Tranquilo silencio

Qué nos importa al fin y al cabo
que todo se convierta en ceniza,
en cuantos precipicios canté
y en cuantos espejos viví.
Que no sea yo sueño ni consuelo
y mucho menos paraíso.
Pero puede ser que con frecuencia
tengas que recordar
el rumor de las líneas sosegadas
y el ojo que oculta en el fondo
aquella corona de flores, punzante y oxidada,
en su tranquilo silencio.

Anna Ajmátova

Día de lluvia

Ha llovido casi todo el día. Hoy la lluvia parece una melodía.

"It needs a God outside time to remember when everything changes"

Graham Greene, The end of the affair.

Amor y odio

Love is fed by the imagination, by which we become wiser than we know, better than we feel, nobler than we are: by which we can see life as a whole, by which and by which alone we can understand others in their real and ideal relation. Only what is fine and finely conceived, can feed love. But anything will feed hate. There was not a a glass of champagne that you drank, not a rich dish that you ate of in all those years, that did not feed your hate and make it fat.

.....

Hate is, intellectually considered, the eternal negation. Considered from the point of view of the emotions it is a form of atrophy, and kills everything but itself.

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis.

Descubro ahora esta obra en su idioma original.

Luz o sombra

My mistake was that I confined myself so exclusively to the trees of what seemed to me the sun-lit side of the garden, and shunned the other side for its shadow and its gloom....

The other half of the garden had its secrets for me also.

Oscar Wilde. De Profundis

Lluvia

Muchas veces se compara la lluvia con las lágrimas. La manera de llover de este día me hace pensar en sollozos profundos. Parece que la nostalgia flota en el ambiente con la humedad. Y sin embargo, en el clima nublado se puede sonreir. La lluvia y las lágrimas limpian.

Esta oscuridad me aplasta, pero pronto, espero ver el sol.

Identidad

Suffering is the means by which we exist, because it is the only means by which we become conscious of existing; and the remembrance of suffering in the past is necessary to us as the warrant, the evidence, of our continued identity.

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis.