
É o pé, é o chão,
é a marcha estradeira
Passarinho na mão,
pedra de atiradeira
É uma ave no céu,
é uma ave no chão
É um regato, é uma fonte,
é um pedaço de pão
É o fundo do poço,
é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto,
é um pouco sozinho
É um estrepe, é um prego,
é uma ponta, é um ponto
É um pingo pingando,
é uma conta, é um conto
É um peixe, é um gesto,
é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã,
é o tijolo chegando
É a lenha, é o dia,
é o fim da picada
É a garrafa de cana,
o estilhaço na estrada
É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama
É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um resto de mato,
na luz da manhã
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração
É uma cobra, é um pau,
é João, é José
É um espinho na mão,
é um corte no pé
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração
É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho
É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um belo horizonte,
é uma febre terçã
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração"
Waters of March
It's stick, it's stone
It's the end of the road
It's a rest of stump
It's a little alone
It's a shard of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's the snare, it's the fishhook
It's peroba of the field
It’s the knot in the wood
Lamp caingá tree
It's the matita-pereira tree
It's wind-resistant wood
Falls of the ravine
It's the profound mystery
It's the you wish or you don’t
It's the wind blowing
It's the end of the slope
It's the beam, it's the span
The new roof party
It's the rain raining
It’s riverbank talk
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the struggle
It's the foot, it's the ground
It's the walk on the road
Small bird in the hand
A slingshot stone
It’s a bird in the sky
It’s a bird on the ground
It's a creek, it's a fountain
It's a piece of bread
It's the bottom of the well
It's the end of the way
In the face the annoyance
It's a little lonely
It's a thorn, it's a nail
It's a point, it’s a dot
It's a drop dripping
It's an tally, it’s a tale
It's a fish, it’s a gesture
It's silver shining
It's the morning’s light
It's the brick arriving
It's the firewood, it's the day
It's the end of the trail
It's the bottle of liquor
Splinter in the road
It’s the house’s design
It's the body in bed
It's the broken down car
It's the mud, it's the mud
It's a footstep, it's a bridge
It's a toad, it's a frog
It's a rest of brush
In the morning’s light
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
It's a snake, it’s a stick
It's John, it's Joseph
It's a thorn in the hand
It's the cut on the foot
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
It's stick, it's stone
It's the end of the road
It's a rest of stump
It's a little alone
It's a footstep, a bridge
It's a toad, it's a frog
It's a beautiful horizon
It’s a tertian fever
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
Jobim himself re-wrote these lyrics for the English version. It's a whole new poem:
Waters of March
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope
And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart
The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone
A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow
The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night
A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud
Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe
A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain
A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart
A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road
A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.
Calling the Tune
Which are the best Brazilian songs ever? Seven among
the 10 best were composed by Tom Jobim, according to
a panel of experts. The big winner: Águas de Março.
Elma Lia Nascimento
More than 200 Brazilian journalists, musicians and cultural icons were asked to name their three favorite national tunes starting in 1917 when "Pelo Telefone" (On the Phone), the first Brazilian samba, was recorded by Donga. "Which is the all-time best Brazilian song?" was the question presented. Voters were told to consider among other items melody, lyrics, some historical reason, and even sentimental motives. The stunt was promoted by Folha de São Paulo, Brazil’s most read daily newspaper.
If your own personal list included Tom Jobim (1927-1994), you will be glad to know that seven of Jobim’s songs made the ten most cited tunes. Jobim’s "Águas de Março", from 1972, was the champion, but his name was also remembered for "Chega de Saudade" (3rd place, from 1958), "Retrato em Branco e Preto" (6th place, 1968) and "Garota de Ipanema" (7th place, 1963). Jobim was again considered for "Corcovado" (1960) and "Desafinado" (1958, a tie in 9th place) and "Wave (Vou Te Contar)" (1967, 10th place).
Tom Jobim had 32 of his songs cited, the most songs any author had mentioned. Composer Chico Buarque de Hollanda had the same number of tunes remembered. Surprisingly, according to this criterion, Jorge Ben came in second with 22 tunes mentioned. Only his 1963 song "Mas que Nada", however, won enough votes to be included among the 10 most memorable songs. No song was cited in his most recent phase after changing his name to Jorge Ben Jor. Caetano Veloso had 20 compositions mentioned, which gave him the third place in this category.
