I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I have to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quandam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men
I'm due to fall in love again.
recuerdo cuando lucía me mandó este poema para que lo leyera, me alucinó, me sentía totalmente identificada. ahora estoy en otro momento, pero lo sigo entendiendo, me sigue emocionando, me sigue entristeciendo.
5 comentarios:
Un día de enero, frío pero con buen sol destripando los callejones, Salvatore Quasimodo se encontró con D. Parker. Ella bebía lentamente y prácticamente sin hablarle, él escribió:
"Cada uno está solo
sobre el corazón de la tierra
atravesado por un rayo de sol
y de pronto... anochece"
Y por el momento, no se dijero mucho más.
PauMadMan.
feliz cumpleaños, pap
te quiero mucho
oh! cierto es! también te mandé este de E. S. Millais. remember?
besos. aguanten los poemas tristes, que diría yunis...
V
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again --
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man -- who happened to be you --
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud -- I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place --
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
Miren lo que encontré:
http://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/suplementos/libros/10-2554-2007-05-26.html
Besossss
Yunis
loco, a ver cuando mirás la prensa española, PARECE MENTIRA, que algunos tenemos que ganarnos el pan...
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