El blog pretende publicar, principalmente, traducciones al español de textos y poemas de Henry David Thoreau y referencias a trabajos sobre dicho autor.
O you beyond numbers beyond recollection passed on from breath to breath given again from day to day from age to age charged with knowledge knowing nothing
indifferent elders indispensable and sleepless
keepers of our names before ever we came to be called by them
you that were formed to begin with you that were cried out you that were spoken to begin with to say what could not be said
Twas a dark day in Dallas, November '63 A day that will live on in infamy President Kennedy was a-ridin' high Good day to be livin' and a good day to die Being led to the slaughter like a sacrificial lamb He said, "Wait a minute, boys, you know who I am?" "Of course we do, we know who you are" Then they blew off his head while he was still in the car Shot down like a dog in broad daylight Was a matter of timing and the timing was right You got unpaid debts, we've come to collect We're gonna kill you with hatred, without any respect We'll mock you and shock you and we'll put it in your face We've already got someone here to take your place The day they blew out the brains of the king Thousands were watchin', no one saw a thing It happened so quickly, so quick, by surprise Right there in front of everyone's eyes Greatest magic trick ever under the sun Perfectly executed, skillfully done Wolfman, oh Wolfman, oh Wolfman, howl Rub-a-dub-dub, it's a murder most foul
Hush, little children, you'll understand The Beatles are comin', they're gonna hold your hand Slide down the banister, go get your coat Ferry 'cross the Mersey and go for the throat There's three bums comin' all dressed in rags Pick up the pieces and lower the flags I'm goin' to Woodstock, it's the Aquarian Age Then I'll go to Altamont and sit near the stage Put your head out the window, let the good times roll There's a party goin' on behind the Grassy Knoll Stack up the bricks, pour the cement Don't say Dallas don't love you, Mr. President Put your foot in the tank and step on the gas Try to make it to the triple underpass Blackface singer, whiteface clown Better not show your faces after the sun goes down I'm in the red-light district, like a cop on the beat Livin' in a nightmare on Elm Street When you're down in Deep Ellum, put your money in your shoe Don't ask what your country can do for you Cash on the barrelhead, money to burn Dealey Plaza, make a left-hand turn I'm goin' down to the crossroads, gonna flag a ride The place where faith, hope, and charity died Shoot him while he runs, boy, shoot him while you can See if you can shoot the invisible man Goodbye, Charlie, goodbye, Uncle Sam Frankly, Miss Scarlet, I don't give a damn What is the truth, and where did it go? Ask Oswald and Ruby, they oughta know "Shut your mouth, " said the wise old owl Business is business, and it's a murder most foul
Tommy, can you hear me? I'm the Acid Queen I'm riding in a long, black Lincoln limousine Riding in the backseat next to my wife Heading straight on in to the afterlife I'm leaning to the left, I got my head in her lap Hold on, I've been led into some kind of a trap Where we ask no quarter, and no quarter do we give We're right down the street from the street where you live They mutilated his body and they took out his brain What more could they do? They piled on the pain But his soul's not there where it was supposed to be at For the last fifty years they've been searchin' for that Freedom, oh freedom, freedom over me I hate to tell you, mister, but only dead men are free Send me some lovin', tell me no lies Throw the gun in the gutter and walk on by Wake up, little Suzie, let's go for a drive Cross the Trinity River, let's keep hope alive Turn the radio on, don't touch the dials Parkland hospital, only six more miles You got me dizzy, Miss Lizzy, you filled me with lead That magic bullet of yours has gone to my head I'm just a patsy like Patsy Cline Never shot anyone from in front or behind Got blood in my eye, got blood in my ear I'm never gonna make it to the new frontier Zapruder's film, I've seen that before Seen it thirty-three times, maybe more It's vile and deceitful, it's cruel and it's mean Ugliest thing that you ever have seen They killed him once and they killed him twice Killed him like a human sacrifice The day that they killed him, someone said to me, "Son The age of the Antichrist has just only begun" Air Force One comin' in through the gate Johnson sworn in at 2:38 Let me know when you decide to throw in the towel It is what it is, and it's murder most foul
