lunes, 28 de noviembre de 2011

El terrible valor de las cosas.


Fromm, E. Prologo a la edición inglesa de 1960 de Bellamy, E. El año 200, una visión retrospectiva, Ed. Abraxas, Barcelona, 2000, págs. 30-31.

"Las cosas ocuparan el primer puesto y el hombre habrá muerto, hablara de libertad y de individualidad, mientras no será nada."

martes, 22 de noviembre de 2011

martes, 15 de noviembre de 2011

Mad Girl’s Love Song. Sylvia Plath


Mad Girl’s Love Song


I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Sylvia Plath

A Moveable Feast (aquella gran decepción)


“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast