warmae

Divendres, 04 de setembre de 2009

Valediction to Life

FAREWEL ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles,
Farewel ye honour’d rags, ye glorious bubbles;
Fame ’s but a hollow echo, gold pure clay,
Honour the darling but of one short day.
Beauty (th’eyes idol) but a damasked skin,
State but a golden prison, to keepe in
And torture free-born minds; imbroidered trains
Meerly but Pageants, proudly swelling vains,
And blood ally’d to greatness, is a loane
Inherited, not purchased, not our own. 10
Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood and birth,
Are but the fading blossomes of the earth.

I would be great, but that the Sun doth still
Level his rayes against the rising hill:
I would be high, but see the proudest Oak
Most subject to the rending Thunder-stroke;
I would be rich, but see men too unkind
Dig in the bowels of the richest mine;
I would be wise, but that I often see
The Fox suspected whilst the *** goes free;
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud;
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy Asse:
Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn’d, if poor;
Great, fear’d; fair, tempted; hight, stil envied more:
I have wish’d all, but now I wish for neither,
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair, poor I’l be rather.

Would the world now adopt me for her heir,
Would beauties Queen entitle me the Fair,
Fame speak me fortune’s Minion, could I vie
Angels with India, with a speaking eye
Command bare heads, bow’d knees, strike Justice dumb
As wel as blind and lame, or give a tongue
To stones, by Epitaphs, be called great Master
In the loose rhimes of every Poetaster;
Could I be more then any man that lives,
Great, fair, rich, wise all in Superlatives;
Yet I more freely would these gifts resign
Then ever fortune would have made them mine,
And hold one minute of this holy leasure,
Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.

Welcom pure thoughts, welcom ye silent groves,
These guests, these Courts, my soul most dearly loves,
Now the wing’d people of the Skie shall sing
My cheerful Anthems to the gladsome Spring;
A Pray’r book now shall be my looking-glasse,
Wherein I will adore sweet vertues face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no Pallace cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears,
Then here I’l sit and sigh my hot loves folly,
And learn t’affect an holy melancholy.
And if contentment be a stranger, then
I’l nere look for it, but in heaven again.

John Donne, from Ignoto

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Dimarts, 19 de maig de 2009

Qualsevol nit pot sortir el sol

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Dimarts, 14 de abril de 2009

Where is my mind?

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Dilluns, 30 de març de 2009

Сердце в руке

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Divendres, 27 de març de 2009

What is Success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Divendres, 27 de març de 2009

Vlad & Evochka moscow 2002-2006

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Divendres, 06 de març de 2009

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

CLICK

Lealtad y amistad, sin medias tintas ni tacañería por favor. Casi nunca leo novelas, sólo relatos cortos, pero este libro, que no es precismaente nuevo, me lo pasó mi madre cuando terminó de leerlo y me lo leí el sábado pasado en una tarde: en el sofá, el metro, el autobús, cenando y de madrugada a la vuelta de un concierto. No tiene desperdicio. De principio a fin, no le sobra un punto ni una coma, y la intensidad está tan bien contenida...

A tree with a bitter seed
Fed with butter and sugar
Will still bear a bitter fruit.
From it, you will taste no sweetness.

Abu Shakur Balkhi (Persian poet)

[El árbol de simiente bueno
siempre dará dulce el fruto
aunque sea regado con veneno
nunca será amargo su jugo]

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Dilluns, 26 de gener de 2009

No matter who you are...

- For more of the funniest videos, click here

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Dissabte, 27 de desembre de 2008

Stream of Life

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Happy People Dancing on Planet Earth
Credit: Matt Harding & Melissa Nixon

Explanation: What are these humans doing? Dancing. Many humans on Earth exhibit periods of happiness, and one method of displaying happiness is dancing. Happiness and dancing transcend political boundaries and occur in practically every human society. Above, Matt Harding traveled through many nations on Earth, started dancing, and filmed the result. The video is perhaps a dramatic example that humans from all over planet Earth feel a common bond as part of a single species. Happiness is frequently contagious -- few people are able to watch the above video without smiling.

Stream of Life
by Rabindranath Tagore

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

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Divendres, 26 de desembre de 2008

Nací para poeta o para muerto

Nací para poeta o para muerto,
escogí lo difícil
-supervivo de todos los naufragios-,
y sigo con mis versos,
vivita y coleando.

Nací para puta o payaso,
escogí lo difícil
-hacer reír a los clientes desahuciados-,
y sigo con mis trucos,
sacando una paloma del refajo.

Nací para nada o soldado,
y escogí lo difícil
-no ser apenas nada en el tablado-,
y sigo entre fusiles y pistolas
sin mancharme las manos.


Gloria Fuertes

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Dimarts, 16 de desembre de 2008

I wish you... a bit of Schubert in your life.

