...The Last Window...: 2007

понеделник, 31 декември 2007 г.

...Bent- Swollen...

With you in my garden
its more peaceful inside
I don’t need anything else
to make me feel alive

You electrify me
And I want to be in your arms
for always
for always

Our love is swollen
Made of the quietest shade of loud
Holds me like an anchor
Floats just like a cloud

неделя, 30 декември 2007 г.

...Something identifies you...

"Something identifies you with the one going away from you, and it is the common capacity of returning; hence your greatest burden.

Something separates you from the one who stays with you, and it is the common slavery of parting; hence your smallest joys."

...Crescent....

"Day and night, whether you are awake or asleep, there is somewhere in the world a being who is feverish and wakeful and waits for you, it is in vain that you try not to think of her, for you no longer dwell in yourself but in her..."

...I am going to speak of hope...

I do not suffer this pain as Cesar Vallejo. I do not hurt now as an artist, as a man or even as a mere living being. I do not suffer this pain as a Catholic, as a Muslim, nor as an atheist. Today I simply suffer. Were my name not Cesar Vallejo, I would suffer this same pain. Were I not an artist I would still suffer it. Were I not a man or even a living being, I would still suffer it. Were I not Catholic, atheist, Muslim, I would still suffer it. Today I suffer from deep down. Today I simply suffer.

I hurt today inexplicably. My pain is so deep it had no cause nor did it lack a cause. What would its cause be? Where is that thing so important that it would cease to be its cause? Nothing caused it; nothing has stopped being its cause. Why has this pain been born, all by its own? My pain comes from the north wind and from the south wind, as those neutral eggs that some strange birds hatch from the wind. Had my girlfriend died, my pain would be the same. Had they cut my head clean off my neck, my pain would be the same. Were life, in short, some other way, my pain would be the same. Today I suffer from higher up. Today I simply suffer.

I see the starving man’s pain and see his hunger move so distant from my own suffering, that if I fasted to death, at least a blade of grass would sprout from my tomb. The same for the man in love. How begotten his blood compared to mine, without source or consumption!

Until now I believed everything in this universe was inevitably a father or a son. But the fact is that today my pain is neither a father nor a son. It does not have enough back to night-fall, as it has more than enough chest to dawn. Placed in a dark room it would shed no light, and placed in a bright one, it would cast no shadow.

And in this heart that has had no cause nor lacked one;in this heart without back or chest, without state or name, without sourse or consumption, hope is unthinkable, and what's even sadder - alas, such an upward fall! - how I ache my pain already.

Cesar Vallejo

четвъртък, 27 декември 2007 г.

...Някога преди...

Слънцето изгря, слънцето се скри,
а под него - нищо ново.
Ние сме сега нашите мечти от някога преди.
Ние сме сега нашите мечти,
но дали сме по-щастливи...
Ние сме сега нашите мечти.

Каквото е било, то е и сега,
и каквото пак ще бъде.
Вече е било, някога преди.

За теб не знам, но аз бях сам
почти през всички тези дни.
Дали и Ти за мен не си
живял някога преди?

Колко съм раздал, колко съм отнел, времето ще заличи...
Но никой не успя в мен да промени твоите черти.

Гледам се сега, някак отстрани,
времето по мен личи.
Всичко се мени, а Ти?

За теб не знам, но аз бях сам
почти през всички тези дни.
Дали и Ти за мен не си
живял някога преди?

И никой като Теб... няма като Теб!
И аз и ти не сме тук случайно.
Няма никой като теб,
и аз не съм със Теб случайно...

...nothing...

"nothing.
now that I have nothing
I resolve to be nothing.
nothing to harm me, nothing to gain."

сряда, 26 декември 2007 г.

...Revelation...

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.