A walk in the forest

...gerade für spaß...

Música © Brian Crain

Deep Blue

Find a way and clear my soul

Driving out to get my goal

God knows I cannot stand

It's time to say goodbye

You don't know, you should have known

the pain I feel inside

So, I was dreaming of you

I was falling with you

and broke my heart

So, I was falling for you

I was dreaming with you

and broke my heart

Find a way and clear my soul

Driving out to get my goal

God knows I cannot stand

It's time to say goodbye

You don't know, you should've known

the pain I feel inside

Find a way to ease my breath

on and on to fill my chest

I can't stay, I cannot stay

cause only tears remain.

I can't hide, I cannot fight

and play this crying game

So, I was dreaming of you

I was falling with you

and broke my heart

So, I was falling for you

I was dreaming with you

and broke my heart

© Rodrigo Leao

Contigo en la distancia

No existe un momento del día

en que pueda apartarte de mí

el mundo parece distinto

cuando no estás junto a mí.

No hay bella melodía

en que no surjas tú

ni yo quiero escucharla

si no la escuchas tú.

Es que te has convertido

en parte de mi alma

ya nada me conforma

si no estás tú también.

Más allá de tus labios

del sol y las estrellas

contigo en la distancia

amado mío estoy.

© Lucho Gatica

¡Jesús!

La alergia es una respuesta exagerada del organismo cuando entra en contacto con determinadas sustancias provenientes del exterior.

Wikipedia dixit

Música: Cloudy this morning © George Winston

Toys not ties (An adult's lament)

"Men are born ignorant, not stupid; they are made stupid by education. "

Bertrand Rusell

Música © Nightnoise

Lo que el ojo no ve, pero la cámara sí (I)

Mi abuela se quejaba "¿porqué me tuvo que dar Dios nariz y tener que oler tanta porquería?". Si levantara la cabeza y se percatase de lo que tenemos que ver por tener ojos...

;-)

Música: Le Mariage (B.S.O. Cyrano de Bergerac) - Jean-Claude Petit

Violin Concerto

A violin concerto is a concerto for solo violin (occasionally, two or more violins) and instrumental ensemble, customarily orchestra. Such works have been written from the Baroque period, when the solo concerto form was first developed, up through the present day.

Wikipedia dixit.

Música: W.A. Mozart - Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major, K216 - Rondeau Allegro

Gestos (II)

Pero si lo que se desea es asegurar a toda costa la bonanza económica de los contrayentes, lo mejor es lanzar objetos de mayor contundencia que el arroz, (macarrones, alubias, macarrones y alubias...) directamente a la cara en la esperanza de acertar en los ojos y dejarles ciegos, lo que les garantizaría un puesto vitalicio en la ONCE.

Música: Muy crueles bozes dan (villancico anónimo). Jordi Savall

Gestos... (I)

Qué mejor manera de desear prosperidad a los recién casados que lanzándoles arroz a la salida de la iglesia. ¿Y si además se les quiere desear buena salud, y a la vez fomentar el comercio justo, todo en un mismo gesto? ¡¡¡Arroz integral ecuatoriano, y dejémonos de tonterías!!!

;-)

Música: J.S. Bach - Concerto for two Violins And Orchestra No.3 in d minor, Vivace BWV 1043

The End

And in the end

The love you take

Is equal to the love

You make

© The Beatles

A cidade e os campos

Longe das aldeias, longe das casas

Ouvimos cantar todas as fontes

E na solidão dos velhos montes

Beijamos as águas dos ribeiros

Mas de tudo já esqueceste

Neste mundo tudo muda

Agora estou triste e sozinho

Nesta cidade escura e fria

Onde a vida é uma agonia

Minha vida

Vida

© Madredeus

Son cuatro días

Duerme la ciudad y en un local oscuro junto al mar
está tocando un músico de jazz.
Miras hacia mí y en tus ojos cansados puedo ver
que hay un nombre escrito de mujer.
De su guitarra se van notas de fuego;
los acordes de cristal, hacia la eternidad.
Viejas canciones de amor, viejos poemas.
Entre el humo y el alcohol, la noche suena a jazz.

Duerme la ciudad y una muchacha negra entra en el bar.
Parece borracha -a ver quién no lo está-.
Duerme la ciudad y una muchacha negra entra en el bar

Grita que los blancos huelen mal.
Años luz de soledad. Recuérdame cuando me vaya.
Besa el mar la arena gris y en la ciudad la noche canta.
Son cuatro días. La noche canta.
Sentado en un rincón mirando a dos gatos retozar.
Triste estampa ser rey de la creación,
mientras toca un músico de jazz.
De su guitarra se van notas de fuego;
los acordes de cristal, hacia la eternidad.
Viejas canciones de amor, viejos poemas.
Entre el humo y el alcohol, la noche suena a jazz.
Años luz de soledad. Recuérdame cuando me vaya.
Besa el mar la arena gris y en la ciudad la noche canta.
Son cuatro días. La noche canta...