In 1999, a search for the best Brazilian song of all times promoted by Globo TV Network found that Ary Barroso’s "Aquarela do Brasil" ("Brazil") was the favorite. This time the results were less chauvinistic. Jobim, with a total of 110 mentions, came well ahead of the second most cited composer, Chico Buarque, who got 69 nods. Vinicius de Moraes (48 mentions) came in third for his collaborations with Jobim, Chico Buarque, Baden Powell, Carlos Lyra, Edu Lobo and Toquinho. Caetano Veloso and Jorge Ben tied in fourth place with 34 citations. The fifth place went to Roberto and Erasmo Carlos, a duo famous for their romantic ballads. They were remembered 24 times by the illustrious panel of voters.
Interestingly enough, the most memorable "Águas de Março" interpretation, which serves as reference for all the other versions, is the one sung by the duet Elis & Tom. Elis Regina didn’t like Tom Jobim and didn’t hide her dislike for the maestro whom she called "a bore", "dim-witted", and "old fogey" in the backstage, in 1974, when the Elis & Tom LP was being recorded. Elis, however, needed to revitalize a career that was being derailed by bad press from critics who were demanding more sophistication from her. The partnership with old Tom made the trick for her.
"Águas de Março" appeared on a super brief venture of alternative tabloid Pasquim into the music business. The nonconformist publication in 1972 decided to release simple compacts—a record with a song on each side of the old vinyl disc—to reveal new talents. To guarantee success for the record, their proposal was to release on the other side of the disc an unpublished tune by a famous composer. The new composers were rookies João Bosco and Aldir Blanc with "Agnus Dei". Jobim became their godfather in the recording, with "Águas de Março". There would be only one more release in the collection: that of Fagner being presented by Caetano Veloso.
Women were barely mentioned in this selection. Rita Lee is the first woman to show up in the list. The feisty rocker was mentioned 15 times what guaranteed her an 11th place together with samba composer Cartola. Besides Lee, only Chiquinha Gonzaga and Dolores Duran were remembered. They showed up at the bottom of the list with four mentions each. A big name like Maysa was never mentioned. More recent composers like Marisa Monte, Adriana Calcanhotto, and Zélia Duncan also were snubbed.
Talking for her colleagues, Rita Lee offered some explanation for this oversight: "Women are quantitatively less present in several areas. Only recently we started appearing while patriarchy exists for centuries. Chiquinha Gonzaga is from a time when men would say, "Music is man’s occupation". Dolores Duran was from a time when guys would say, "Women who compose are whores." I’m from a time when Tubby’s Boy's Only Clubhouse used to say, "To make rock you ought to have balls." Cássia Eller is from a time when people say, "You need to be a macho-woman to make music like a man." My granddaughter will be from a time when they will say, "Only a woman could make such a good song."
You can listen to Jobim interpreting his own song while following the lyrics and translation below:
Águas de Março
"É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho
É um caco de vidro,
é a vida, é o sol
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol
É peroba do campo,
é o nó da madeira
Caingá candeia,
é o matita-pereira
É madeira de vento,
tombo da ribanceira
É o mistério profundo,
é o queira ou não queira
É o vento ventando,
é o fim da ladeira
É a viga, é o vão,
festa da cumeeira
É a chuva chovendo,
é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março,
é o fim da canseira
É o pé, é o chão,
é a marcha estradeira
Passarinho na mão,
pedra de atiradeira
É uma ave no céu,
é uma ave no chão
É um regato, é uma fonte,
é um pedaço de pão
É o fundo do poço,
é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto,
é um pouco sozinho
É um estrepe, é um prego,
é uma ponta, é um ponto
É um pingo pingando,
é uma conta, é um conto
É um peixe, é um gesto,
é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã,
é o tijolo chegando
É a lenha, é o dia,
é o fim da picada
É a garrafa de cana,
o estilhaço na estrada
É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama
É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um resto de mato,
na luz da manhã
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração
É uma cobra, é um pau,
é João, é José
É um espinho na mão,
é um corte no pé
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração
É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho
É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um belo horizonte,
é uma febre terçã
São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração"
Waters of March
It's stick, it's stone
It's the end of the road
It's a rest of stump
It's a little alone
It's a shard of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's the snare, it's the fishhook
It's peroba of the field
It’s the knot in the wood
Lamp caingá tree
It's the matita-pereira tree
It's wind-resistant wood
Falls of the ravine
It's the profound mystery
It's the you wish or you don’t
It's the wind blowing
It's the end of the slope
It's the beam, it's the span
The new roof party
It's the rain raining
It’s riverbank talk
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the struggle
It's the foot, it's the ground
It's the walk on the road
Small bird in the hand
A slingshot stone
It’s a bird in the sky
It’s a bird on the ground
It's a creek, it's a fountain
It's a piece of bread
It's the bottom of the well
It's the end of the way
In the face the annoyance
It's a little lonely
It's a thorn, it's a nail
It's a point, it’s a dot
It's a drop dripping
It's an tally, it’s a tale
It's a fish, it’s a gesture
It's silver shining
It's the morning’s light
It's the brick arriving
It's the firewood, it's the day
It's the end of the trail
It's the bottle of liquor
Splinter in the road
It’s the house’s design
It's the body in bed
It's the broken down car
It's the mud, it's the mud
It's a footstep, it's a bridge
It's a toad, it's a frog
It's a rest of brush
In the morning’s light
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
It's a snake, it’s a stick
It's John, it's Joseph
It's a thorn in the hand
It's the cut on the foot
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
It's stick, it's stone
It's the end of the road
It's a rest of stump
It's a little alone
It's a footstep, a bridge
It's a toad, it's a frog
It's a beautiful horizon
It’s a tertian fever
They are the waters of March
Closing the summer
It's the promise of life
In your heart
Jobim himself re-wrote these lyrics for the English version. It's a whole new poem:
Waters of March
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope
And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart
The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone
A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow
The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night
A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud
Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe
A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain
A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart
A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road
A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.
