Ayer era San Braulio, uno de la plaga de santos que nos alteran el curso del curso; la semana que viene San Isidoro, pronto San Jorge. Pero bueno, no me voy a quejar when the saints go marching in. Más bien me quejo de que hoy no es San Braulio, aunque al menos es viernes, mi día favorito de la semana. He tenido una clasecilla de comentario de texto, donde hemos comentado este par de poemas: uno sobre la inspiración, útil para la página en blanco, de D. H. Lawrence:
The Song of a Man Who has Come Through
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course though the chaos of the world
Like a fine, and exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.
Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.
What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It's somebody wants to do us harm.
No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them.
Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Brought to me, like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the old Law did save,
And such as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind;
Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shin'd
So clear as in no face with more delight.
But oh! As to embrace me she inclin'd,
I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
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Blog de notas de
José Ángel García Landa
(Biescas y Zaragoza)
"Algo hay en el formato mismo de los blogs que estimula un desarrollo casi canceroso de nuestro ego" (John Hiler)