© El último de la fila

Of a summer morn'

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Henry David Thoreau dixit
Música © Nightnoise

Inside looking out

To touch the sky
A dreamer must be
Someone who has more imagination than me

To reach the stars
A dreamer must fly
Somehow he must live more of a lifetime than I
For sands of time won't wait
And it may be too late

Now is the hour and the moment
Don't let the chance go by
Your ship is sailing with the high tide
And all your dreams are on the inside

On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
Looking out, looking out, looking out

To change the world
A dreamer must be
Someone who has more determination than me

To free his soul
A dreamer must fly
Somewhere he must find a better reason than I
The hands of time won't wait
And we may be too late

Now is the hour and the moment
Don't let a day pass by
Your ship is sailing with the high tide
You could be standing on the inside
On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
Looking out, looking out, looking out

© The Alan Parsons Project

What it is?

The drinking dens are spilling out
There's staggering in the square
There's lads and lasses falling about
And a crackling in the air
Down around the dungeon doors
The shelters in the queues
Everybody's looking for
Somebody's arms to fall into
And it's what it is
It's what it is now

There's frost on the graves and the monuments
But the taverns are warm in town
People curse the government
And shovel hot food down
The lights are out in city hall
The castle and the keep
The moon shines down upon it all
The legless and asleep

And it's cold on a tollgate
With the wagons creeping through
Cold on a tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it’s what it is
It's what it is now

The garrison sleeps and the citadel
With the ghosts and the ancient stones
High up on the parapet
A Scottish piper stands alone
And high on the wind
The highland drums begin to roll
And something from the past just comes
And stares into my soul

And it's cold on a tollgate
Where the Caledonian blues
Cold on a tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it’s what it is
It's what it is now
What it is
It's what it is now

There's a chink of light
There's a burning wick
There's a lantern in the tower
Wee Willie Winkie with a candlestick
Still writing songs in the wee wee hours
On Charlotte Street I take
A walking stick from my hotel
The ghost of Dirty Dick
Is still in search of Little Nell
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
Oh it's what it is
What it is now

© Mark Knopfler

Body & Soul

“Salary is no object: I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.”

Dorothy Parker

Music © Glenn Miller

Lullaby

Calla mi vida,
no hay que llorar,
duerme y sueña feliz.

Siempre tú debes

mi arrullo llevar,
así yo estaré junto a ti.

Nana tradicional

Música © George Gershwin

Sweet little mistery

My love has taken a tumble
Oh, but I’m still standing
You’re such a natural, sing,
That’s what you are

Say I wouldn’t steer you wrong now baby
I wouldn’t steer you wrong

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,

Didn’t I come resisting this sight of wonder?
Didn’t I come insisting the higher decision?
Didn’t I come resisting this sight of wonder?
To your life

Say I wouldn’t steer you wrong now baby
I wouldn’t steer you wrong

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,

Oh, just think of the magic
Don’t think it is tragic,
Just think of the magic

Come on listen

My love has taken a tumble
My love has taken a tumble
My love has taken a tumble
But I’m still standing

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try

© Wet Wet Wet

Moss garden

What is Life?

Resembles Life what once was held of Light,
Too ample in itself for human sight ?
An absolute Self--an element ungrounded—
All, that we see, all colours of all shade
By encroach of darkness made ?—
Is very life by consciousness unbounded ?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death ?

Texto © Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Música © David Bowie & Brian Eno

El milagro

Muere lentamente quien se transforma en esclavo del hábito, repitiendo todos los días los mismos trayectos, quien no cambia de marca, no arriesga vestir un color nuevo y no le habla a quien no conoce.

Muere lentamente quien hace de la televisión su gurú.

Muere lentamente quien evita una pasión, quien prefiere el negro sobre blanco y los puntos sobre las "íes" a un remolino de emociones, justamente las que rescatan el brillo de los ojos, sonrisas de los bostezos, corazones a los tropiezos y sentimientos.

Muere lentamente quien no voltea la mesa cuando está infeliz en el trabajo, quien no arriesga lo cierto por lo incierto para ir detrás de un sueño, quien no se permite por lo menos una vez en la vida, huir de los consejos sensatos.

Muere lentamente quien no viaja, quien no lee, quien no oye música, quien no encuentra gracia en sí mismo.

Muere lentamente quien destruye su amor propio, quien no se deja ayudar.

Muere lentamente, quien pasa los días quejándose de su mala suerte o de la lluvia incesante.

Muere lentamente, quien abandona un proyecto antes de iniciarlo, no preguntando de un asunto que desconoce o no respondiendo cuando le indagan sobre algo que sabe.

Evitemos la muerte en suaves cuotas, recordando siempre que estar vivo exige un esfuerzo mucho mayor que el simple hecho de respirar.

Solamente la ardiente paciencia hará que conquistemos una espléndida felicidad.

Texto © Pablo Neruda

Música © Lito Vitale