Wednesday, September 20, 2017

"Canción"

«Llueve en este poema»
E. C.

Llueve. La tarde es una
hoja de niebla. Llueve.

La tarde está mojada
de tu misma tristeza.
A veces viene el aire
con su canción. A veces…
Siento el alma apretada
contra tu voz ausente.

Llueve. Y estoy pensando
en ti. Y estoy soñando.
Nadie vendrá esta tarde
a mi dolor cerrado.
Nadie. Solo tu ausencia
que me duele en las horas.
Mañana tu presencia regresará en la rosa.

Yo pienso —cae la lluvia—
en tu mirada tierna.
Niña como las frutas,
grata como una fiesta
hoy está atardeciendo
tu nombre en mi poema.

A veces viene el agua
a mirar la ventana
y tú no estás
A veces te presiento cercana.

Humildemente vuelve
tu despedida triste.
Humildemente y todo
humilde: los jazmines,
los rosales del huerto

y mi llanto en declive.
Oh, corazón ausente:
qué grande es ser humilde!

31 de diciembre de 1944

Gabriel García Márquez


Saturday, September 09, 2017

Una vida...

La búsqueda de una lectura extraordinaria continúa porque aquella selección de cuentos tampoco me gustó mucho. Ahora vuelvo a empezar Gabriel García Márquez: Una Vida de Gerald Martin. A ver si es verdad que a la tercera va la vencida. Por ahora el sutil sentido del humor del inglés expresado en español me encanta…

* * *

He estado diecisiete años trabajando en la biografía. Contrariamente a lo que me decía todo aquel con quien hablaba en los primeros estadios del proyecto («No conseguirás acceder a él, y si lo haces, no “cooperará”»), conocía a mi hombre a los pocos meses de acometer el proyecto, y aunque no puede decirse que desbordaba de entusiasmo («¿Por qué quieres escribir una biografía? Las biografías significan la muerte»), se mostró cordial, hospitalario y tolerante. De hecho, siempre que me han preguntado si esta es una biografía autorizada, mi respuesta ha sido invariablemente la misma: «No, no es una biografía autorizada, es una biografía tolerada». No obstante, para sorpresa y gratitud mías, en 2006 el propio García Márquez dijo ante los medios de todo el mundo que yo era su biógrafo «oficial». ¡Así que probablemente yo sea su único biógrafo oficialmente tolerado! Ha sido un privilegio extraordinario.

Gerald Martin, Gabriel García Márquez: Una Vida

Copyright de la traducción © por Eugenia Vázquez Nacarino

Edición de Vintage Español
Una división de Random House, Inc.
Nueva York

Thursday, September 07, 2017

За Алиса и как през Огледалния свят стигнах до испаноамерикански разкази от '70те...


Много рядко ми се случва да се откажа от някоя книга преди дори да съм стигнала средата. С „Алиса в Огледалния свят“ обаче се случи точно това, не знам защо. „Алиса в Страната на чудесата“ я прочетох доста бързо – не бях особено впечатлена, но поне я довърших... Даже се развълнувах леко при появата на мъдрата Чеширска котка и на Гъсеницата. В Огледалния свят се препънах още в самото начало на трета глава –  някак си пчелите-слонове добиващи неописуеми количества мед от огромни цветя-имения без покрив не успяха да ме докоснат. Сега, за разнообразие и необходимо възстановяване след разочароващо четиво, се връщам към испаноезичните корени, че после и за българските имам планове. Отидох до чуждестранната секция на библиотеката (личната имам предвид) и тази книжка ми намигна.

Важно!!! Това е само личното ми мнение. В никой случай не искам и не се опитвам да оценявам или критикувам британската класика на Луис Карол.

© Христиана Бобева, 2017



Saturday, September 02, 2017

"Cheshire Puss"


‘Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. `Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. `Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
‘I don't much care where--' said Alice.
‘Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
‘--so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
‘Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, `if you only walk long enough.'
Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. `What sort of people live about here?'
‘In that direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round, `lives a Hatter: and in that direction,' waving the other paw, `lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
‘But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
‘Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
‘How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
‘You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on `And how do you know that you're mad?'
‘To begin with,' said the Cat, `a dog's not mad. You grant that?'
‘I suppose so,' said Alice.
‘Well, then,' the Cat went on, `you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.'
/From CHAPTER VI – Pig and Pepper/

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

© John Tenniel