COMPLETE My Phone Post (5 min.) Seems To Have gotten lost. The remainder is definitely too cheap to let stand. So, in stead STI, here is my translation of the poem Inglés I Had originally Phone in USA:
Ode to Federico García Lorca by Pablo Neruda
If I could mourn with fear in a home alone
if I could gouge my eyes out and eat them, would
orange for your voice and your mourning
poetry coming out screaming. Because
painted blue for you
hospitals and schools grow and docklands areas,
and feathers are filled with wounded angels,
and covered in fish scales bridal
and fly away to heaven l,
planets and maps come with blood,
divers arrive covered with ashes, dragging
masked maidens come
crossed by large knives come
roots, veins, hospitals,
springs, ants,
night comes with the bed where
dies in a hussar spiders alone, comes a rose
hate and pins, a boat arrives
yellowish
comes a windy day with a child, I come
with Oliver, Norah
Vicente Aleixandre, Delia,
Maruca, Malva Marina, Maria Luisa and Larco,
la Rubia, Rafael Ugarte,
Cotapos, Rafael Alberti, Carlos
, Baby, Manolo Altolaguirre,
Molinari,
Rosales, Concha Méndez, and other
that I forget. Come
crown you, young
health and the throttle, pure young woman as a black lightning
free forever,
and talking among ourselves,
now, when there is nobody among the rocks,
just as you are talking about just me:
verses what they are for if not to spray?
For what are the lines if not for that night
bitter that we find out a knife, for that day,
for the twilight, so that corner where the beaten
dead man's heart is about to die?
Especially at night, night
there are many stars, all within a
river like a ribbon next to the windows of the houses
llenas poor people.
Someone has Died,
may have lost their jobs in offices, hospitals
, in elevators,
in mines stubbornly
beings suffer and no purpose
wounded and crying everywhere:
while the stars are in an endless river
much crying on the windows, thresholds
worn with tears,
the bedrooms are wet with tears
that comes in the form of wave to bite the carpet.
Federico,
you see the world, the streets,
vinegar,
bounces at stations when the smoke rises
wheels
critical to where there's nothing but some
separations, stones, railroad tracks.
There are so many people asking questions
everywhere. There is the blind
bloody and angry, and discouraged
,
and miserable, tree nails,
the bandit with envy on their backs.
That's life, Federico Here
the things I can offer my friendship
of melancholy man manly.
You know yourself a lot. And others go knowing
slowly.
Federico García Lorca Ode To
fearsome If I could weep in a lonely house
If I could wrench my eyes out and eat
Them Would I do it for your mournful orange-tree voice
and for your poetry that is borne forth screaming.
Because for you hospitals are painted blue
and out grow the schools and seaside hoods,
and wounded angels are settled in feathers,
and nuptial fish are covered in scales,
and urchins take flight to the sky,
for you, outfitters with their black membranes
fill their selves with spoons and with blood,
and engorge red ribbons, and kill themselves with kisses,
and dress their selves in white.
When you soar clothed as a peach tree,
when you laugh a laugh of whirlwind rice,
when to sing you shake the arteries and teeth,
the throat and the fingers,
I would die for the sweetness of you,
I would diome I with Oliver, Norah,
Vicente Aleixandre, Delia,
Maruca, Malva Marma, Maria Luisa and Larco,
the Blonde, Rafael Ugarte,
Cotapos, Rafael Alberti, Carlos
, Baby, Manolo Altolaguirre,
Molinari,
Rosales Concha Mendez,
chance and Others I forget.
May Come so That I crown you, youth of health
and of the butterfly, so pure
youth like a black lightning-flash perpetually free,
and conversing, Between you and me,
Now, When no one is left by the rocks, let us speak Simply
of how You are and how I am:
What Are The verses use if not for the dew?
What Are The verses use if not for That night, in Which a bitter
dagger Finds us out, For That Day,
for that atmosphere in flux, for that torn corner
where the stricken heart of man deems itself to die?
Above all at night,
at night are numerous stars,
all within a river
like a ribbon along the windows of houses bulging with destitutes.
Someone has died on them, perhaps
they've lost their posts in offices, in the hospitals, in the elevators,
in the mines, beings suffer wounds stubbornly and there are designs and grief all around: meanwhile the stars run within an interminable river
there's much weeping at the windows,
the threshholds are worn from the weeping,
the alcoves are drenched with a weeping
that comes in form of a wave to bite the carpets.
Federico,
you see the world, the streets,
the vinegar,
the farewells on the station platforms
when the smoke lifts its decisive wheels
towards where there is nothing but a few
separations, stones, railroad tracks.
There are so many people asking questions
everywhere.
There's the bloody and blind, the irate, and the
disillusioned,
and the miserable, the tree of fingernails,
the robber emburdened with envy.
That's life, Federico, here you have
the things that can offer you my friendship
that of a melancholic, manly man.
On your own, you know many things
and others you will come to know slowly.
f I Could pack Councils city with soot, and sobbing, overthrow the clocks, it Would Be to discover the Following Things when to arrive to your house: summer with STI busted lips, insufferable Many people in rags, regions of Their brilliance dulled Sadly, oxen dead at the plow and poppies, Those That and Those Things That bury ride horses, orbiting planets and maps sprinkled with blood, snorkelers Covered in ashes, masked men dragging damsels Were Whose paths crossed by great cutlery, ensoiled roots, blood veins, hospitals, bubbling springs, ants, the night on the bed containing a lone Cavalryman Which is Thrown to the spiders to die, a rosy hatred and needles, a yellowish barge, a windy day with a boy, And Then, I arrive with a bunch of miscellaneous people, Some of Which flee my remembrrobber with envy pressing upon His shoulders. That's the way life is, Federico, here You Have The Things That Can offer you my friendship, my company, That of a melancholic, virile man. In and of yourself, you know Many Things, and Others slowly you will learn.
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. My hopes are to make it a fun and entertaining site, by which I can exercise whatever cleverness I believe myself to possess in my delusion. I have lots of time on my hands now that I'm a slave of the court and I intend to make the most of it, by meeting as many people as e-possible and interacting with them in unimaginable ways, winning them over with make-shift charms, instead of trying to manipulate them with head games. More on that later. MY HUMBLE REQUEST: ![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sQfRUdrqF_tyYi06N76O7ipvQgIztccLHJGbu281mjPwBQuL_NtswBaca_s99Q1vsddpn2zhwDi8ZmIwzuaFJRbz_Y8p19yOz8SdtQyDPG50hIvA=s0-d){kind=small}
you Agree To bless me with her unfathomable layout-making skills. She is ASKs All That I Give her a raw idea from Which She Can Something awesome sculpt. Fair enough, But I got nothing. I really Have no discernible taste in visual art Written Outside the medium, Which is not very visual at all. I need YOUR help, f-list! Thanks. (EDIT: In accordance "with What You've read in my writing, the best way to Suggest an idea is to singularly Describing Words mention my layout, in the imaginative sense. For example: dark, bilious, sickening, trashy .. . I will work well with These Words to manifest an idea for Paige. It Should Be Easy. Thanks again.) (CLOSED : Me and Paige did it by Our own damn selves. Feel free to Commend her on her beautiful work! ) 