First of all, I wish you love, and that by loving you may also be loved. But if it’s not like that, be brief in forgetting And after you’ve forgotten, don’t keep anything. I wish that wouldn’t happen, but if it does and you forget, you could be a person without desperation.
I also wish you may have a lot of friends, And even if they are bad and inconsequent, They should be brave and true And, at least one of them, should be completely reliable.
But because life is the way it is, I also wish you may have enemies. Not many or too little, just in the right number So that you will have to question your own certainties and truths as well. And may there be among them at least one who is just and fair, So that you can never feel too secure in your ideas.
I wish you may be useful but not irreplaceable And in your bad moments, When you have nothing else, That sense of usefulness will keep you on your feet.
So equally, I wish you to be tolerant, Not with those that make little mistakes, because that is easy, but with those that make a lot of mistakes and can’t help it. And make good use of this tolerance to set an example to others.
I wish that, being young, you don’t mature too quickly And once you’re mature, don’t insist in getting younger. And when you’re old, don’t feel despaired Because each age has its pains and pleasures And we need them both in our lives.
By the way, I wish you to be sad at least one day So on that day you may discover That to laugh everyday is good, To laugh often is boring And to laugh constantly is an illness.
I wish that you may discover With maximum urgency That, above and in spite of everything, There are people around you who are depressed, Unhappy and unjustly treated.
I wish you to caress a cat, To feed a bird and to listen to its chirp as well As it sings triumphantly early in the morning. Because this way you will feel good for no reason.
And then I wish you may sow a seed Even if it is really small. And may you accompany it in its growth. So that you will discover how many lives a tree is made of.
I wish as well that you may have money, because we need to be practical. And that, at least once a year, You put some of this money in front of you and say “This is what life has given me”. So it is very clear who owns who.
Also, I wish none of your loved ones may die, But if some of them do, I wish you may cry without regret and without feeling guilty for the things you never said or the things you never did.
Finally, I wish for you that being a man or being a woman, you may have a good man or a good woman. Tomorrow and the day after.
If all these things whould happen to you, Then I wish for you nothing more.

Por: en | AUSTRIA | Comentarios (1) | Referencias (0)

Dilluns, 01 de desembre de 2008

Geografía humana

Mirad mi continente contenido
brazos, piernas y tronco inmesurado,
pequeños son mis pies, chicas mis manos,
hondos mis ojos, bastante bien mis senos.
Tengo un lago debajo de la frente,
a veces se desborda y por las cuencas,
donde se bañan las niñas de mis ojos,
cuando el llanto me llega hasta las piernas
y mis volcanes tiemblan en la danza.
Por el norte limito con la duda,
por el este limito con el otro,
por el oeste Corazón Abierto
y por el sur con tierra castellana.
Dentro del continente hay contenido,
los estados unidos de mi cuerpo,
el estado de pena por la noche,
el estado de risa por el alma
-estado de soltera todo el día-.
Al mediodía tengo terremotos
si el viento de una carta no me llega,
el fuego se enfurece y va y me arrasa
las cosechas de trigo de mi pecho.
El bosque de mis pelos mal peinados
se eriza cuando el río de la sangre
recorre el continente,
y por no haber pecado me perdona.
El mar que me rodea es muy variable,
se llama Mar Mayor o Mar de Gente
a veces me sacude los costados,
a veces me acaricia suavemente;
depende de las brisas o del tiempo,
del ciclo o del ciclón, tal vez depende,
el caso es que mi caso es ser la isla
llamada a sumergirse o sumergerse
en las aguas del océano humano
conocido por vulgo vulgarmente.
Acabo mi lección de goegrafía.
Mirad mi contenido continente.
Gloria Fuertes

Por: en | SPAIN | Comentarios (2) | Referencias (0)

Diumenge, 24 de agost de 2008

Дама с собачкой [The Lady with the Dog /Anna Sergueyevna and her Pomeranian]

Eva + Lucca in Hyde Park



В Ореанде сидели на скамье, недалеко от церкви смотрели вниз на море и молчали. Ялта была едва видна сквозь утренний туман, на вершинах гор неподвижно стояли белые облака. Листва не шевелилась на деревьях, кричали цикады, и однообразный, глухой шум моря, доносившийся снизу, говорил о покое, о вечном сне, какой ожидает нас. Так шумело внизу, когда еще тут не было ни Ялты, ни Ореанды, теперь шумит и будет шуметь так же равнодушно и глухо, когда нас не будет. И в этом постоянстве, в полном равнодушии к жизни и смерти каждого из нас кроется, быть может, залог нашего вечного спасения, непрерывного движения жизни на земле, непрерывного совершенства. Сидя рядом с молодой женщиной, которая на рассвете казалась такой красивой, успокоенный и очарованный в виду этой сказочной обстановки - моря, гор, облаков, широкого неба, Гуров думал о том, как, в сущности, если вдуматься, все прекрасно на этом свете, все, кроме того, что мы сами мыслим и делаем, когда забываем о высших целях бытия, о своем человеческом достоинстве.

