Artwork: unexpect´d trippy remake of the wellknown b&w photo of Einstein mocking -yes, the dark circle is the photo- [full size recommended]

Text: Finally, an intention of translation of an old, yet current, writing of mine... I felt like making the effort and translating it to post it, now, dunno why... who knows. Maybe because I was quite forgetting about it...?

What about *your* mission? Do you know what it is about? Do share, please. =)

[Note for any good hearted being who may read this: It is a translation, if I was to rewrite it in English directly, it´d sound differently, probably better, but not exactly as I wrote it.]

Mission [Spanish original]

Okay. I admit it. I definitely accept the mission and what I have come to do to this world. I promised I´d do it being 23. I´ve taken my time, true. It´s been hard to stop believing in certain things and dig up the old parchment where I´d signed my universal contract. I don´t remember (still don´t want to) what made me choose this story, this game and within it: this role. Shall I trust my condition, my identity - like many times before - to avoid underestimating myself at moments that are out of my conscious reach. Perhaps the reason of my choice was so strong that I´ve chosen to forget it, too, in order not to carry it as a burden, for I actually wished it´d disappear.

I accept my mission. And if it is necessary, I´ll sign wherever requested again. What is a pothook on paper when the true commitment is sealed in a more 'real' way in my spirit?

I disregarded my goal several times. I tried hard to avoid it, to forget it, to become deaf to that side of me that kept on saying "don´t forget what you´ve come to". Enough. The prelude has come to an end and after much practice I lost my fear. And my fear to fear. I finally laughed at the dull illusion that weariness, boredom and suffering were made for me. That humiliation would watermark me and my limitations curse me forever. I know it, bah... always I knew it. Injustice and tragedy are the worse forms of self denial.

You see, it´s hard not to listen to the masses, religion, history... those who play the 'your parents' part, your family. It is not easy to validate and expose a couple of evident truths if they belong to another paradigm, to another vision that´s not the current one. Even though it´s about this same world. Vanguard is a very painful disease. At best it may become an unbearable itching. As well, no matter how hard you try, it´s rarely contagious... and up to date it´s acknowledged as mortal to all who suffer it.

Most people believe that life will lead them to suffering and solitude, sooner or later. And as we are, it seems, like obsessed machines programmed to empirically demonstrate what we believe in, we seek sadness, misfortune and every thing that may hurt us, just to be able to reaffirm our logic, closing the syllogism which we have been raised up with, which we have chosen to be adrift of, stubbornly. I ponder: Haven´t we all experienced doing well what "we know" -that is: "we believe in advance"- that we are able to do correctly, while, on the contrary, we found ourselves impotent and clumsy at those tasks which we have built up a poor image of our own abilities? Come on! That demonstrates it better than anything. Better than everything. What if we swapped things? Yes... I know the feeling. It´s called vertigo and it´s very similar to falling into the abyss.

A friend, Albert, tried to say to the world: "everything depends on your system of reference". A total cinema fan, he complicated the simplicity of its message to make it feasible to the ordinary human reason. Thus he developed a whole new theory in Physics which ended up hacking "the absolutely true" Mechanics of Newton. He dedicated his life in this world to looking for a way to spread the word on this ultimate Truth, at least for this side of the galaxy. Albert! You really made an effort, dear. Nonetheless, humanity gave herself the luxury of even repudiating or denying your thoughts. But you know it, just as me and many others: "we are free to do what we please". And that was your wish, and you went for it. You didn´t expect them to understand, neither apprehend your simple wisdom... that of a soul just a little bit more opened to listen to the history each apex of matter or what it is the same, each expression of energy in any space-time, tells.

You laughed while you remained silent. And you gave conferences and millions read you, studied you and listened to you. Few caught your message, but disappointment doesn´t suit you. Because that is your choice. And you didn´t take the journey in this planet to be sad. Your mastery is condensed in one single act, in one image: literally, brilliantly, mockingly, you sticked your tongue out to the world.

Jorge Luis, how many questions I´d love to ask you. Today I will see if I request to be dreamed dreaming about you to find you, since I don´t remember precisely where are you these days. You know that there are few interlocutors who to have fun with talking of these things. And I´d love you could be one of them to me. I want to hear you telling me about those thousand smiles you must have drawn in your face while you were playing, writing what later was going to be taken as an Ethic and a Philosophy. Come on, you also already knew it and you didn´t waste time going against the tide. All in all, it was as simple as that you didn´t have any reason why. I´d like ask you: why did you go blind? And why progressively? Perhaps... finally the world showed you so much misery and emptiness that you chose not to 'see it', literally, anymore...? Was that your decision? Instead of depression and sadness for what you would not change anyway, did you decide not to see it anymore? Was it that way, really? Something inside me says that I am right.

I don´t want to go away -further- from the reason of my writing. So, here I state that today I accept my wisdom, my role and my game, and my goal in this vital cycle. Even though I may be seen and labeled as mad or insane. I will be happy and I´ll spare my light to whom may wish and seek for it. I will not make great and marvelous miracles. I know, at least, that I didn´t sign any clause to do that. However, I know that I´ll change in some degree the life of those who surround me and I´ll try to share my truth there where I may feel it´s necessary. I´ll be subject of criticism, pointing fingers, as well as of love and devotion. And I´ll not fear those who shall approach me. I´ll play a thousand stories, and I´ll be thousand characters and I´ll live those thousand lives. And at all times, in all spaces and presents I´ll remember my wish and that I have the faculties to carry it out.

And that I am free to change and resign whenever I want to. AMEN

Gisela Giardino
August 25, 2002 A. C.

The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.

-William James

I wanted to share this with all my friends... with the same love it has been shared with me.

I posted this image in my album in Flickr (all the pictures uploaded so far from our FABULOUS trip to Cannes (our = Baptiste and Me) you will find them here, I will make up an album here more complete soon)


...and my friendest Malcom shared these wise words with me... wise as usual. From the Little Prince. Worth reading it... really worth reading...

"Chapter XVI - The Dreamer

"Before going to earth," the little prince thought to himself quietly,
"I will go visit that small planet." The little round planet was
rainbow colored and it spun slowly as if not wanting to disturb
anyone's peace. As he took his first step on the planet's ground, the
little prince gazed all about, trying to see everything at once. The
sky was split into two parts; one showing the velvet midnight blue
color of night, it's stars each trying to outshine the other; while
the other side of the sky was sunny with a sky of light blue. Fluffy
white clouds seemed to make faces at each other as they constantly
changed their shapes. And everywhere, everywhere the little prince
looked something new would appear and disappear. He continued to walk
along until he finally saw someone he could talk to. A man was asleep,
lying on the floor in a curled up position. The little prince sighed
and kneeled next to the man, waiting for him to wake up so he could
ask him about this funny planet.

After a few moments of waiting, the man half turned and his eyes
opened and shut.

"Sir?" The little prince asked aloud. The man turned to face the boy.
"Who are you?"

"I am the dreamer." The man sighed softly, trying to stop a yawn from
coming out. He sat up slowly. "And this," He continued, " is my
planet. It's where dreams are created before being shipped off to
earth."

"A dream planet." The little prince commented. He pondered this and
then cocked his head to one side. "Do you create the dreams?" The
dreamer smiled and half nodded.

"Somewhat. I have helpers though." No sooner had the dreamer finished
answering that the little prince had another question ready for him.

"Why do you create them?"

"Because dreams keep hope alive on earth."

"Hope?"

"Yes, hope."

"Do earthlings not have enough hope?" The little boy asked, a bit
confused. Why would anyone need help in something so simple as hoping?
The dreamer gave a slight sad smile before answering.

"Some have enough... but some, some have lives that are too
complicated for them and they forget to keep hoping."

"Why are their lives too complicated?"

"Men have forgotten what is essential in life and this causes many of
the complications. They try to replace the essential by something
trifle, like money and land. But their replacements make them hurry
about everywhere or they just start fighting until some don't even
care enough to live."

"But... why?" The little prince pleaded. "I don't understand." The
dreamer smiled and patted the boy's head.

"Sometimes, neither do I." And his last comment made the little prince
think. Made him think of his flower and his volcanoes at home. 'I hope
they're okay and that the baobabs haven't taken over the planet.' He
thought with some homesickness.

"Mr. Dreamer," The little prince suddenly asked. "Could I be a
helper?" He suddenly wanted so much to have some company and to have
something to do. At seeing the boy's eagerness, the dreamer's joyful
face faded a bit.

"I'm afraid that can't be done." And before the little prince could
ask why, the dreamer answered him with a far off voice. "I have
dreamed of many things and one of them is of your voyage to earth. You
must go now and remember to keep hoping, little prince. That shall
bring you back home whenever you need it." The dreamer silently gave a
wave and then curled back up, falling asleep. The little prince stared
for a minute and then trudged away. And only when he was on his way to
earth did a single question strike him. How had the dreamer known of
his voyage?"

Dude, it´s me there! =)

About two months ago, Natasha, a designer from Australia emailed me asking me for permission to use this picture of myself for a non-profit work her company, www.redcreative.com was about to make. She didn´t mention the details about the project but she told me that the image was exactly what they needed and they were to use it in graphic art (poster) and probably in the project website. She said that her company uses to make some spare time to dedicate it to non-profit projects in their community.

I accepted gladly, because from every point of view it looked great. Not just flattering because they were asking for my photo, but for the fact of being of help in a non-profit work. I was giving a hand, I thought. Cool. =)

Yesterday, Natasha finally sent me a pdf file with the poster they made. And this is a jpg image of it. I loved it as an artwork, but what was really shocking was to get to know the subject of the project. You can read it in the poster (large size), and you can also visit the play´s website www.readmylips.com.au (I am there, too =). Having myself faced in my childhood and early teenage years the problems of the play talks about -and still fight, since it is conduct pattern you are always in danger to go back to-, I find it incredible that I was being the front cover of a project which main goal is to spread the word about this kind of problems to help people suffering from them, and their friends and families.

Life is bewildering at times. Today I find myself, without having searched for it, helping a cause that is helping me as well to vindicate and heal my own pain and wounds of the past.

I am forever thankful to Natasha, whom I told about this and yet can´t believe about this invisible connection between me and the play, and Georgia, the author of the play (which is autobiographical) for leading this project, which I hope can help so many people suffering. So many more than the many you can image. Unfortunately. =(

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

This prose was inspired in the life of Charly Garcia, the best and craziest argentian musician ever, imo. He is a mad as most master artists of all times.

 I wrote this months before moving to this flat I now live in, which was Charly´s flat 3 years before. I didn´t know about this until I got in here finally and the flat owner told me the story. So Charly´s spirit rumbles somehow within these walls, and I can feel him at times.

(If I have time later I will translate it to English. Sorry!)

la locura envolvía su cuerpo como llamas que a veces eran un calor tibio y otras un incendio... ya no tenía dónde escapar, porque.. a dónde escapa uno cuando es de sí mismo? cómo haces para dejarte tirado en algún rincón, olvidarte en una esquina, perderte en una manifestación o una fiesta... cómo te dejas?

él tampoco podía, hasta que empezó a tratarse a sí mismo de "él", en tercera persona... fue una buena jugada, él ya no era él, era otro, porque se trataba de "el señor", "el muchacho", "aquel viejo", no importaba ya que hiciera las peores atrocidades o se lascerara de mil modos, él era "él" y no "yo"... astuta su mente que encontró un desvío sencillo para esa ecuación perversa y mientras tanto seguir siendo y haciendo como hasta siempre...

porque es que había cambiado? o más bien había buscado la forma de cambiar todo para ser el mismo? naturalmente lo último sucede, la adaptación es una mentira de libro, sólo existen estos juegos de la mente, estos engaños que permiten que puedas ser a pesar de ti... aún asi él no era feliz,

muchos me dirán...es cierto, él no quería ser feliz, por qué iba a querer serlo? o mejor expresado aun quizá, qué es "ser feliz"? si es haber encontrado la forma de ser a pesar de todo y todos, pues bien, ese hombre era feliz... a pesar de él mismo a pesar de su vida de su pasado de su mundo... si sólo había un inconveniente era que al hablar de sí como de otra persona su mente no había resuelto quién enunciaba las palabras.... quien era ese otro "él" que hablaba de él como de un tercero.... con lo cual el era nada... tan sólo una nada más de las que caminan por este mundo arrebatado de nadas ambulantes...

si, tan nada como yo o como tú que tampoco eres nada... problema lógico si los hubo alguna vez, ya que cuando él no era él sino aquel otro del que luego siendo nada hablaba, no se acordaba de lo que hacía, que era el objetivo primero de su desviación mental, y cuando se ponía como observador de ese otro, era nada.... entonces teníamos un presente hecho de un tercero y una nada y un pasado inascible por definición... por suerte quienes lo rodeaban supieron ver que el muchacho de ropas siempre algo desprolijas y pelo enredado tenía valor... y a cada una de las cosas que el otro él llevaba a cabo, quienes hermosamente bien lo estimaban las supieron vender por miles, hasta millones...

un gran artista... bien por él, o más bien bien por ellos exclusivamente porque que mientras él no era él o cuando era nada (cualquiera de sus dos estados) estaba sólo... hablaba consigo mismo, se acariciaba el rostro o se abrazaba acurrucado en su cama...

dónde te vas cuando en realidad no estás? ni estarás? para partir debes haber llegado y nunca lo había hecho del todo... por eso no podía irse, por eso era nada, por eso estaba sólo, por eso era un loco...

pero me pregunto qué locura es esa.... qué locura más distinta a la normalidad de muchos otros...

me pregunto... quién no ha querido escapar de sí mismo, quién no ha sido nada, quién no ha sido vendido por sus seres queridos a un buen postor, quiénes no se han abrazado en una cama sintiendo la soledad que penetra los huesos y el frío de un cuarto vacío, sin pasado... sin presente...

quién puede decir que no es preso de sí mismo?

Literally

Neither nakedness nor matted hair

nor mud nor the refusal of food

nor sleeping on the bare ground

nor dust & dirt nor squatting austerities

cleanses the mortal who's not gone beyond doubt.

 

If, though adorned, one lives in tune with

the chaste life --calmed, tamed & assured--

having put down the rod toward all beings,

he's a contemplative

a brahmin

a monk.

-Dhammapada, 10, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.

 

I can think of so many implications derived from this statement...

"The one who practices loving-kindness sleeps and wakes in comfort and has no bad dreams; he is dear to both humans and creatures; no danger harms him. His mind can be quickly concentrated, his expression is happy and serene. He dies without any confusion of mind. Loving-kindness protects him."

-Anguttara Nikaya

To get a quote like this:

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." -Dalai Lama

Followed by this:



Life has this little pleasures...



Source:
Daily newsletters from www.beliefnet.com and www.ucomics.com
 

Sin Amor...


La inteligencia sin amor...
Te hace perverso
La justicia sin amor...
Te hace implacable
La diplomacia sin amor...
Te hace hipócrita
El éxito sin amor...
Te hace arrogante
La riqueza sin amor...
Te hace avaro
La docilidad sin amor...
Te hace servil
La pobreza sin amor...
Te hace orgulloso
La verdad sin amor...
Te hace hiriente
La autoridad sin amor...
Te hace tirano
El trabajo sin amor...
Te hace esclavo
La pasión sin amor...
Te hace promiscuo
La oración sin amor...
Te hace introvertido
La ley sin amor...
Te esclaviza
La fe sin amor...
Te fanatiza
La cruz sin amor,...
Se convierte en injusta tortura
La vida sin amor...
No tiene sentido

********************************************

Without Love...

"Intelligence without love...
makes you perverse

Justice without love...
makes you inflexible

Diplomacy without love...
makes you a hypocrite

Success without love...
makes you arrogant

Wealth without love...
makes you greedy

To be docile without love...
makes you servile

Poverty without love...
makes you haughty

The Truth without love...
makes you harmful

Authority without love..
Makes you a tirane

Working without love...
Makes you a slave

Passion without love...
Makes you promiscuous

Praying without love...
Makes you an introvert

The Law without love..
Makes you a prisoner

Faith without love..
Makes you a fanatic

The Cross without love
becomes an unfair torture

Life without love...
Is meaningless."

I want to tell you,

Today that there are still words in my mouth,
that there´s air still in my lungs and yours,
because maybe tomorrow won´t be the same,
today that I´ve got you close enough
to let my feelings reach you, no matter how,
that it´s not late yet, that is here and now... always.

I want to tell you how much you mean to me, how much do I care.
That so many times I wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you and I couldn´t...
that I´ve felt so sad in our distances, in my miseries, when I caused you pain, or went wrong so many times...
Even walking the path of love and good will.
I want to tell you that I´ve cried for you, when I saw you cry...
when others hurt you, or have been unfair with you,
when my hands brought pain and suffering onto you.

