Rumi
"Raise your words, not your voice.
It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder."
Rumi
Levanta tus palabras, no tu voz.
Es la lluvia la que hace crecer las flores, no el trueno.
Todo lo posible
"Si hay miseria..."
hacer todo lo posible
para que no haya más.
Buscar "que no se note"
solo para que no se vea
denota más miseria.
An Endless Story - Louise Glück
I.
Halfway through the sentence
she fell asleep. She had been telling
some sort of fable concerning
a young girl who wakens one morning
as a bird. So like life,
said the person next to me. I wonder,
he went on, do you suppose our friend here
plans to fly away when she wakens?
The room was very quiet.
We were both studying her; in fact,
everyone in the room was studying her.
To me, she seemed as before, though
her head was slumped on her chest; still,
her color was good—She seems to be breathing,
my neighbor said. Not only that, he went on,
we are all of us in this room breathing—
just how you want a story to end. And yet,
he added, we may never know
whether the story was intended to be
a cautionary tale or perhaps a love story,
since it has been interrupted. So we can not be certain
we have as yet experienced the end.
But who does, he said. Who does?
II.
she fell asleep. She had been telling
some sort of fable concerning
a young girl who wakens one morning
as a bird. So like life,
said the person next to me. I wonder,
he went on, do you suppose our friend here
plans to fly away when she wakens?
The room was very quiet.
We were both studying her; in fact,
everyone in the room was studying her.
To me, she seemed as before, though
her head was slumped on her chest; still,
her color was good—She seems to be breathing,
my neighbor said. Not only that, he went on,
we are all of us in this room breathing—
just how you want a story to end. And yet,
he added, we may never know
whether the story was intended to be
a cautionary tale or perhaps a love story,
since it has been interrupted. So we can not be certain
we have as yet experienced the end.
But who does, he said. Who does?
II.
We stayed like this a long time,
stranded, I thought to myself,
like ships paralyzed by bad weather.
My neighbor had withdrawn into himself.
Something, I felt, existed between us,
nothing so final as a baby,
but real nevertheless—
Meanwhile, no one spoke.
No one rushed to get help
or knelt beside the prone woman.
The sun was going down; long shadows of the elms
spread like dark lakes over the grass.
Finally my neighbor raised his head.
Clearly, he said, someone must finish this story
which was, I believe, to have been
a love story such as silly women tell, meaning
very long, filled with tangents and distractions
meant to disguise the fundamental
tedium of its simplicities. But as, he said,
we have changed riders, we may as well change
horses at the same time. Now that the tale is mine,
I prefer that it be a meditation on existence.
The room grew very still.
I know what you think, he said; we all despise
stories that seem dry and interminable, but mine
will be a true love story,
if by love we mean the way we loved when we were young,
as though there were no time at all.
III.
stranded, I thought to myself,
like ships paralyzed by bad weather.
My neighbor had withdrawn into himself.
Something, I felt, existed between us,
nothing so final as a baby,
but real nevertheless—
Meanwhile, no one spoke.
No one rushed to get help
or knelt beside the prone woman.
The sun was going down; long shadows of the elms
spread like dark lakes over the grass.
Finally my neighbor raised his head.
Clearly, he said, someone must finish this story
which was, I believe, to have been
a love story such as silly women tell, meaning
very long, filled with tangents and distractions
meant to disguise the fundamental
tedium of its simplicities. But as, he said,
we have changed riders, we may as well change
horses at the same time. Now that the tale is mine,
I prefer that it be a meditation on existence.
The room grew very still.
I know what you think, he said; we all despise
stories that seem dry and interminable, but mine
will be a true love story,
if by love we mean the way we loved when we were young,
as though there were no time at all.
III.
Soon night fell. Automatically
the lights came on.
On the floor, the woman moved.
Someone had covered her with a blanket
which she thrust aside.
Is it morning, she said. She had
propped herself up somehow so she could see
the door. There was a bird, she said.
Someone is supposed to kiss it.
Perhaps it has been kissed already, my neighbor said.
Oh no, she said. Once it is kissed
it becomes a human being. So it cannot fly;
it can only sit and stand and lie down.
And kiss, my neighbor waggishly added.
Not anymore, she said. There was just the one time
to break the spell that had frozen its heart.
That was a bad trade, she said,
the wings for the kiss.
She gazed at us, like a figure on top of a mountain
looking down, though we were the ones looking down,
in actual fact. Obviously my mind is not what it was, she said.
Most of my facts have disappeared, but certain
underlying principles have been in consequence
exposed with surprising clarity.
The Chinese were right, she said, to revere the old.
Look at us, she said. We are all of us in this room
still waiting to be transformed. This is why we search for love.
We search for it all our lives,
even after we find it.
the lights came on.
On the floor, the woman moved.
Someone had covered her with a blanket
which she thrust aside.
Is it morning, she said. She had
propped herself up somehow so she could see
the door. There was a bird, she said.
Someone is supposed to kiss it.
Perhaps it has been kissed already, my neighbor said.
Oh no, she said. Once it is kissed
it becomes a human being. So it cannot fly;
it can only sit and stand and lie down.
And kiss, my neighbor waggishly added.
Not anymore, she said. There was just the one time
to break the spell that had frozen its heart.
That was a bad trade, she said,
the wings for the kiss.
She gazed at us, like a figure on top of a mountain
looking down, though we were the ones looking down,
in actual fact. Obviously my mind is not what it was, she said.
Most of my facts have disappeared, but certain
underlying principles have been in consequence
exposed with surprising clarity.
The Chinese were right, she said, to revere the old.
Look at us, she said. We are all of us in this room
still waiting to be transformed. This is why we search for love.
We search for it all our lives,
even after we find it.
Palabra (y voz)
"No hay mucho para caretear
cuando lo que te está vistiendo
es la voz", me dijo
un amigo por audio
y lo tuve que transcribir.
Canto XLV : With Usura - Ezra Pound / Con Usura (versión de Ernesto Cardenal y José Coronel Utrecho)
Canto XLV
Con Usura
Con usura ningún hombre tiene una casa de buena piedra
cada bloque pulido bien encajado
para que el dibujo pueda cubrir su cara,
con usura
ningún hombre tiene un paraíso pintado en la pared de su iglesia
harpes et lutes
o donde virgen reciba mensaje
y halo se proyecte de la incisión,
con usura
ningún hombre ve a Gonzaga sus herederos y sus concubinas
ninguna pintura es hecha para durar ni para vivir con ella
sino que es hecha para vender y vender pronto
con usura, pecado contra natura,
tu pan es cada vez más de trapos viejos
seco es tu pan como papel,
sin trigo de montaña ni harina fuerte
con usura la línea se hace gruesa
con usura no hay clara demarcación
y ningún hombre puede hallar sitio para su morada.
El tallador de piedra es alejado de su piedra,
el tejedor alejado de su telar
CON USURA
no viene lana al mercado
la oveja no da ganancia con la usura
La usura es una morriña, la usura
mella la aguja en la mano de la doncella
y detiene la habilidad de la hilandera. Pietro Lombardo
no vino por usura
Duccio no vino por usura
ni Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin no por usura
ni fue “La Calumnia” pintada.
No vino por usura Angélico; no vino Ambrogio Praedis,
No vino ninguna iglesia de piedra pulida firmada: Adamo me fecit.
No por usura St. Trophine
No por usura Saint Hilaire,
La usura ensarra el cincel
Ensarra el arte y el artesano
Roe el hilo en la rueca
Ninguna aprende a bordar oro en su bastidor;
El azur tiene un chancro por la usura; el cramoisi está sin bordar
La esmeralda no encuentra su Henling
La usura asesina al niño en el vientre
Impide el galantear del muchacho
Ha traído parálisis al lecho, yace
entre la novia y el esposo
CONTRA NATURAM
Han traído putas a Eleusis
Cadáveres se han sentado al banquete
invitados por la usura.
Versión de Ernesto Cardenal y José Coronel Utrecho, Ezra Pound, Antología, Madrid, Visor, 1983, pp. 105-106.
Canto XLV
With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that design might cover their face,
with usura
hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harpes et luz
or where virgin receiveth message
and halo projects from incision,
with usura
seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly
with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour
with usura the line grows thick
with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling.
Stonecutter is kept from his tone
weaver is kept from his loom
WITH USURA
wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura is a murrain, usura
blunteth the needle in the maid’s hand
and stoppeth the spinner’s cunning. Pietro Lombardo
came not by usura
Duccio came not by usura
nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin’ not by usura
nor was ‘La Calunnia’ painted.
Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,
Came no church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.
Not by usura St. Trophime
Not by usura Saint Hilaire,
Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling
Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man’s courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
CONTRA NATURAM
They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet
at behest of usura.
N.B. Usury: A charge for the use of purchasing power, levied without regard to production; often without regard to the possibilities of production. (Hence the failure of the Medici bank.)
Ezra Pound, "Canto XLV " from The Cantos of Ezra Pound. Copyright © 1993 by Ezra Pound. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.
Source: Cantos of Ezra Pound (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1993)
Fuente del poema en inglés: Poetry Foundation
Clases intensivas de inglés: Magical Mystery English
dg flyer: @reinaledesma
Doy clases de inglés.
Además:
* Corrección de textos
* Traducciones
* Preparación para exámenes
Y en marzo empiezo a dar clases intensivas para adolescentes de 13 a 17 años. Grupales presenciales y/o online.
