Hard Life Memory
by Wislawa Szymborska
I’m a poor audience for my memory.
She wants me to attend her voice nonstop,
but I fidget, fuss,
listen and don’t,
step out, come back, then leave again.
She wants all my time and attention.
She’s got no problem when I sleep.
The day’s a different matter, which upsets her.
She thrusts old letters, snapshots at me eagerly,
stirs up events both important and un-,
turns my eyes to overlooked views,
peoples them with my dead.
In her stories I’m always younger.
Which is nice, but why always the same story.
Every mirror holds different news for me.
She gets angry when I shrug my shoulders.
And takes revenge by hauling out old errors,
weighty, but easily forgotten.
Looks into my eyes, checks my reaction.
Then comforts me, it could be worse.
She wants me to live only for her and with her.
Ideally in a dark, locked room,
but my plans still feature today’s sun,
clouds in progress, ongoing roads.
At times I get fed up with her.
I suggest a separation. From now to eternity.
Then she smiles at me with pity,
since she knows it would be the end of me too.
STENCIL & GRAFFITIS · From DondeTuSabe
at Periódico Guamá · CONTRA EL MONGOLISMO MEDIÁTICO
L regresó de la Fermosa con estas imágenes, que compartió con el Periódico Guamá para que las divulgara... stencils y grafitis sobre el mármol de la tumba simbólica, la isla inerte y nos y los otros, sin poder verte... o no querer, o no poder, o no querer, o ...
Giuseppe Verdi. "AIDA". Atto 3.
Luxor. 1994. Queen Hatshepsut's temple.
Recitativo. Qui Radamès verrà... Che vorrà dirmi?
Romanza. O cieli azzurri... o dolci aure native
Aida - Wilhelmenia Fernandez
Musical Director - Enrico de Mori
Cairo Opera Symphony Orchestra
Orchestra Citta de Verona
Stage Director - Vittorio Rossi
Qui Radames verra!... Che vorra dirmi?
Io tremo... Ah! se tu vieni
A recarmi, o crudel, l'ultimo addio,
Del Nilo i cupi vortici
Mi daran tomba... e pace forse, e oblio.
O patria mia, mai piu ti revedro!
O cieli azzurri, o dolci aure native,
Dove sereno il nio mattin brillo,
O verdi colli, o profumate rive,
O patria mia, mai piu ti revedro!
O fresche valli, o queto asil beato,
Che un di promesso dall'amor mi fu;
Or che d'amore il sogno e dileguato,
O patria mia, non ti vedro mai piu!
Hard Life Memory