I want to tell you how much do I pity that life sometimes put us in deserts or cages,
filled with darkness, ghosts and bitter memories.
That I extremely fear violence,
that the fight kills me without even beginning,
that hardness breaks me, burns me,
that I don´t understand so many things about this world we are part of...

I want to tell you that to love you don´t have to be a hero,
that it is not a moment, or a place where to go... it is a path.
That there is no greater pleasure than knowing you are an instrument of love,
feeling that somebody is fine and that you have to do with that,
for your presence, your words, your deeds,
That to let be, comprehend and to foster freedom is the most loving of all our actions,
That Life pays off with the same currency,
That when you give love, you get it back with no conditions,
That even in the deepest sadness and loneliness there is Hope...
While you feel present in your heart the love you´ve got to give.

I want to tell you that I am only for you and through you,
that I can´t find a reason to live other than to bring light, love and hope...
That even when I hit the hardest wall,
or I stumble with the largest stone,
or the load in my shoulder would be about to make me collapse,
I still think that there is something left I can do, something to give,
That this cannot be my final moment.
That I wish you could feel likewise,
so in the worst storm you don´t abandon to helplessness,
neither give up, and wait patiently for the sun to come.


I want to tell you that you are in my heart,
that I can´t recover from my childish dreams,
that I still imagine that we can be love,
despite distances, pain, sadness, our mistakes...
that I imagine us building a better place,
that we can be more those ones treading this path,
That I won´t renounce to my fantasy.

That I know how much you need me, simply because:
I know how much do I need you.
And while things are this way there is nothing lost.

Everything is to be done.



Gisela (2002)
Original spanish version

Background Music I wrote this Poem with:
"On the turning away" .mp3
Song lyrics
by Pink Floyd in "A momentary Lapse of Reason"
Right click link, "save as" option to download song, 8MB.

----- Original Message -----
From: "Jeremy Selvanayagam"
To: "Gisela Giardino"
Sent: Saturday, January 01, 2005 6:46 PM
Subject: hi gisela


Hi So Sorry for not getting back to you sooner
I am helping with the tsunami relief work distributing food and supplies.
It's really crazy ... the Tsunami hit the beach near my house. 5
minutes walking distance from my house. Some girl friends from Norway
visiting and I went to town that day by bus and we saw the boat thrown
from sea onto the road real us. Another friend was almost hit by
another boat. Today we went to check on the villages and the
volunteers were helping to put sad to cover all the mud from the sea
so that later they can tear down the houses to build new houses in
that area.
My father's uncle was killed by the tsunami in Sri Lanka. His
helper's daughters were also killed. He was 82 years old and the
helpers family were all teenagers. Everything is destroyed. Is so
sad.
Some organizations are working with me now like the US Geological
Survey (USGS), National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA),
and many other are helping me put together statistics and info
together to help people.
http://thanks4supporting.us/tsunami - all the latest info and
statistics are here.

Pls help us tell as many friends and people as you can by email about
the link. if you can add it to your websites it will help too. We
need all the help now.

Tomorrow we are providing 6 vans and drivers to take a team to another
badly hit town to help give food, school shoes and uniforms to school
children, and many other supplies.

I gotta run. Take care Gisela.

--
With Regards

Jeremy Rizal Selvanayagam
Founder, ejrs.com website services & more...
Business Division of EJRS Networking (PG0118991-M)
9 Oldham Road, Tg Bungah, 11200 Penang, Malaysia
Free software, tips etc: http://ejrs.com/converters

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+ 2 months free webhosting when you purchase 10 months webhosting

We have our own webservers located in Florida.
EJRS.COM - AXANDRA.COM Partnership
Get 20% discount or Arelis 4 and IBP
http://ejrs.com/axandra.html

http://fish-hooked.com ><(((">
http://reelinthefish.net ><(((">

********************************************

Jer and I are coworkers and colleagues. I won a contest and created the his www.reelinthefish.net template.

Not a happy new year at my city... a discotheque caught fire because of
a flare someone sparked inside during a concert. The place was overcrowed with
6000 people (4000 was its max capacity). 10 blocks from home.

The worst
tragedy ever in Buenos Aires.

href="http://bcadiou.multiply.com/journal/item/38">Baptiste, from France, has
covered this from the beginning.

This won´t be a happy new year
here, not at all. R.I.P. (most of the death: children and young kids of 15 to 25
years)

EDITED: Shit. I´ve just come to now that one niece of a close
friend of Mom -who she was going to spend the new year´s eve with- was there and
coulnd´t make it. Jesus. Of course there is no party at that home tonight.


It is crazy that I was walking home from celebrating with a friend and I
passed 5 blocks from there at midnight, the very moment of the drama... It is
impossible not to put things in perspective when such things happen. I could
have never been at a place like that, but truth is that if any other night club
caught fire, the tragedy would be the same. As it was:

"For
example, in the December 1993 fire that swept through the Kheyvis discotheque in
Buenos Aires, the sparks and resulting fire were caused by the negligence of the
owners and the lack of enforcement of safety standards.

Seventeen young
people died and 24 were injured. The locale had neither fire extinguishers,
ventilation, nor suitable fire exits. And although it was designed for a maximum
of 150 people, 600 were packed in the dance hall that night. " href="http://ipsnews.net/interna.asp?idnews=24971">source

The crime
remains unpunished. The kids were at a graduation party. My brother was
there. But had left the building minutes ago because he felt sick. Maybe he
breathed the smoke. The fire began silently from a coach... I don´t mean to put
you down, sorry, it is just that this is so sad and it fills me with anger
because it could have been prevented.

Today I wrote your name with white rose petals
And the playful breeze whispered in my ear:
"I will undo your wonderful art, but don´t be sad."
So in tears... tears of love, I replied:

"Warm breeze of nostalgy, do erase my writings.
Delete their fleeting present..."
The breeze, puzzled, stopped for a second.
-What fun it would be to play with the letters of that name
if the girl doesn´t care?

"Please, pass through each of this petals,
and breath all their perfume.
Take their scent with you, their soul,
even when that costs me that they will vanish from my eyes"

"So much do I love this man, that I wish him all the paths,
all the melted ice valleys, all the forests, the hills and the rivers.
So take his soul to every corner of this world,
show him freedom in each moment...
the sweetness of the night,
the intoxicating nostalgy of what will never be,
Show him, breeze, that freedom is the purest lover of man
his everyday dawn, his nourishing honey..."

The breeze was listening in full attention.

"Look at his eyes, and don´t confuse them with the sky.
Look at him one time and then come back to me, breeze.
Sit here by my side and tell me...
What have those eyes told you in that instant.
Only then I will know if he loves me
Only then I will know if I have to wait for him.


*************************************************************
This and the 3 previous poems were written by me in the dates mentioned. Unfortunately, translations are never good enough, but I hope they can deliver the message I want to share with you.
*************************************************************.

Original (2000) La niña y la Brisa:

Hoy escribí tu nombre con pétalos de rosas blancas.....
y la brisa juguetona me susurró al oído
"desarmaré tu hermosa obra....pero no te pongas triste"....
Yo, con lágrimas en los ojos, lágrimas de amor, le contesté:

"Brisa tibia de nostalgia, deshace mis escritos.
Borra ahora su efímero presente...."
La brisa sorprendida, se detuvo un instante.
¿qué gracia tendría ahora jugar con las letras de aquel nombre
si a la niña no le afecta.....?

Por favor, pasa por entre cada uno de estos pétalos
y respira todo su perfume.
Llévate su esencia, su alma,
aunque el precio sea que se desvanezca ante mis ojos...
Amo tanto este hombre que le deseo todos los caminos,
todos los valles de deshielo, todos los bosques,
los cerros y los rios...
lleva su alma a cada rincón de este hermoso mundo
y enséñale la libertad en cada instante...
la dulzura de la noche, y la nostalgia embriagadora de lo que ya no será...
muéstrale, brisa, que la libertad es el amante más puro del hombre,
es su amanecer de cada día, es la miel que lo alimenta...

...la brisa escuchaba muy atenta...

Y cuando haya visto todo,
haya olido todos los aromas,
haya pisado todos los suelos
y navegado todos los mares.
Sólo en ese momento,
cuéntale de mí, de mis lágrimas, de mi amor...
háblale de que lo dejé ir contigo
y de que sólo quise saberlo feliz.

Míralo a los ojos y no te los confundas con el cielo.
Míralo una sola vez y vuelve a mí, brisa...
siéntate a mi lado y susúrrame
qué te han contado sus ojos en ese instante...
sólo así podré saber si me ama...
sólo así sabré si debo esperarlo.


