lunes, diciembre 16, 2013




"...una señal, la traición de una señal, la ficción de una señal..."

P. Vinderman

viernes, noviembre 22, 2013


Sin disco duro...
Dile a Kundera que ya basta de amores ridículos,
que quiero aliñar uno de veras, mío por entero,
con hortalizas que compro en el mercado;
que ya basta de diccionarios para interpretar notas a pie de página, que quiero pancartas con letras mayúsculas.
Dile también que basta de libros y citas y poemas, ¡basta!
Que me lo digan en la acera, con el ruido de la calle,
del autobús que calienta motores, de los músicos disecando canciones,
de las motos avanzando por la izquierda.
Que me lo digan y que lo entienda; como en una ensalada verde -
"No, no, nada de condimentos, ni salsas, no;
tan sólo aceite y sal, para sentirlo todo"-,
donde la lechuga es lechuga,
y la cebolla, cebolla,
y no me hace llorar.


Tina Vallés (Barcelona, España, 1976)

sábado, octubre 26, 2013

Pero soy una esclava del dolor y lo adoro
como adora el avaro el sonido del oro:
oh, terrible tormenta de relámpago y rayo,
en tu fuego revivo, en tu fuego desmayo.


Alfonsina Storni

viernes, octubre 25, 2013

Agnes Obel - Riverside




Down by the river by the boats 
Where everybody goes to be alone 
Where you wont see any rising sun 
Down to the river we will run 

When by the water we drink to the dregs 
Look at the stones on the river bed 
I can tell from your eyes 
You've never been by the Riverside 

Down by the water the riverbed 
Somebody calls you somebody says 
swim with the current and float away 
Down by the river everyday 

Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep 
And I don't know why I go the way 
Down by the Riverside 

When that old river runs pass your eyes 
To wash off the dirt on the Riverside 
Go to the water so very near 
The river will be your eyes and ears 

I walk to the borders on my own 
To fall in the water just like a stone 
Chilled to the marrow in them bones 
Why do I go here all alone 

Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep 
And I don't know why I go the way 
Down by the Riverside

martes, octubre 15, 2013


I wear your dress

This is just to tell you that i wear your dress sometimes
the one you made with the gold brocade and the empire waistline
you fitted to your figure when it looked just like my own
that was jersey in the fifties, and the women stayed at home 

so you laid your paper pattern on the table in between
the silverware and napkins and the harper’s magazines
from a slow suburban season that is nothing but a dream
to your granddaughter 

this is just to tell you that i wear your dress sometimes
i wear it down to the bar in town and dance around all night
talking and joking, swearing and smoking like any stranger in a crowd
and nobody stares, nobody cares to tell me i’m not allowed- i am allowed 

and my body, by the letter of the law, is still my own
when i lay down in the darkness, unburdened and alone
with the liberty you’ve given like the clothing you’ve outgrown
to your granddaughter 

this is just to tell you that i wear your dress sometimes


Anaïs Mitchel

miércoles, agosto 07, 2013

Estás



en el espacio
entre las cosas


by Celezul

Candles

That boy, take me away, into the night
Out of the hum of the street lights and into a forest

I'll do whatever you say to me in the dark
Scared I'll be torn apart by a wolf in mask of a familiar name on a birthday card

Blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles
"You're too old to be so shy," he says to me so I stay the night
Just a young heart confusing my mind, but we're both in silence
Wide-eyed, both in silence
Wide-eyed, like we're in a crime scene

Well I have brittle bones it seems
I bite my tongue and torch my dreams
Have a little voice to speak with
And a mind of thoughts and secrecy

Things cannot be reversed, we learn from the times we are cursed
Things cannot be reversed, learn from the ones we fear the worst
And learn from the ones we hate the most

Blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles
"You're too old to be so shy," he says to me so I stay the night
Just a young heart confusing my mind, but we're both in silence
Wide-eyed, both in silence
Wide-eyed

Cause we both know I'll never be your lover
I only bring the heat
Company under cover
Filling space in your sheets

Well I'll never be your lover
I only bring the heat
Company under cover
Filling space in your sheets, in your sheets

So, please just blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles
"You're too old to be so shy," he says to me so I stay the night
It's just a young heart confusing my mind, but we're both in silence

Wide-eyed, both in silence
Wide-eyed, like we're in a crime scene.


Daugther lyrics

lunes, mayo 20, 2013


By tomorrow we'll be swimming with the fishes
Leave out troubles on the side.
And when the sun comes out,
we'll be nothing but dust...

lunes, abril 22, 2013

jueves, abril 18, 2013

Landfill - Daughter


Throw me in a landfill
Don't think about the consequences
Throw me in the dirt pit
Don't think about the choices that you make
Throw me in the water
Don't think about the splash I will create
Leave me at the altar
Knowing all the things you just escaped

Push me out to sea
On a little boat that you made
Out of the evergreen that you helped your father cut away
Leave me on the tracks
To wait until the morning train arrives
Don't you dare look back
Walk away
Catch up with the sunrise


miércoles, abril 10, 2013

La planta de Felisberto

En un momento dado pienso que en un rincón de mí nacerá una planta. La empiezo a acechar creyendo que en ese rincón se ha producido algo raro, pero que podría tener porvenir artístico. Sería feliz si esta idea no fracasara del todo. Sin embargo, debo esperar un tiempo ignorado: no sé cómo hacer germinar la planta ni cómo favorecer, ni cuidar su crecimiento; sólo presiento o deseo que tenga hojas de poesías; o algo que se transforme en poesía si la miran ciertos ojos. Debo cuidar que no ocupe mucho espacio, que no pretenda ser bella o intensa, sino que sea la planta que ella misma esté destinada a ser, y ayudarla a que lo sea. Al mismo tiempo ella crecerá de acuerdo a un contemplador al que no hará mucho caso si él quiere sugerirle demasiadas intenciones o grandezas. Si es una planta dueña de sí misma tendrá una poesía natural, desconocida por ella misma. Ella debe ser como una persona que vivirá no sabe cuánto, con necesidades propias, con un orgullo discreto, un poco torpe y que parezca improvisado. Ella misma no conocerá sus leyes, aunque profundamente las tenga y la conciencia no las alcance. No sabrá el grado y la manera en que la conciencia intervendrá, pero en última instancia impondrá su voluntad. Y enseñará a la conciencia a ser desinteresada.

Felisberto Hernández (Uruguay, Montevideo, 1902- id., 1964)

irlanda...