El blog pretende publicar, principalmente, traducciones al español de textos y poemas de Henry David Thoreau y referencias a trabajos sobre dicho autor.
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Sunday, September 30, 2012
PENSAMIENTOS, PODER
Saturday, September 29, 2012
DIARIO 26 DE AGOSTO DE 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
PREGUNTAS
Will you live? or will you be embalmed? Will you live, though it be astride of a sunbeam; or will you repose safely in the catacombs for a thousand years? In the former case, the worst accident that can happen is that you may break your neck . Will you break your heart, your soul, to save your neck? Necks and pipe-stems are fated to be broken.Men make a great ado about the folly of demanding too much of life (or of eternity?), and of endeavoring to live according to that demand . It is much ado about nothing. No harm ever came from that quarter.
I am not afraid that I shall exaggerate the value and significance of life, but that I shall not be up to the occasion which it is.I shall be sorry to remember that I was there, but noticed nothing remarkable,-not so much as a prince in disguise; lived in the golden age a hired man;visited Olympus even, but fell asleep after dinner, and did not hear the conversation of the gods. I lived in Judaea eighteen hundred years ago, but I never knew that there was such a one as Christ among my contemporaries!
If there is anything more glorious than a congress of men a-framing or amending of a constitution going on, which I suspect there is, I desire to see the morning papers.I am greedy of the faintest rumor, though it were got by listening at the key-hole . I will dissipate myself in that direction.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
INACABADO
TO THE UNFINISHED
...
YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME ONCE MORE TO THE OLD HOUSE
(...)
OFFERING ME WHAT I HAD TO CHOOSE IT IS
YOU WHO COME BRINGING ME THE ONLY DAY
IN THE MORNING
(WILLIAM S. MERWIN)
Sunday, September 16, 2012
DIARIO 1 DE JUNIO DE 1853
DIARIO 1 DE JUNIO DE 1853
HDT
Sunday, September 09, 2012
LEGADO DE THOREAU
¿APOTEOSIS O SENCILLEZ?
Apotheosis
There are days when I am envious of my hens:when I hunger for a purpose as perfect and sure
as a single daily egg.
If I could only stand in the sun,
scratch the gravel and blink and wait
for the elements within me to assemble,
asking only grain I would
surrender myself to the miracle
of everyday incarnation: a day of my soul
captured in yolk and shell.
And I would have no need
for the visions that come to others
on bat’s wings, to carry them
face to face with nothingness.
The howl of the coyote in the night
would not raise my feathers, for I,
drowsy on my roost, would dream
of the replicated fruits of my life
nested safe in cartons.
And yet I am never seduced,
for I have seen what a hen knows of omnipotence:
nothing of the miracles in twelves,
only of the hand that feeds
and, daily, robs the nest.
Barbara Kingsolver (Another America)
Y aún así nunca he sido seducido,
porque he visto lo que una gallina sabe sobre la omnipotencia:
nada de milagroso en las docenas,
solo la mano que alimenta
y, diariamente, roba el nido
EL LEGADO DE THOREAU