(image: Lladró Porcelain artwork. "Samurai")

I dreamed that you were running away,
wrecked by bitter confusion
You could glimpse eternal, fleeting...
unreachable islands
You thought that the stifling scream of your soul
would never catch you
You thought "maybe today´s the day".
It was.

I dreamed that you were growing up
among shadows
Shadows of what you have been...
Undressing your soul in the evil ritual
of looking at yourself
Only an invisible and fierce thread
contained the world from your illusion.

I woke up to tell you that is you the one dreaming
That your confusions,
the suffocating clamor of your senses...
and your shadows,
were only lost images.
That there are true islands...
at least one longs for you.

I woke up,
I want to wake you up.
Today is the day.

**************************************************************
Original (1998)

Soñé que corrías como un náufrago de una confusión amarga.
Veías islas eternas, fugaces, inalcanzables.
Creías que el ahogado clamor de tu alma jamás te alcanzaría.
Pensabas, "tal vez hoy sea el día".
Lo era.

Soñé que crecías entre sombras,
sombras de lo que ya no eres.
Desvestías tu alma ante el maléfico rito de mirarte a ti mismo
Sólo un hilo invisible y feroz contenía al mundo de tu ilusión

Desperté para decirte que eres tú quien sueña.
Que tus confusiones,
el grito sofocante de tus sentidos y tus sombras,
eran sólo imágenes perdidas.
Que sí hay islas....por lo menos una está anhelándote.

Desperté...
Quiero despertarte...
Hoy es el día.

I have given you my secret words in silence
all my smiles... and a thousand tears
I´ve seen light in your eyes.

Drifted by the tide of an intoxicating vigil
that tries helplessly to rectify me...
Pilgrim in a path where the horizon doesn´t matter,
but only the pleasure in each of my steps...
Between my sheets I find you
And I dream you, awake

In the frontier, my illusion squats
And corners me against the wall.
With wise and crazy disdain...
scribbling my heart with your logic,
I whisper "I love you"
I make a wish...

Because you have crossed the fence of my soul
and under the shelter of my embrace,
of my velvet wings
you´ve found asylum

And when I see you safe in my clothes
Is you who saves me, who paints hopes
in the perpetual canvas.
And my life makes sense.

***********************************************************
Original (2002)

Te he regalado mis palabras secretas en silencio
todas mis sonrisas... y mil lagrimas
He visto luz en tus ojos

A la deriva de una embrigante vigilia
que intenta vanamente enderezarme
peregrina de un camino en el que no importa
el horizonte sino el placer de los pasos
entre mis sabanas te encuentro
y te sueño despierta

En la frontera mi ilusion se agazapa
y me arincona contra el muro
con desden sabio y loco
garabateando mi corazon con tu logica
murmuro un te amo
pido un deseo...

Porque has cruzado la verja de mi alma
y en el refugio de mi abrazo
y el terciopelo de mi alas
has encontrado asilo

Y al verte a salvo entre mis ropas,
eres tu quien me rescata,
quien pinta esperanzas
en el lienzo perpetuo.
Y mi vida cobra sentido

Music is my only element of contact...
to reproduce, precisely
the frequency my soul vibrates at.
The one I sealed my contract with,
when I promised you all my instants,
all my sounds, all my silences.

Close to dawn,
I count the hours...
My heart beats with ferocity
to the hits of your distance.

"Today I give my self
to the man of the red cape.
Wrapped in his arms
I sell all my moments
for touching your lips,
just for one time."

And the old man dressed in fire,
tells me that my wish will come true.
when I could hear the Sign...
"ciphered in a melody."

I can get no sleep.

I must find the sign...
I must find the sign.

******************************************************************
Original (´01):

No es más que la música mi elemento de contacto....
Reproducir precisamente
la frecuencia en que vibra mi alma....
con la que sellé mi pacto...
en la que te juré todos los instantes,
todos los sonidos y todos los silencios.

Víspera del amanecer
cuento las horas.
El corazón late feroz
golpea tu distancia....
"Hoy y para siempre me entrego
al señor de capa roja...
y en sus brazos vendo todos mis momentos
por rozarte los labios,
siquiera una vez."

Y el viejo de ropas de fuego
asegura que mi deseo ha cumplirse,
que sólo debo escuchar el signo.
"cifrado en una melodia."

Ya no duerno.

Debo encontrar el signo...
debo encontrar el signo...