What's new, pussycat? What'd I say? I said the soul of a nation been torn away And it's beginning to go into a slow decay And that it's thirty-six hours past Judgment Day Wolfman Jack, he's speaking in tongues He's going on and on at the top of his lungs Play me a song, Mr. Wolfman Jack Play it for me in my long Cadillac Play me that, "Only The Good Die Young" Take me to the place Tom Dooley was hung Play, "St. James Infirmary" and, "The Port of King James" If you want to remember, you better write down the names Play Etta James, too, play "I'd Rather Go Blind" Play it for the man with the telepathic mind Play John Lee Hooker, play "Scratch My Back" Play it for that strip club owner named Jack Guitar Slim going down slow Play it for me and for Marilyn Monroe
Play, "Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" Play it for the First Lady, she ain't feeling any good Play Don Henley, play Glenn Frey Take it to the limit and let it go by Play it for Carl Wilson, too Looking far, far away down Gower Avenue Play, "Tragedy" play, "Twilight Time" Take me back to Tulsa to the scene of the crime Play another one and, "Another One Bites the Dust" Play, "The Old Rugged Cross" and, "In God We Trust" Ride the pink horse down that long, lonesome road Stand there and wait for his head to explode Play, "Mystery Train" for Mr. Mystery The man who fell down dead like a rootless tree Play it for the Reverend, play it for the Pastor Play it for the dog that got no master Play Oscar Peterson, play Stan Getz Play, "Blue Sky", play Dickey Betts Play Hot Pepper, Thelonious Monk Charlie Parker and all that junk All that junk and, "All That Jazz" Play something for the Birdman of Alcatraz Play Buster Keaton, play Harold Lloyd Play Bugsy Siegel, play Pretty Boy Floyd Play the numbers , play the odds Play, "Cry Me A River" for the Lord of the gods Play Number Nine, play Number Six Play it for Lindsey and Stevie Nicks Play Nat King Cole, play, "Nature Boy" Play, "Down In The Boondocks" for Terry Malloy Play, "It Happened One Night" and, "One Night of Sin" There's twelve million souls that are listening in Play, "Merchant to Venice" play, "Merchants of Death" Play, "Stella by Starlight" for Lady Macbeth
Don't worry, Mr. President, help's on the way Your brothers are coming, there'll be hell to pay Brothers? What brothers? What's this about hell? Tell them, "We're waiting, keep coming" We'll get them as well Love Field is where his plane touched down But it never did get back up off the ground Was a hard act to follow, second to none They killed him on the altar of the rising sun Play, "Misty" for me and, "That Old Devil Moon" Play, "Anything Goes" and, "Memphis in June" Play, "Lonely At the Top" and, "Lonely Are the Brave" Play it for Houdini spinning around his grave Play Jelly Roll Morton, play, "Lucille" Play, "Deep In a Dream" and play "Driving Wheel" Play, "Moonlight Sonata" in F-sharp And, "A Key To The Highway" for the king of the harp Play, "Marching Through Georgia" and, "Dumbaroton's Drums" Play, "Darkness" and death will come when it comes Play, "Love Me Or Leave Me" by the great Bud Powell Play, "The Blood-stained Banner" play, "Murder Most Foul"
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for an hour, And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green stripéd bag, or a jack-knife, And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all.
And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails, And their reticent fur is suddenly all in motion With fleas that one never knew were there, Polished and brown, knowing all there is to know, Trekking off into the living world. You fetch a shoe-box, but it's much too small, because she won't curl up now: So you find a bigger box, and bury her in the yard, and weep. But you do not wake up a month from then, two months A year from then, two years, in the middle of the night And weep, with your knuckles in your mouth, and say Oh, God! Oh, God! Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters, —mothers and fathers don't die.
And if you have said, "For heaven's sake, must you always be kissing a person?" Or, "I do wish to gracious you'd stop tapping on the window with your thimble!" Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you're busy having fun, Is plenty of time to say, "I'm sorry, mother."
To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak; Who do not drink their tea, though they always said Tea was such a comfort.
