31 de julio de 2008

CRY FOR HELP - Rick Astley

She's taken my time.
Convince me she's fine.
But when she leaves I'm not so sure.

It's always the same.
She's playing her game.
And when she goes I feel to blame.

Why won't she say she needs me?
I know she's not as strong as she seems.
Why don't I see her cry for help?
Why don't I feel her cry for help?
Why don't I hear her cry for help?

I wandered around
the streets of this town
trying to find sense of it all.

The rain on my face,
it covers the trace
of all the tears I'd had to waste.

Why must we hide emotions?
Why must we never break down and cry?
All that I need is to cry for help.
Somebody please hear me cry for help.
All I can do is cry for help.

No need to feel ashamed. Release the pain. Cry for help.
Cry for help is all I need.
All I need is a cry for help.
Cry for help is all I need.
All I need is a cry for help.
Why must we hide emotions?
Why can't we ever break down and cry?
All that I need is to cry for help.
I will be there when you cry for help.
Why don't I hear her cry for help?
All that I need is to cry for help.
Somebody please hear me cry for help.
All I can do is cry for help.
All that I need is to cry for help.
I will be there when you cry for help.
Is it so hard to cry for help?

(Cry for help is all I need.) No need to feel ashamed.
(All I need is a cry for help.) Come on and release the pain.
(Cry for help is all I need.) Put your trust in me.
(All I need is a cry for help.) My love is gonna set you free.

30 de julio de 2008

LE PAPILLON - Antoine Antin & Jenny Rakotomamonjy (2002)

29 de julio de 2008


Nothing remains
Of the house that I was born in
-- Fireflies.

Taneda Santoka

28 de julio de 2008


27 de julio de 2008


De no estar tú,
demasiado enorme
sería el bosque


26 de julio de 2008


Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.


25 de julio de 2008


"How poor a part I've played in your life. It's almost as though I'm not your husband, and we've never lived together as man and wife. What were you like, then? To me, your face is still beautiful, but it's no longer the one for which Michael Furey braved death. Why am I feeling this riot of emotion? What started it up? A ride in the cab? When not responding when I kissed her hand? My aunt's party? My own foolish speech? Wine, dancing, music?

"Poor Aunt Julia... That haggard look on her face when she was singing Arrayed for the Bridal. Soon, she'll be a shade too, with the shade of Patrick Morkan and his horse. Soon, perhaps, I'll be sitting in that same drawing-room, dressed in black, the blinds would be drawn down, and I'd be casting about in my mind for words of consolation. And would find only lame and useless ones. Yes, yes. That will happen very soon.

"Yes, the newspapers are right: snow is general all over Ireland. Falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, softly upon the Bog of Allen, and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves.

"One by one we are all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

"How long you locked away in your heart, the image of your lover's eyes when he told you that he did not wish to live? I've never felt like that myself towards any woman, but I know that such a feeling must be love. Think of all those who ever were, back to the start of time. And me, transient as they, flickering out as well into their grey world. Like everything around me, this solid world itself, which they reared and lived in, is dwindling and dissolving.

"Snow is falling. Falling in that lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lays buried. Falling faintly through the universe, and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."

(The Dead, John Huston, 1987)

24 de julio de 2008

THE DEAD # 1: THE LASS OF AUGHRIM - Frank Patterson

If you'll be the lass of Aughrim,
As I am taking you mean to be,
Tell me the first token,
That passed between you and me.

O don't you remember,
That night on yon lean hill,
When we both met together,
Which I am sorry now to tell.

The rain falls on my heavy locks,
And the dew wets my skin,
My babe lies cold within my arms,
But none will let me in.

(The Dead, John Huston, 1987)

23 de julio de 2008


"Muchos de ellos son normales porque se han ajustado muy bien a nuestro modo de existencia, porque su voz humana ha sido acallada a una edad tan temprana de sus vidas que ya ni siquiera luchan, padecen o tienen síntomas, en contraste con lo que al neurótico le sucede. Son normales no en lo que podrían llamarse el sentido absoluto de la palabra, sino únicamente en relación con una sociedad profundamente anormal. Su perfecta adaptación a esa sociedad anormal es una medida de la enfermedad mental que padecen. Estos millones de personas anormalmente normales, que viven sin quejarse en una sociedad a la que, si fueran seres humanos cabales, no deberían estar adaptados, todavía acarician 'la ilusión de la individualidad', pero de hecho, han quedado desindividualizados en gran medida."

