Simon and Me
Ayer busco las primeras líneas de ese poema de Armitage que tengo citado acá arriba, ese que arranca Of all the public places to make a scene, dear, I have chose here. No podia acordarme cómo seguía (tenía el librito en casa, regalo de mi madre, claro) y lo googlié.
Pobre señor Armitage. Espero no haya hecho lo mismo él para encontrarse…conmigo.
Labels: Googleing
posted by Charlotte at 7:26 AM
11 Comments:
Google te da los resultados que te pueden interesar a vos particularmente, de acuerdo a los sitios a los que uno entra frecuentemente, ya que guarda un registro. No creo que a Simon le pase que le salga tu sitio
Besos
Uf! Aliviada. Gracias Wanda. JAJJAJA, re rubia tonta estuve. Beso
yo googlee y me sale lo mismo
Yo cuando me googleo me sale un montón de info sobre una mina que se llama exactamente igual que yo, pero que es super exitosa. De mí no sale nada, no hice nada memorable. O googleable..
hola, donde puedo encontrar el poema entero?
Eso buscaba yo. lo terminé encontrando en mi libro. despuñes lo copio. tá bueno.
http://images.google.com.br/images?client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:pt-BR:official&channel=s&hl=pt-BR&source=hp&q=simon%20armitage&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wi
me dio a mi. te sale eso en argentina. asi que tranqui.
thanks, char. i`ll be waiting
Give
Of all the public places, dear
To make a scene, I´ve chosen here.
Of all the doorways in the world
To choose to sleep, I´ve chosen yours.
I´m on the street, under the stars.
For coppers I can dance or sing.
Fpr silver-swallow swords, eat fire.
For gold- escape from locks and chains.
It´s not as if I´m holding out
For frankincense or myrrh, just change.
You give me tea. That´s big of you.
I´m on my knees. I beg of you.
It`s lovely.Thanks a bunch, char!
I`m not much for poems, but here`s one of my favourites, by Charles Bukowski:
"are you Charles Bukowski,
the writer?"
"yes," I tell them.
and the tell me
that they understand my
writing,
and some of them are writers
or want to be writers
and they have dull and
horrible jobs
and they can't face the room
the apartment
the walls
that night -
they want somebody to talk
to,
and they can't believe
that I can't help them
that I don't know the words.
they can't believe
that often now
I double up in my room
grab my gut
and say
"Jesus Jesus Jesus, not
again!"
they can't believe
that the loveless people
the streets
the loneliness
the walls
are mine too.
and when I hang up the phone
they think I have held back my
secret.
I don't write out of
knowledge.
when the phone rings
I too would like to hear words
that might ease
some of this.
that's why my number's
listed.
De nadas. Thanks right back at you.
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