That’s how the light gets in.
Publicado: 30 noviembre, 2013 Archivado en: Uncategorized Deja un comentarioAnthem
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government —
signs for all to see.
I can’t run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring …
You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
de camino a…
Publicado: 29 noviembre, 2013 Archivado en: Uncategorized Deja un comentario
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise.
William Blake
suspendida
Publicado: 13 noviembre, 2013 Archivado en: Uncategorized Deja un comentarioy, de pronto, me convierto por un momento en fragante arbusto.
nada
Publicado: 13 noviembre, 2013 Archivado en: Uncategorized Deja un comentario
Éste que ves, engaño colorido,
que, del arte ostentando los primores,
con falsos silogismos de colores
es cauteloso engaño del sentido;
éste, en quien la lisonja ha pretendido
excusar de los años los horrores,
y venciendo del tiempo los rigores
triunfar de la vejez y del olvido:
es un vano artificio del cuidado;
es una flor al viento delicada;
es un resguardo inútil para el hado;
es una necia diligencia errada;
es un afán caduco y, bien mirado,
es cadáver, es polvo, es sombra, es nada.
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
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