Preparación para exámenes internacionales. Principalmente los de Cambridge University (PET, FCE y CAE)
Máx por grupo: 4 estudiantes.
Zona: San Telmo.
Contacto / Consultas: martinabenitezvibart@gmail.com
Llamado del deseoso - José Lezama Lima
Deseoso es aquel que huye de su madre.
Despedirse es cultivar un rocío para unirlo con la secularidad de la saliva.
La hondura del deseo no va por el secuestro del fruto.
Deseoso es dejar de ver a su madre.
Es la ausencia del sucedido de un día que se prolonga
y es la noche que esa ausencia se va ahondando como un cuchillo.
En esa ausencia se abre una torre, en esa torre baila un fuego hueco.
Y así se ensancha y la ausencia de la madre es un mar en calma.
Pero el huidizo no ve el cuchillo que le pregunta,
es la madre, de los postigos asegurados, de quien se huye.
Lo descendido en vieja sangre suena vacío.
La sangre es fría cuando desciende y cuando se esparce circulizada.
La madre es la fría y está cumplida.
Si es por la muerte, su peso es doble y ya no nos suelta.
No es por las puertas donde se asoma nuestro abandono.
Es por un claro donde la madre sigue marchando, pero ya no nos sigue.
Es por un claro, allí se ciega y bien nos deja.
Ay del que no marcha esa marcha donde la madre ya no le sigue, ay.
No es desconocerse, el conocerse sigue furioso como en sus días,
pero el seguirlo sería quemarse dos en un árbol,
y ella apetece mirar el árbol como una piedra,
como una piedra con la inscripción de ancianos juegos.
Nuestro deseo no es alcanzar o incorporar un fruto ácido.
El deseoso es el huidizo.
Y de los cabezazos con nuestras madres cae el planeta centro de mesa
y ¿de dónde huimos, si no es de nuestras madres de quien huimos
que nunca quieren recomenzar el mismo naipe, la misma
noche de igual ijada descomunal?
más Lezama Lima
En la librería de Mansalva... (La Internacional, Villa Crespo)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
Desde ayer, pueden encontrar mis dos libros ya publicados
en La Internacional librería, en Villa Crespo: Padilla 865
la librería de Editorial Mansalva.
Vayan, que es toda una experiencia!!
Saludos,
Martina
Calidez humana: Bienestar general
Debería ser una condición política de cada ciudadano
la presencia de amor en los lugares públicos, en la calle.
El cuidado de lo público hace bien a todos.
Porque también es de todos.
Y todos formamos parte.
Una conducta social de la que no haya ninguna duda
porque realmente cambia la calidad de vida.
La calidez humana en todos los ámbitos
y aspectos de la vida
es clave para el bienestar general.
The Garden of Eden with the Fall of Man - Peter Paul Rubens/ Jan Brueghel the Elder (c.1615)
The Garden of Eden with the Fall of Man
Peter Paul Rubens / Jan Brueghel the Elder (c.1615)
Consejo de Celestina - Rosario Castellanos
Desconfía del que ama: tiene hambre,
no quiere más que devorar.
Busca la compañía de los hartos.
Esos son los que dan.
Cardiograma (contratapa) - MBV (2026)
En sintonía con el día del amor, estoy contenta de poder compartir con uds el arte de contrapa de Cardiograma, mi tercer libro de poesía, muy pronto a salir...
Realizado por Tian Firpo @tianfirpo artista visual que conocí primero por los murales de músicxs argentinxs en persianas de Palermo sobre Honduras y Soler @esquinadelamusica y luego porque es socio y amigo de la biblioteca donde trabajo.
Para quien quiera colaborar con mi tercera criatura, lanzo la pre-venta del libro. Con la idea de presentarlo en mayo. Ahí se entregarán los ejemplares.
Cardiograma - MBV (2026)
En sintonía con el día del amor que se aproxima, estoy contenta de poder compartir con uds el arte de tapa de Cardiograma, mi tercer libro de poesía, muy pronto a salir...
Realizado por Tian Firpo @tianfirpo artista visual que conocí primero por los murales de músicxs argentinxs en persianas de Palermo sobre Honduras y Soler @esquinadelamusica y luego porque es socio y amigo de la biblioteca donde trabajo.
Para quien quiera colaborar con mi tercera criatura, lanzo la pre-venta del libro. Con la idea de presentarlo en mayo. Ahí se entregarán los ejemplares.
Precio / Contribución: 25.000.
Mi alias: mbvarteylibros
😊🌌
Pronto les compartiré más detalles...
Salud!!
https://www.instagram.com/mbvarteylibros
https://linktr.ee/martinabvibart
Suscribirse a:
Comentarios (Atom)