Archivado en: Cançons
See the animal in his cage that you built
Are you sure what side you’re on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
See the safety of the life you have built
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart
And it’s all
Right where it belongsWhat if everything around you
Isn’t quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks?
Would you find yourself
Find yourself afraid to see?
What if all the world’s inside of your head
Just creations of your own?
Your devils and your gods
All the living and the dead
And you’re really all alone?
You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
You keep looking but you can’t find the woods
While you’re hiding in the trees
What if everything around you
Isn’t quite as it seems?
What if all the world you used to know
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks
Would you find yourself
Find yourself afraid to see?
Archivado en: Frases
Cualquier camino, si se sigue hasta el fin, no conduce exactamente a ningún lugar. Escalad tan sólo un poco la montaña para comprobar si es una montaña. Desde la cima de la montaña, no podréis ver la montaña.
- F.Herbert
(Nota del blogger: curiosa mezcla de Lewis Carroll y proverbio budista)
Archivado en: Cançons
Lime green, lime green and tangerine
The sickly sweet colors of the snakes I’m seeing
Lime green and tangerine
The sickly sweet colors of the devil in my dreams
It gets to Friday
I give you a call
You know I’m getting kind of worried
She doesn’t seem herself at all
Lime green and a sickly kind of orange
I’ve never seen her like this before
I had the best laid plans this side of America
Started out in church and finished with Angelica
Red and blue soul with a snow-white smile
Can you dig it?
Can you dig it?(Can you dig it?)
Can you dig it?
I had the best-laid plans this side of America
Started out in church and finished with Angelica
And now I dig it in the dirt and I’m down here for a while
You’ve got to make up your mind and make it soon
Is there room in your life for one more trip to the moon?
Is there room in your life for one more?
Burn red, red and gold
The deep dark colors of the snakes I hold
Burn red, burn red, burn red and gold
The deep dark colors of the devil at home
She pulls me down just as I’m trying to hide
Grabs me by the hair and drags me outside
and starts digging in the dirt for a not so early bird
It’s the only way for her to get the worm
I had the best laid plans this side of America
Started out in church and finished with Angelica
Red and blue soul with a snow-white smile
Can you dig it?
Can you dig it?
Can you dig it?
I had the best-laid plans this side of America
Started out in church and finished with Angelica
And now I dig it in the dirt and I’m down here for a while
“Hello? Are you still there?”
And much too late . . .
“Sorry . . . wrong number.”
“I’m sorry you have the wrong number.”
“Yeah… sorry, wrong number.”
-R. Smith
Archivado en: Contes
[...]
He aquí la carta. Se verá, quizá, que mi amigo no era ni un loco, ni un imbécil.
“…Por décima vez o vigésima vez, querido amigo, faltamos a nuestra palabra, infamemente. Por paciente que seas, supongo que ya estarás harto de invitarnos. La verdad es que esta última vez, como las anteriores, no tenemos excusa, mi mujer y yo. Te habíamos escrito que contaras con nosotros y no teníamos absolutamente nada que hacer. Sin embargo, hemos perdido el tren, como siempre.
“Hace quince años que perdemos todos los trenes y todos los vehículos públicos, hagamos lo que hagamos. Es horriblemente estúpido, es de un atroz ridículo, pero empiezo a creer que el mal no tiene remedio. Somos víctimas de una grotesca fatalidad. Todo es inútil. Para alcanzar el tren de las ocho, por ejemplo, hemos ensayado levantarnos a las tres de la mañana, y hasta pasar la noche en vela. Y bien, amigo mío, en el último momento se incendiaba la chimenea, a medio camino se me recalcaba un pie, el vestido de Julieta se enganchaba en alguna zarza, nos quedábamos dormidos en la sala de espera, [...] etcétera, etcétera… [...] Desde nuestra llegada a este lugar maldito, hemos faltado a setenta y cuatro entierros, a doce casamientos, a treinta bautismos, a un millar de visitas o diligencias indispensables [...]
El Poustillon de Longjumeau anunciaba ayer el deplorable fin de los Fourmi. Esta hoja tan recomendable por la abundancia y por la calidad de su información, se perdía en conjeturas sobre las misteriosas causas de la desesperación que había precipitado al suicidio esta pareja, considerada tan feliz.
-L. Bloy
Archivado en: Cançons
I’m too honest when I’m scared
When I first looked in I was young and cared
These are ways of getting through
I left my trust on the tail of youth
We were so unsure of the things we’d seen
These are ways of getting through
These are things I do for you
And ask me and ask me
I’ll be there too
I never learned to ask what’s fair
It’s just the words we use take us there
I never touch fortune
And never regret
It’s just a simple task
To touch your depths
And I’m always too honest when I’m scared
When I first looked in I was young and cared
These are ways of getting through
These are things I do for you
And ask me and ask me
I’ll be there soon.
Archivado en: Frases
Una gran verdad parece contradictoria;
Una gran inteligencia parece estupidez;
Una gran elocuencia parece incomprensible.
Aunque parece que la acción vence a la contención,
la inmovilidad vence al deseo;
Así pues, el que permanece calmado es quien tiene el control.
-Lao Tse
Archivado en: Poemes
Sólo la vacuidad es permanente
lo ha dicho el niño dios-el niño Lama-
reparo en ello dentro de la cama
y me lo prueba el hueco de mi mente
Lao-Tsé dice que es mundo suficiente
las seis paredes, omnisciente el Brahma
según el Gita vive en cada rama
y en cada gota azul de la corriente
Pues tantos dioses hay como vacío
espero entre las sábanas vibrante
a que me cubra con su luz el mío
En el vacío gris nada se mueve
y me decido ascético anhelante
por continuar durmiendo hasta las nueve.
-V.L.Mora