At Oreanda they sat on a seat not far from the church, looked down at the sea, and were silent. Yalta was hardly visible through the morning mist; white clouds stood motionless on the mountain-tops. The leaves did not stir on the trees, grasshoppers chirruped, and the monotonous hollow sound of the sea rising up from below, spoke of the peace, of the eternal sleep awaiting us. So it must have sounded when there was no Yalta, no Oreanda here; so it sounds now, and it will sound as indifferently and monotonously when we are all no more. And in this constancy, in this complete indifference to the life and death of each of us, there lies hid, perhaps, a pledge of our eternal salvation, of the unceasing movement of life upon earth, of unceasing progress towards perfection. Sitting beside a young woman who in the dawn seemed so lovely, soothed and spellbound in these magical surroundings -- the sea, mountains, clouds, the open sky -- Gurov thought how in reality everything is beautiful in this world when one reflects: everything except what we think or do ourselves when we forget our human dignity and the higher aims of our existence.

En Oreanda se sentaron silenciosos en un sitio no lejos de la iglesia y mirando hacia el mar. Yalta apenas era visible a través de la bruma matinal; blancas nubes permanecían quietas en lo alto de las montañas. No se movía una hoja; en los árboles cantaban las cigarras, y sólo llegaba a ellos desde abajo el cavernoso y monótono ruido de las olas hablando de paz, de ese sueño eterno que a todos nos espera. Del mismo modo debía oírse cuando ni Yalta ni Oreanda existían; así se oye ahora, y se oirá con la misma monotonía cuando ya no vivamos. Y en esta constancia, en esta completa indiferencia hacia la vida y la muerte de cada uno de nosotros, ahí se oculta tal vez la garantía de nuestra eterna salvación, del movimiento incesante de la vida sobre el mundo, del progreso hacia la perfección. Sentado al lado de una mujer joven que en la luz del amanecer parecía tan encantadora, acariciada e idealizada por los mágicos alrededores -el mar, las montañas, las nubes, el cielo azul-, Gurov pensó lo hermoso que es todo en el mundo cuando se refleja en nuestro espíritu: todo, menos lo que pensamos o hacemos cuando olvidamos nuestra dignidad y los altos designios de nuestra existencia.

Anton Chejov, 1899.

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Dilluns, 04 de agost de 2008

Moments

Moments
Jorge Luis Borges

If I was able to live my life anew,
In the next I would try to make more mistakes,
I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more,
I would be more more silly than I have been,
In fact, I would take things less seriously.
I would be less hygienic,
I would run more risks, take more trips,
contemplate more dusks,climb more mountains,
swim more rivers.
I would go more places that I have never been,
I would eat more ice creams and less beans,
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived
sensibly and prolifically each minute of his life
Of course I had moments of happiness
But if I could go back I would have only good moments.

For if you don’t know that is what life is made of -only moments,
don’t forget the now.

I was one of those who never went anywhere
without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle,
an umbrella and a parachute.
If I could live again I would travel lighter,
If I could live again I would walk barefoot
from the beginning of spring and c
ontinue until the end of autumn,
I would take more carriage rides,
contemplate more dawns, play with more children if
I had another life ahead of me.
But I am already 85 years old and I know that I am dying

Translation by Janet Mactavish


Por una cabeza, Carlos Gardel

Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida.
En la próxima trataría de cometer más errores.
No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.
Sería más tonto de lo que he sido, de hecho
tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad.
Sería menos higiénico.
Correría más riesgos, haría más viajes, contemplaría
más atardeceres, subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos.
Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido, comería
más helados y menos habas, tendría más problemas
reales y menos imaginarios.
Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata y prolíficamente
cada minuto de su vida; claro que tuve momentos de alegría.
Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría de tener
solamente buenos momentos.
Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida, sólo de momentos;
no te pierdas el ahora.
Yo era uno de esos que nunca iban a ninguna parte sin termómetro,
una bolsa de agua caliente, un paraguas y un paracaídas;
Si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano.
Si pudiera volver a vivir comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios
de la primavera y seguiría así hasta concluir el otoño.
Daría más vueltas en calesita, contemplaría más amaneceres
y jugaría con más niños, si tuviera otra vez la vida por delante.
Pero ya tengo 85 años y sé que me estoy muriendo.

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Dimecres, 30 de juliol de 2008

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

RK

Que suene esta canción cada vez que yo me muera...

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