domingo, 27 de febrero de 2011

ENJAMBRE/SWARM

Nunca creí que yo fuera un super hombre. No lo soy. Ni siquiera estoy cerca de serlo, o creerme que lo podría ser…
Pero cuando sos joven... tu voz atraviesa los muros. Tus pasos hacen temblar el suelo que pisás. Tu mano aprieta como pinza. El color de tu pelo oscurece la oscuridad. Tu respiración crea tempestades. Tu sangre le daría rojo al crepúsculo. Y tus ojos...

Hay algo que no ha cambiado, tu amor permite que mis ojos sigan viendo, por las noches, ese infinito enjambre de estrellas que veíamos hace mucho tiempo.
Con eso me basta, yo soy solamente un hombre.

I never thought that I was a super man. I'm not. I'm not even close to it, or believe that it could be…
But when you're young ... your voice through the walls. Your steps are shaking the ground you walk. Your hand presses as a clamp. The color of your hair darkens the dark. Your breath creates storms. Your blood would give red at dusk. And your eyes ...

There is something that has not changed, your love let my eyes still see, at night, that infinite swarm of stars that we saw long ago.
For me, this is enough, I'm only a man.


23 comentarios:

art is jokken dijo...

Hi elquewhispersenladarkness!
Oscar was a very wise man. And I am sure he wrote quite a lot of "lines" in his rather short life. He was a brilliant observer.

art is jokken dijo...

I like your contribution to IF topic. Your combination of text and image works well. It is not to little what you have! It is a wealth!!

Sung-Hee (Regina) Hong dijo...

Love the illustration and your writing !!!!!!!

Ernesto y Felisa dijo...

Es bonito,
pero encuentro atisbos de tristeza, o resignada melancolía..., creo que no debería atisbar...por aquí, whispereando..
Besos al no superhombre, pero si "superfantásticorelatadordesentimientos".
Felisa

Malena dijo...

Es que no se necesita más para tener nuevamente 20 años que los ojos de ella que te siguen acompañando.

Uy, soy una pesadilla, pero les dejo un poema de regalo. Ya sé, ya sé ... me pongo cansadora con esto de los poemas. Es que cuando hablan los grandes, me dejan sin palabras.

Esta mañana, amor, tenemos veinte años.
Van voluntariamente lentas, entrelazándose
nuestras sombras descalzas camino de los huertos
que enfrentan los azules de mar con sus verdores.
Tú todavía eres casi la aparecida,
la llegada una tarde sin luz entre dos luces,
cuando el joven sin rumbo de la ciudad prolonga,
pensativo, a sabiendas el regreso a su casa.
Tú todavía eres aquella que a mi lado
vas buscando el declive secreto de las dunas,
la ladera recóndita de la arena, el oculto
cañaveral que pone
cortinas a los ojos marineros del viento.
Allí estás, allí estoy contra ti, comprobando
la alta temperatura de las odas felices,
el corazón del mar ciegamente ascendido,
muriéndose en pedazos de dulce sal y espumas.
Todo nos mira alegre, después , por las orillas.
Los castillos caídos sus almenas levantan,
las algas nos ofrecen coronas y las velas,
tendido el vuelo, quieren cantar sobre las torres.

Esta mañana, amor, tenemos veinte años.

Rafael Alberti.

rossichka dijo...

When you are really connected with the one you love, there's nothing more improtant! And you really continue to see the stars and the moon with the eyes of the youngster, who once fell in love... And the Earth is your home, and the whole Universe is YOUR home, and you don't feel alone or lost in it, because you are together, weaved by the unvisible thread of love!...
I like the drawing and your words with all my heart, Roberto!:)))

Graciela dijo...

Y a mi tambien solo con eso me basta!!!!!!!!!!!!!! y te aseguro que seguiremos viendo miles de enjambres más jeje

studio lolo dijo...

romantic, sweet and powerful ;)

Celeste Bergin dijo...

love the sentiment and the painting..you are so good!

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

sweet Doc! ♥♥♥
if only i could see the infinite stars the way you did!!

