El mundo es una ruta no caminada de palabras y piel; el frío llega a pegarse en las ventanas y aparece inmóvil tirado en el pavimento. Inerte, exhalando sobre mis nostalgias un humo como de cigarro... Hoy me levanté temprano y estaba escuchando una canción que me hace recordar cosas lindas. No lo sé, quizás sea ese vomitar trágico de recuerdos del que mi querido Ladrón de Alientos siempre habla, o sea simplemente que m gusta pensar que todo fue así de fácil alguna vez en mi vida. Y ahora es más emocionante.
Vivan las evoluciones!!
To Myself I Turned
Lacuna Coil
I was born in another world
strictly connected to a piece of my mind
nothing more than a little land
it is a small cradle where I'm a kid
I am the princess in there,
nothing wrong in my fantasy world
I am the king, the nation,
no dictators or religions
no laws laid down for me
I have my own liberty inside of me
nothing to lose, I want to live here
As you see I'm the only survivor in this land
When did I hear this wind before
change like this to a deeper roar?
I'm starting to bleed another way
I just need some time to complete myself
these spotlights are here again
I can't see anything, I'm blind
this nature of time and space
makes me sick of the situation
I couldn't know if I...
if I will be strong enough for this
I have to choose, do I want to live here?
I was born in another world
strictly connected to a piece of my mind
nothing more than a little land
it is a small cradle where I'm a kid
I am the princess in there,
nothing wrong in my fantasy world
I am the king, the nation,
no dictators or religions
no laws laid down for me
I have my own liberty inside of me
nothing to lose, I want to live here
As you see I'm the only survivor in this land
When did I hear this wind before
change like this to a deeper roar?
I'm starting to bleed another way
I just need some time to complete myself
these spotlights are here again
I can't see anything, I'm blind
this nature of time and space
makes me sick of the situation
I couldn't know if I...
if I will be strong enough for this
I have to choose, do I want to live here?
1 comentarios:
Ahora te mando estos poemas... y un beso.
BOTS.
ROBOT FEELINGS
It is curious too, that though the modern man un the street
is a robot, and incapable of love
he is capable of an endless, grinding, nihilistic hate:
that is the only strong feeling he is capable of;
and therein lies the danger of robot-democracy and all the
men in the street,
they move in a great grind of hate, slowly but inevitably.
D. H. Lawrence.
ROBOT DEMOCRACY
In a robot-democracy, nobody is willing to serve
even work is unwilling, the worker is unwilling, unwilling
The great grind of unwillingness, the slow undergrind of hate
and democracy is ground into dust
then the mill stones burst with the internal heat of their own friction.
D. H. Lawrence.
18 de noviembre de 2007 14: 40 hrs
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