Sonnet pour Hélène -Ronsard-
Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise aupres du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant:
"Ronsard me celebrait du temps que j'étais belle".
Lors, vous n'aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle,
Déjà sous le labeur à demi sommeillant,
Qui au bruit de Ronsard ne s'aille réveillant,
Bénissant vostre nom de louange immortelle.
Je serai sous la terre et fantôme sans os:
Par les ombres myrteux je prendrai mon repos:
Vous serez au foyer une vieille accroupie,
Regrettant mon amour et votre fier dédain.
Vivez, si m'en croyez, n'attendez à demain:
Cueillez dès d'aujourd'hui les roses de la vie.
4.4.08
quand vous serez... (carpe diem)
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15:24
29.3.08
paraules per a la ninona de casa
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14:02
9.3.08
ja m'ho deia ma mare...
Hola,
Ara és quan penso que havia de fer cas a ma mare: "Nena, aprèn de fer mitja com una bona mestressa de casa!" ara ja tindria una manteta; em sembla que retornaré als vells costums de cosir o fer ganxet que almenys serveixen per fer coses pràctiques. A les monges féiem punt de creu, i vora foradada, te'n recordes?
de maquinadecosir me'l vaig passar tombant per la xarxa. I el resultat va ser aquest bloc. I jo sense fer pràctiques de maquinadecosir!
Que et posis bona aviat!
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0:28
27.2.08
sa meva Maria
No s'ho diu Maria, però així l'anomena el seu maridet. I a ella li agrada aquesta cançó eivissenca que acostuma a recitar quan ens trobem tots junts. I jo la vaig apuntar:
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15:59
24.2.08
souvenir
De la vetllada compartida amb el poeta Roni Someq (1955-) a Tel Aviv l'agost de 1999 me’n vaig endur aquest poema traduït al català per la Roser Lluch.
Poema de goig
Tots dos damunt el pastís
com figuretes d’uns nuvis.
Si és que arriba el ganivet
mirem de quedar en el mateix tall.
(del poemari “Paradís d’arròs”, 1996)El setembre, aquí, el va il·lustrar la Montse i, en forma de punt de llibre, els el vaig regalar a uns amics que es van casar a l'octubre.
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23:31
18.2.08
think tanks
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23:31
7.2.08
Las meninas (tela de juicio)
Ja està tot dit sobre Las meninas. No m'inventaré pas res de nou ara jo. El que voldria és mirar d'explicar una sensació.
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16:32
26.1.08
America's favorite poet
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work frequently used themes from rural life in New England, using the setting to examine complex social and philosophical themes. A popular and often-quoted poet, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes.
Robert Frost was native of California, born in San Francisco, and lived there until he was 11 years old. Frost's father was a good teacher, and later an editor of the San Francisco Evening Bulletin. The road not taken for young Robert might have been as a Californian editor rather than a New England poet.
He married with Elinor in Lawrence in 1895. They too were both qualified school teachers. Robert suffered exhaustion from teaching and the doctor prescribed fresh air. Grandfather Frost purchased a farm for the young couple in New Hampshire, shortly before his death. Frost worked on the farm for nine years and wrote many of the poems early in the mornings that would later become famous. His attempts at farming were not successful and Frost returned to education.
In 1912, Frost sailed with his family to Great Britain. His first book of poetry, was published the next year. Frost wrote some of his best work while in England.
As World War I began, Frost returned to America in 1915. He bought a farm in Franconia, New Hampshire, where he launched a career of writing, teaching, and lecturing.
Frost was 86 when he spoke at the inauguration of President Kennedy on January 20, 1961. He died a little more than two years later, in Boston, on January 29, 1963.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
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.
EL CAMI QUE NO VAIG TRIAR
Dos camins divergien en un bosc grogós
i em sabia greu no pode'ls agafar tots dos
i com que era un viatger, em vaig plantar
i me’n vaig mirar un tan lluny com vaig poder
cap on s’endinsava en la boscúria.
Llavors vaig agafar l’altre, perquè sí,
com si hagués fet l’elecció encertada,
perquè era espès i requeria ús;
malgrat això, el pas per l'altre
hauria comportat el mateix.
I tots dos jeien igual aquest matí,
amb les fulles no trepitjades.
I vaig seguir el primer un altre dia!
Tot i saber que tot segueix endavant,
vaig dubtar si hauria hagut d’entornar-me’n.
Dec dir això amb un sospir
d’aquí fins a l’eternitat:
dos camins divergien en un bosc,
i jo vaig agafar el menys transitat;
i això va fer tota la diferència.
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21:22
22.1.08
¡Anda con una cara, pobre!
- Y tu papá, Libertad, A quién piensa votar en las próximas elecciones?
- Cállate... ¡Anda con una cara, el pobre!
- Ah, ¿todavía no se decidió por ningún candidato?
- Sí, se decidió, ¡Y anda con una cara, pobre!
- ¿Por qué? ¿Piensa que ese candidato va a perder?
- No, piensa que va a ganar, ¡Y anda con una cara, pobre!
- No entiendo a tu papá, Libertad. Sabe a quién votar en las próximas elecciones, piensa que ese candidato va a ganar... ¿Y no está contento?
-No, ¡Anda con una cara, pobre!
- Pero... ¿Por qué? ¿Acaso supone que al candidato no lo van a dejar gobernar?
- Aveces supone eso, ¡Y entonces, anda con una cara, pobre¡ Otras veces supone que sí, que lo van a dejar gobernar, ¡Y anda con una cara, pobre!
- ¡Pero jorobar! ¡Si tanto le fastidia ese candidato, por qué cuernos no se le ocurrió votar a cualquiera de los otros!
- Se le ocurrió. ¡Y anduvo con unas caras, pobre!
__________________
"No tiene importacia lo que yo pienso de Mafalda. Lo importante es lo que Mafalda piensa de mí". Julio Cortázar
“Puesto que nuestros hijos se preparan para ser –por elección nuestra– una multitud de Mafaldas, no será imprudente tratar a Mafalda con el respeto que merece un personaje real”. Umberto Eco
De fet, la Mafalda no és literatura infantil, ni juvenil, gosaria dir ¿? Recordo haver-la llegit d'adolescent i no entenia res, em pensava que les tires es llegien seguides i hi buscava l'argument i cant de l'obra.
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16:40
17.1.08
The Lass of Aughrim
Dublín, comienzos de siglo. Es el día de Epifanía de 1904, y está a punto de comenzar una de las celebraciones más concurridas de Dublín, la fiesta de las Srtas. Morkan. Entre sus invitados se encuentra Gabriel Conroy, sobrino de las anfitrionas y esposo de una de las mujeres más bellas del país, Gretta. Es una noche maravillosa, el champagne inunda la celebración y los asistentes disfrutan de una magnífica velada. Gabriel, enamorado de su esposa, la contempla detenidamente cuando suena una antigua canción de amor. De vuelta a casa, Gretta le confiesa a su esposo que aquélla canción ha despertado el recuerdo de un amor de juventud, truncado por la muerte de su amado. Nunca en sus años de matrimonio Gabriel había oído esta historia. Sus sentimientos son una mezcla de tristeza, desesperación y celos que conduce a la pareja a una extraña situación (FILMAFFINITY)
A traditional Irish song in the film: The Dead (1987), based on the same name story in the book "Dubliners" by James Joyce. Sung by Frank Patterson.
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 yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms;
Lord Gregory, let me in
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22:42
5.1.08
la meva mà (1994)
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21:34
28.12.07
hombres de confianza, spin doctors, assessors...
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0:13
16.12.07
Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears
The Ellis Island Immigrant Station was designed by architects Edward Lippincott Tilton and William Boring. They received a gold medal at the 1900 Paris Exposition for the building's design.
Ellis Island was the first stop for most immigrants from Europe.
Those with visible health problems or diseases were sent home or held in the island's hospital facilities for long periods of time. About 2 percent were denied admission to the U.S. and sent back to their countries of origin for reasons such as chronic contagious disease, criminal background, or insanity.
Today Ellis Island house is a museum. The Statue of Liberty, sometimes thought to be on Ellis Island because of its symbolism as a welcome to immigrants, is actually on Liberty Island, which is about 1/2 mile to the South.
Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears
On the first day of January
Eighteen Ninety-two
They Opened Ellis Island
And they let the people through.
And the first to cross the threshold
Of that Isle of hope and tears,
Was Annie Moore from Ireland
Who was only fifteen years.
CHORUS
Isle of hope, Isle of tears,
Isle of freedom, Isle of fears,
But it's not the Isle you left behind...
That Isle of hunger, Isle of pain,
Isle you'll never see again
But the Isle of home
Is always on your mind.
In her little bag she carried
All her past and history,
And her dreams for the future
In the land of liberty.
And courage is the passport
When your old world disappears
Cause there's no future in the past
When you're fifteen years.
CHORUS
When they closed down Ellis Island
In Nineteen Forty-three,
Seventeen million people
Had come there for sanctuary.
And in springtime when I came here
And stepped onto its piers,
I thought of how it must have been
When you're only fifteen years.
CHORUS
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18:58
26.11.07
la pataleta

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0:40
24.11.07
l'oblit i la memòria (1)
jeu fosc a dues carboneres,
ribotat. El munt d’encenalls
se l’han partit la marmanyera
memoria, la mentidera,
i l’oblit, el drapaire mut.
L’una en farà curtes fogueres,
l’altre, caliu d’inquietud.
Gabriel Ferrater
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20:00







