20 March 2014

Spring




City That Does Not Sleep

by Federico Garcia Lorca
                                 translated by Robert Bly

In the sky there is nobody asleep.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
            street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
            stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream.  Careful!  Careful!  Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
            dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists.  Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
            eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful!  Be careful!  Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
            of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
            are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky.  Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.  No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
            night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.

23 February 2014

We have been together longer than we have been married. This is old fashioned, but


hardly intentional. It is a good thing. Revealment, discovery, understanding, victories, losses. And my god how we have been tested! No chance for smooth sailing for us ever, because we seem to attract adversity. But we are and will be in love and happy forever.



09 February 2014

My week in review:

Learned: The Italian word for lazy: Pigro 
Saw: 5 beautiful eagles 
Reading: Jaws by Peter Benchley 
Liked: Watching the Olympics with my family. 
Disliked: The horrible drivers who oddly enough were all in pick-ups! 
Found: A paperback copy of ‘The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo’ 
Skipped: Dessert 
Watched: Masterpiece Mystery! Sherlock 
Listened to: Broken Bells- After the Disco 
Sold: Look Again, by Richard Browner, Illustrated by Emma Landau and a Vintage Taylor & Ng Kitty-Katfish Cat Trivet by Win Ng 
Working on: My postcard prompt

05 February 2014

Pardon my dust...

I seemed to have forgotten all about this little spot. Life became too hectic, or too calm? No, the former. All of a sudden I realized I needed a place to be again. So here I am.