Aquí está la sombra de ésta mañana que si amanece, el Sol salió al fin antes de que abriera los ojos, y sin frío me levanté tranquila. Como me hacía falta ya dormir, mis manos frías se enredan entre las cobijas; mis piernas quieren levantarse, y pienso en las letras, en la pasión y el el tiempo libre. Gatos ávidos de locuras imaginarias, y personas que piensan hoy en el suicidio, extraño poco lo que no calienta y escribiré otra de esas cosas que empecé hace meses y no había pasado en limpio.
If...
If you try my words, you'll find it doesn't lie.
I want you to be by mi side...
In the dead roads of your losen eyes
I want to write you, described.
Feed the thunder and the tourmentous disease.
feel the rain and the lament of ill...
If you try my mouth, is easy to be
the madness, the time
and the unconciuos calm.
I bring you all my words,
I show you all my world
If you try my hands you'll find the cold,
the warm.
This surrealistic mornig
with tones of your own.
I bring you my soul...
Hold on it, don't break it
i wait you
if you are waiting
2 comentarios:
Wonderful creature in the middle of this nonsensical and awful world!
There´s almost nothin\' else to add to your words. Wisely ambitious woman! Your talent is limitless. Perhaps you realize that. Perhaps you know it. But perhaps not. And if you don´t realize it, if you don\'t know it, then I am and I´ll be here just to remind it to you. Always, yes.
Yours, yours mi beloved.
Boots-Willis
Ahora permíteme ofrecerte un ejemplo de una obra maestra de la poesía norteamericana de la segunda mitad del siglo XX ¡DISFRÚTALA!
BOTS.
GATES OF EDEN
Of war and peace the truth just twistsIts curfew gull just glidesUpon four-legged forest cloudsThe cowboy angel ridesWith his candle lit into the sunThough its glow is waxed in blackAll except when \'neath the trees of EdenThe lamppost stands with folded armsIts iron claws attachedTo curbs \'neath holes where babies wailThough it shadows metal badgeAll and all can only fallWith a crashing but meaningless blowNo sound ever comes from the Gates of EdenThe savage soldier sticks his head in sandAnd then complainsUnto the shoeless hunter who\'s gone deafBut still remainsUpon the beach where hound dogs bayAt ships with tattooed sailsHeading for the Gates of EdenWith a time-rusted compass bladeAladdin and his lampSits with Utopian hermit monksSide saddle on the Golden CalfAnd on their promises of paradiseYou will not hear a laughAll except inside the Gates of EdenRelationships of ownershipThey whisper in the wingsTo those condemned to act accordinglyAnd wait for succeeding kingsAnd I try to harmonize with songsThe lonesome sparrow singsThere are no kings inside the Gates of EdenThe motorcycle black madonnaTwo-wheeled gypsy queenAnd her silver-studded phantom causeThe gray flannel dwarf to screamAs he weeps to wicked birds of preyWho pick up on his bread crumb sinsAnd there are no sins inside the Gates of EdenThe kingdoms of ExperienceIn the precious wind they rotWhile paupers change possessionsEach one wishing for what the other has gotAnd the princess and the princeDiscuss what\'s real and what is notIt doesn\'t matter inside the Gates of EdenThe foreign sun, it squints uponA bed that is never mineAs friends and other strangersFrom their fates try to resignLeaving men wholly, totally freeTo do anything they wish to do but dieAnd there are no trials inside the Gates of EdenAt dawn my lover comes to meAnd tells me of her dreamsWith no attempts to shovel the glimpseInto the ditch of what each one meansAt times I think there are no wordsBut these to tell what\'s trueAnd there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden.
Bob Dylan (1965)
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