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

i know i owe you a mail, i'll ask my sister first about it because i think she knows better than me (about Jakarta), okay, then i will write to you!

Sung-Hee (Regina) Hong dijo...

Roberto !!! No sorry between us ! ;-)
I appreciate you taking time to look at my ART... really... it means a lot to me =) The bird house.. jajajaja I still can't believe I read it that way.. now I completely get it ! Hope you have a wonderful Monday !! BESOS !

Pato dijo...

El amor nos hace mas jóvenes que mil cirugías plásticas.

El amor y los sueños que se cumplen ;)

Besos.

sofam dijo...

La que whisper en el oido a elquewhispersenladarkness lo a transfomado en un poeta

rossichka dijo...

Hola, Roberto! I'll try to explain... We have some specific consonants in Bulgarian. One of them is "ц" - "ts", pronounced like "z" in Zurich... And my name - Rossitsa /ro'sitsa/, is pronounced with it. Our language is rich in diminutives - not only the nouns, but the personal names have them, too. "Dew" is "роса" /ro'sa/. So, Rossitsa means tiny dew drop/s and Rossichka is its diminutive. A "rose" in Bulgarian is "роза" /'roza/. So a "little rose" is "rosichka" /'rozichka/. It really sounds so close to Rosita! Thank you for thinking of me - I'm flattered!:) And excuse me, please, if my explanation sounds complicated!:(

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

thank youuuuu!!!!!!
my drawing is like childlike-drawing and looks horrible ahaha :D but i had this little idea in my head, i just didnt know how to draw it and the result is... yeah as you can see: so poor, haha :D

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

why cant i see my poor drawing in your sidebar???
i know it's poor but...
oh come on stupid Blogger, have some respect for this witch!!!!

why do i always have problem with this stupid Blogger?

do you think stupid Blogger hates me that much???

Sympathy for The Devil dijo...

hey i just replied your mail!!!!

PILAR dijo...

Que importa pues amigo lo que se fué de joven, si tus ojos de ahora pueden seguir viendo ese infinito....Eres un hombre con suerte!!!!.Un abrazo.Pilar

Graciela dijo...

Yo también sentía que de joven me "llevaba el mundo por delante". Pero a veces, mi propia inexperencia me hacía dar cada porrazo!!!

Vos sos joven de espíritu y tenés a la tejedora de sueños cerca, así que estás muy bien...

Dibujo hermoso.

Andrew Finnie dijo...

Hey the weekend for me has just ended itself. And now I must work towards another.

Ahh your words are so true. Truth makes poetry, words make truth, therefore words make poetry? It is raining, but why am I wet.

Well you have summed up the feeling we have when we are young so succinctly. Oddly perhaps we don't know we have felt it, till we look back and go 'ahh. yes. that's how it truly was."

Yesterday I had a long run on the beach and felt it all again. But my hair is dirty grey and blonde :)

The image: the red ball of wool, the connecting skein is such a good metaphor. The moon how you have filled it in to be round but superimposed the face and crescent - sublime.

The man staring down at the stars - what a nice twist. And the way they are the lights of a city. The woman knits domestic yet is nude and erotic - is she a memory? Or how he idealizes her?

The three trees, the rocket, so phallic. I wonder what they mean.

Nice imagery, wonderful poetry.

see you from oz the land of bees and cows

Andrew Finnie dijo...

Ahhggggggggggghh I wrote 'nice'.

My sincerest apologies please place instead the sentence :Succinct, sublime, subconscious, Jungian imagery"

Andrew Finnie dijo...

Oh yes but Nice is an anagram in this case. It stands for Nacre Ichnogram Cadrans Ecbatic.

Basically that translates :it has the lustre of a pearl being held like a gemstone, yet it's translucency creats a footprint in our minds, not just as a pleasant epiphenomenon, but like light being bent by a crystal glass.

That's what I think when someone tells me my eybrows are looking 'nice' today. So see it is a complimnet of the greatest phrontistery.

Oh I stole the words from here, one by one :0 http://phrontistery.info/e.html