Run down into the cellar and bring up the last jar of raspberries; they are not tempted. Flatter them, ask them what was it they said exactly That time, to the bishop, or to the overseer, or to Mrs. Mason; They are not taken in. Shout at them, get red in the face, rise, Drag them up out of their chairs by their stiff shoulders and shake them and yell at them; They are not startled, they are not even embarrassed; they slide back into their chairs.
Your tea is cold now. You drink it standing up, And leave the house.
Before sunrise. With what infinite and unwearied expectation and
proclamation the cocks usher in every dawn as if there had never been
one before. And the dog barks still and the thallus of lichens springs,
so tenacious of life is nature.
HDT
Antes de la salida del sol. Con qué infinita y no gastada expectación y proclamación los gallos se muestran cada amanecer como si no hubiera habido niguno antes. Y los perros ladran todavía y el talo de los líquenes brota, tan tenaz con la vida es la naturaleza.
Counterfeited philosophies have polluted all of your thoughts
Karl Marx has got ya by the throat, Henry Kissinger's got you tied up in knots.
(...)
You got unrighteous doctors dealing drugs that'll never cure your ills
(...)
The rich seduce the poor and the old are seduced by the young
(...)
You got gangsters in power and lawbreakers making rules.
(...)
There's a man up on a cross
("When you gonna wake up")
Have they counted the cost it’ll take to bring down
All their earthly principles they’re gonna have to abandon?
There’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend
(...)
You can’t rely no more to be standin’ around waitin'
In the home of the brave
Jefferson turnin’ over in his grave
Fools glorifying themselves, trying to manipulate Satan
And there’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend
(...)
Masters of the bluff and masters of the proposition
But the enemy I see
Wears a cloak of decency All nonbelievers and men stealers talkin’ in the name of religion
(...)
I don’t care about economy
I don’t care about astronomy
But it sure do bother me to see my loved ones turning into puppets
There’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend
« Je vais sortir. Il faut oublier aujourd’hui les vieux chagrins, car
l’air est frais et les montagnes sont élevées Les forêts sont
tranquilles comme le cimetière. Cela va m’ôter ma fièvre et je ne serai
plus malheureux dorénavant ».
Thomas de Quincey. Confessions d’un
mangeur d’opium.
When Odysseus inThe Odyssey visits
the famed warrior Achilles in the underworld – Achilles, who traded a
long life full of peace and contentment for a short one full of honor
and glory – tells Odysseus it was all a mistake. “I just died, that’s
all.” There was no honor. No immortality. And that if he could, he
would choose to go back and be a lowly slave to a tenant farmer on Earth
rather than be what he is – a king in the land of the dead – that
whatever his struggles of life were, they were preferable to being here
in this dead place.
That’s
what songs are too. Our songs are alive in the land of the living. But
songs are unlike literature. They’re meant to be sung, not read. The
words in Shakespeare’s plays were meant to be acted on the stage. Just
as lyrics in songs are meant to be sung, not read on a page. And I hope
some of you get the chance to listen to these lyrics the way they were
intended to be heard: in concert or on record or however people are
listening to songs these days. I return once again to Homer, who says,
“Sing in me, oh Muse, and through me tell the story.”
(A MIRACLE SEEMS: POETS MAY BE BORN AND SING IN OUR DAY, IN THE PRESIDENCY OF JOE BIDEN)
They say ev'rything can be replaced, Yet ev'ry distance is not near. So I remember ev'ry face Of ev'ry man who put me here.
Dicen que todo puede ser reemplazado
Pero cualquier distancia es suficiente
Por ello recuerdo cada rostro
De todos los que me trajeron aquí
( "I shall be released")
Bob Dylan has unveiled his largest sculpture to date at Château La Coste in Provence, France. Rail Car,
the new site-specific ironwork sculpture, has been created for
permanent installation in the Château’s outdoor art estate, to be
displayed alongside works by leading contemporary artists and architects
such as Louise Bourgeois, Ai Weiwei, Tracy Emin and Tadao Ando.
