Tacere

A veces me gustaría vivir en un planeta lo suficientemente pequeño como para poder hacer ese truco que hacía el principito, sólo mover mi silla un poquito y poder seguir viendo el atardecer.

je ne se rien de l'amour

mais je suis qu'il n'aime pas hésite

(ouvre ta bouche et place mon nom dedans
laisse-le là sur la langue)




(words, both written and sung: Rupa and the April Fishes': C'est moi et Maintenant)

What blame to us if the heart live on (or a kitten in the wilderness, or, we can still love the world)

We make our meek adjustments,

Contented with such random consolations

As the wind deposits

In slithered and too ample pockets.

For we can still love the world, who find

A famished kitten on the step, and know

Recesses for it from the fury of the street,

Or warm torn elbow coverts.

We will sidestep, and to the final smirk

Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb

That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,

Facing the dull squint with what innocence

And what surprise!

And yet these fine collapses are not lies

More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane;

Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise.

We can evade you, and all else but the heart:

What blame to us if the heart live on.

The game enforces smirks; but we have seen

The moon in lonely alleys make

A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,

And through all sound of gaiety and quest

Have heard a kitten in the wilderness.

Hart Crane, “Chaplinesque”.