sábado, 17 de julio de 2010
Del quinto a PB
Cayó en mi camino como traída por el huracán.
Las noticias sobre el tsunami ya me habían hartado. "Desastre natural"; nadie se anima y nadie lo dice: la naturaleza es un desastre. Como ella, como yo, como mi suerte. El huracán no deja de ser un desastre, tanto como lo es una llovizna o un día de calor.
Miento un poco, lo admito. Este huracán es diferente porque la trajo a ella. Yo camino solo, sólo sintiendo un vientito, y ella rueda al lado mío llenándose de tierra; rueda y rueda y no puede hacer pie.
De vez en cuando escucho que dice "no". Mi camino cambia al mismo tiempo que el viento; el hartazgo de todo, el cielo gris, el silbido del viento contra las cosas y el intermitente "no" es el escenario.
¿Y si fuese un tsunami? ¿Yo nadaría y ella sería un aguaviva? ¿Diría "no" o simplemente me picaría?
"El hombre rebelde es aquel que dice "no"", pensé. Es la mujer rebelde, digna de admiración, la que cambió el mundo, la que es llevada por el viento junto con "no" a intervalos perfectamente calculados; quizás por eso, no me pueda sacar ese "no" de la cabeza.
El viento, en su canto de cisne, al fin se arremolina a mi alrededor, y vuelvo de donde vine: el quinto. Ahí está mi desastre favorito. Veo el de PB como vi por la tele la caída de las torres gemelas y me río, me río mucho. Mi quinto piso no se va a caer. Mi quinto piso apenas roza la naturaleza.
Las noticias sobre el tsunami ya me habían hartado. "Desastre natural"; nadie se anima y nadie lo dice: la naturaleza es un desastre. Como ella, como yo, como mi suerte. El huracán no deja de ser un desastre, tanto como lo es una llovizna o un día de calor.
Miento un poco, lo admito. Este huracán es diferente porque la trajo a ella. Yo camino solo, sólo sintiendo un vientito, y ella rueda al lado mío llenándose de tierra; rueda y rueda y no puede hacer pie.
De vez en cuando escucho que dice "no". Mi camino cambia al mismo tiempo que el viento; el hartazgo de todo, el cielo gris, el silbido del viento contra las cosas y el intermitente "no" es el escenario.
¿Y si fuese un tsunami? ¿Yo nadaría y ella sería un aguaviva? ¿Diría "no" o simplemente me picaría?
"El hombre rebelde es aquel que dice "no"", pensé. Es la mujer rebelde, digna de admiración, la que cambió el mundo, la que es llevada por el viento junto con "no" a intervalos perfectamente calculados; quizás por eso, no me pueda sacar ese "no" de la cabeza.
El viento, en su canto de cisne, al fin se arremolina a mi alrededor, y vuelvo de donde vine: el quinto. Ahí está mi desastre favorito. Veo el de PB como vi por la tele la caída de las torres gemelas y me río, me río mucho. Mi quinto piso no se va a caer. Mi quinto piso apenas roza la naturaleza.
miércoles, 14 de julio de 2010
Canto LXXXI
What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs
or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
The ant's a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity , it is not man
Made courage, or made order, or made grace,
Pull down thy vanity , I say pull down.
Learn of the green world what can be thy place
In scaled invention or true artistry ,
Pull down thy vanity ,
Paquin pull down!
The green casque has outdone your elegance .
'Master thyself, then others shall thee beare'
Pull down thy vanity
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