Aldous Huxley, Nueva Visita a un Mundo Feliz, 1958

22 de julio de 2008


When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort.

And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he.'

'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.

'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty.'

And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.'

Oscar Wilde

21 de julio de 2008

LANDSCAPES - Lunar Khandro

20 de julio de 2008


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost, Mountain Interval, 1920

19 de julio de 2008


18 de julio de 2008


Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

William Butler Yeats

17 de julio de 2008


16 de julio de 2008


15 de julio de 2008


Hay niebla espesa
la hierba está húmeda
el aire es blanco

Andrés Fisher

14 de julio de 2008


13 de julio de 2008


(The Last Wave, Peter Weir, 1977)

12 de julio de 2008


Dos monjes viajan juntos a pie. En determinado momento, llegan a un río que posee una fuerte corriente. En la orilla del río hay una joven y hermosa mujer que intenta cruzarlo, sin atreverse a hacerlo. La joven les pide ayuda. El monje más viejo, sin decir palabra, alza a la mujer en sus brazos, la sienta a horcajadas sobre sus hombros y procede a vadear el río con ella a cuestas. Al llegar a la otra orilla, deposita a la joven en el suelo y se despiden.

Los dos monjes continúan caminando durante varias horas más, en silencio. Por fin, el monje más joven no resiste más y le reprocha al monje mayor: "Siendo monjes, no nos está permitido el contacto con mujeres, ¿cómo pudiste entonces cargar a esa joven sobre tus hombros?"

El monje más viejo, sin mirarlo, le responde apaciblemente: "Yo dejé a esa mujer en la orilla hace varias horas, pero parece que tú todavía la estás cargando."

11 de julio de 2008

THE SOUND OF SILENCE - Simon and Garfunkel (1965)

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping.
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone.
Beneath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said: the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence.

10 de julio de 2008


Nan-in, un maestro japonés del período Meiji, recibió a un profesor universitario que vino a interrogarlo acerca del Zen.
Nan-in sirvió té. Llenó la taza de su visitante hasta que estuvo llena y, entonces, siguió virtiendo té.
El profesor miró el té que desbordaba y se esparcía por la mesa hasta que no pudo contenerse y exclamó: "¡Está repleta, no cabe ya más!"
"Al igual que esta taza" -dijo Nan-in- "usted está lleno de sus propias opiniones y especulaciones. ¿Cómo podría yo enseñarle algo a menos que usted vacíe primero su propia taza?"

"Zen Flesh, Zen Bones", Paul Reps, 1978

9 de julio de 2008

GURDJIEFF - Danzas Sagradas

(De la película de Peter Brook "Meetings with Remarkable Men", 1979)

8 de julio de 2008


Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis on which
the world earth revolves

- slowly, evenly,
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.

Thich Nhat Hahn

7 de julio de 2008


Rustling softly

over the bamboo
- snow in the night


6 de julio de 2008

STEPHEN KENT - Didjeridu

5 de julio de 2008


O Rose, you are sick!

The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out your bed
Of crimsom joy,
And his dark secret love
Does your life destroy.


4 de julio de 2008

SUNRISE - Norah Jones

3 de julio de 2008


No busques el camino en los otros ni en un lugar lejano:
el camino está bajo nuestros pies.
Ahora viajo solo…
pero puedo encontrarlo en todas partes.
Ciertamente, él es ahora yo,
pero ahora yo no soy él.
Así también, cuando encuentro lo que encuentro,
obtengo la verdadera libertad.

Tozan (807-869)

2 de julio de 2008

BADEN POWELL - Live in Paris (1999)

1 de julio de 2008


La larga noche...

el sonido del agua
dice lo que pienso