Rail Car
- an immersive, ironwork freight car installation set on train tracks –
engages prominent motifs in Dylan’s art, as well as relating to aspects
of his past. As Dylan describes in his Chronicles: Volume One, 'I’d
seen and heard trains from my earliest childhood days and the sight and
sound of them always made me feel secure. The big boxcars, the iron ore
cars, freight cars, passenger trains, Pullman cars. There was no place
you could go in my hometown without at least some part of the day having
to stop at intersections and wait for the long trains to pass.'
The repurposed freight car that Dylan has
integrated into the sculpture is a WIIX 723 double-door boxcar used to
transport paper rolls for Willamette Industries, a timber and paper
company based in Oregon. Work began on Rail Car in the summer of 2019,
involving engineering teams in both France and the United States. The
artwork was first created in Los Angeles, then disassembled, crated and
shipped to France to be installed onsite at Château La Coste.
'The car has been placed in the most magical setting on the old Roman road that meanders through the forest here [at Château La Coste].
It is incredibly moving that Bob personally chose the location for his
masterpiece to be on this trail that was trodden for hundreds of years
by weary travellers. When I first met him in Los Angeles something
obviously clicked – perhaps it was because both of us love the unique
Provencal landscape – or Bob wouldn’t have embarked on his incredible
journey to create Rail Car. Since his piece is all about travel, Rail
Car miraculously fuses road and rail into one.'
Paddy McKillen, Founder and Owner, Château La Coste.
The unveiling of Rail Car coincides with an exhibition featuring 23 of Dylan’s paintings, entitled Drawn Blank in Provence, running until 7 November in Château La Coste’s Renzo Piano-designed art gallery.
And hark! here comes the cattle-train bearing the cattle of a thousand
hills, sheepcots, stables, and cow-yards in the air, drovers with their sticks,
and shepherd boys in the midst of their flocks, all but the mountain pastures, whirled
along like leaves blown from the mountains by the September gales. The air is
filled with the bleating of calves and sheep, and the hustling of oxen, as if a
pastoral valley were going by
Y
ESCUCHAD. AQUÍ VIENE EL TREN DEL GANADO CON LAS RESES DE MIL COLINAS,
APRISCOS, ESTABLOS Y CAÑADAS POR EL AIRE, ARRIEROS CON SUS VARAS Y
JÓVENES PASTORES EN MEDIO DE SUS REBAÑOS, TODO SALVO LOS PASTOS
MONTAÑOSOS, ARREMOLINADOS COMO HOJAS TRAÍDAS DESDE LAS MONTAÑAS POR LOS
VENDAVALES DE SEPTIEMBRE.
(...)
But the bell rings, and I must get
off the track and let the cars go by:
PERO LA CAMPANA SUENA Y DEBO APARTARME DE LA VÍA Y DEJAR PASO A LOS VAGONES:
What's the railroad to me?
I never go to see Where it ends .
it fills a few hollows,
And makes banks for the swallows,
It sets the sand a-blowing,
And the blackberries a-growing,
QUÉ ME IMPORTA LA VÍA
NUNCA VOY A VER
DÓNDE TERMINA
LLENA ALGUNOS AGUJEROS
Y HACE TALUDES PARA LAS GOLONDRINAS
LEVANTA LA ARENA QUE VUELA
Y LOS ARÁNDANOS QUE CRECEN
“We
do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. Did you ever think what
those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? Each one is a man, an
Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and they are
covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly over them. They are sound
sleepers, I assure you. And every few years a new lot is laid down and
run over; so that, if some have the pleasure of riding on a rail, others
have the misfortune to be ridden upon.”
— Henry David Thoreau, “Where I lived and What I Lived For,”
Walden
Our most serious problem, perhaps, is that we have become a nation of fantasists.
There are only two points in history when likely 10-12yr S&P 500 returns fell this far short of Treasury yields: August 1929 and December 1999.
If you don't care, you're not alone. By the time stocks reached their bubble peaks in 1929 and 2000, investors didn't care then either. pic.twitter.com/JL3703ClKX
"Se ha eliminado esta entrada porque infringe las Normas de la Comunidad de Blogger. Para volver a publicarla, actualiza el contenido de modo que cumpla las normas"
ALL OF US WILL END UP PAYING THE PRICE (I, PRESIDENT BIDEN vs #ROBERTKENNEDY JR (18-05-2021+4-09-2023) https://t.co/IQecX751BT#Covid#vaccines You can compare here a video from President Biden (May 2021) and the Kennedy's video (September 2023)
6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the #powers of this world’s darkness, and against the spiritual forces of #evil in the heavenly realms. pic.twitter.com/QwjMK5aiLi
6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the #powers of this world’s darkness, and against the spiritual forces of #evil in the heavenly realms. pic.twitter.com/QwjMK5aiLi
El Gobierno se salta la ley de Trasparencia y evita informar sobre el superplan de 10.000 millones con la naviera danesa Maersk.https://t.co/3nMxuIg20x
.@TuckerCarlson: "The Biden administration blew up Nord Stream... It was the biggest act of industrial sabotage in history, the largest manmade CO2 emission in history, and an attack on Germany."pic.twitter.com/QbtCuKGLwB
🔥 German legal insurance Auxilia, does not cover COVID-19 vaccine injuries, because they are classified as GENE THERAPIE which are not covered under their policy! https://t.co/BLivhjkCsO
MARK #TWAIN SOBRE #ABOGADOS,#LEYES Y OTRAS MATERIAS https://t.co/42Gx6y00b8#VERDAD La verdad es poderosa y prevalecerá.Nada que objetar, salvo que no es así. Carlyle dijo: una mentira no puede vivir. Demuestra que no sabía como contarlas.
Ponemos demasiadas esperanzas sobre las constituciones, las leyes y los tribunales. La libertad reside en los corazones y cuando muere allí, ninguna constitución ni ningún tribunal puede hacer mucho por ayudar pic.twitter.com/sFBGPmtVAl
My life more civil is and free
Than any civil polity.
Ye princes keep your realms
And circumscribed power,
Not wide as are my dreams,
Nor rich as is this hour.
What can ye give which I have not?
What can ye take which I have got?
Can ye defend the dangerless?
Can ye inherit nakedness?
To all true wants time’s ear is deaf,
Penurious states lend no relief
Out of their pelf
-But a free soul -thank God-
Can help itself.
Be sure your fate
Doth keep apart its state
—Not linked with any band—
Even the nobles of the land
In tented fields with cloth of gold—
No place doth hold
But is more chivalrous than they are.
And sigheth for a nobler war.
A finer strain its trumpet rings—
A brighter gleam its armor flings.
The life that I aspire to live
No man proposeth me-
No trade upon the street
Wears its emplazonry.
HDT
4 de Julio de 2001+4 de julio de 2015+24 de mayo de 2023
¿INDEPENDENCIA?
Mi vida es más cívica y libre
que cualquier cuerpo político.
Guarda príncipe tus posesiones
y tu poder circunscrito,
no son tan amplios como mis sueños,
ni tan ricos como esta hora.
¿Qué me ofreces que yo no tenga?
¿Qué puedes tomar de lo que tengo?
¿Puedes defender lo que no tiene peligro?
¿Puedes heredar la desnudez?
El oído de los tiempos es sordo a todas la necesidades verdaderas,
los estados estériles no proporcionan ningún alivio con su botín
-pero un alma libre –gracias a Dios-
puede ayudar por sí misma.
Asegúrate de que tu destino
queda aparte de su estado
-no ligado con cualquier banda-
incluso los nobles de la tierra
en campamentos con vestido de oro
no ocuparán en él ningún lugar
porque tiene más señorío que ellos.
Y busca una guerra más noble.
una melodía más hermosa resuena en su trompeta,
un reflejo más brillante irradia su armadura.
La vida a la que aspiro
nadie me la propone-
ningún trato en el comercio público
utiliza su marca.
Few have said it as well as Bob Dylan: "Come you masters of war. You that build all the guns. You that build the death planes. You that build the big bombs. You that hide behind walls. You that hide behind desks. I just want you to know I can see through your masks...Let me ask… pic.twitter.com/XwBTk52TL1
— Robert F. Kennedy Jr (@RobertKennedyJr) May 24, 2023
