Avalanche
Well I stepped into an avalanche,
it covered up my soul;
when I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold;
he does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.
When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind;
the crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.
I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.
Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
you don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure,
it is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.
it covered up my soul;
when I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold;
he does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.
When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind;
the crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.
I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.
Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
you don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure,
it is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.
posted by -merrick- at 11:02 a. m.
7 Comments:
Igualmente... http://www.muzieklijstjes.nl/Tips/CaveNFromher.jpg
a) ¿en esto hay que ser un poco piscólogo?
b) la psicología es una carrera. nosotros sabemos cosas...
ouuyeeah
b) es jose manuel, peluquero de entre otros, fraga y touriño. a) es nacho mirás, entrevistándole hoy en la voz de galicia acerca de los peluqueros y su mundo.
[el dedo, cada vez más dedo]
ostras! ¿piscólogo?
pisco1.
(De Pisco, ciudad peruana en el departamento de Ica).
1. m. Aguardiente de uva.
pisco2.
(Del quechua pishku).
1. m. Col. y Ven. pavo (ǁ ave galliforme).
2. m. despect. Col. Individuo de poca o ninguna importancia.
:))))
Mi abuelo era peluquero (o barbero). Aún tengo por ahí una maquinilla del 0.
Por cierto, que me salen una virutas por las patillas...
peluquero, pandereta y abuelo, qué suerte mon amie!! a los míos (masculinos) no los llegué a conocer.
pero mi primer trabajo fue llevar a tarsicio (ex-general del ejército) a la playa a hacer ejercicios terapéuticos (le habían amputado una pierna) o a acompañarlo a darse un baño.
ni pandereta ni peluqería pero llené el hueco con las batallitas de la guerra.
tolas, ahora, es mi padre. también tengo virutas, los tirabuzones asoman, debo cortarme el pelo pero me da pereza...hay que hablar
¿Te refieres a que hay que hablar con el peluquero? Eso es muy bueno. A veces me siento presionado y pienso cosas en plan "Tio, eres un mal cliente... mira al de al lado...hablan como si se conociera de toda la vida". Se podría decir mucho sobre esa situación.
Lo del peluquero y hablar con él etece me suena a un episodio de Seinfeld (ahora TODO es un episodio de Seinfeld... ¡probadme, probadme!) con un portero de edificio.
Publicar un comentario
<< Home