"If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music." Albert Einstein
Declaración de intenciones
jueves, 3 de diciembre de 2009
The lights go down
martes, 3 de noviembre de 2009
Sad eyes
martes, 27 de octubre de 2009
viernes, 23 de octubre de 2009
Beyond the sea
jueves, 22 de octubre de 2009
Autumn leaves
viernes, 9 de octubre de 2009
jueves, 8 de octubre de 2009
miércoles, 7 de octubre de 2009
Por solidaridad y...
martes, 25 de agosto de 2009
Irish love
viernes, 21 de agosto de 2009
Between the lines
There's never much to say between the moments of
our games and repartee
There's never much to read between the lines of
what we need and what we'll take
There's never much to talk about or say aloud,
but say it anyway
Of holidays and yesterdays, and broken dreams
that somehow slipped away
In books and magazines on how to be and what to see
while you are being
Before and after photographs teach how to pass
from reaching to believing
We live beyond our means on other people's dreams
and that's succeeding
Between the lines of photographs I've seen the past --
it isn't pleasing
So strike another match
We'll have another cup of wine
And dance until the evening's dead
Of too much song and time
There's never much to talk about
Or read between the lines
Of what we dream about
When we're apart
And no one's looking on
To say you're mine
It was a good year then, it was a good year then,
we all remember
The time you threw the looking glass and seemed a fool
or very clever
Don't spoil it all, I can't recall a time when you were
struck without an answer
We'll live a quiet peaceful time between the lines
and go together
And I'm striking up the band to play our last hurrah
We'll dance until we've killed another evening off
Don't think of anyone but me
I'll have no lovers on the side
Tonight is all we've ever dreamed about
For once let's get it right
We'll go down flying in the end
Through another bottle in between the lines
I'll go down like a ship of state
Let's be gracious now
Between the lines
martes, 18 de agosto de 2009
Soy una taza, una tetera...
miércoles, 12 de agosto de 2009
Solitude standing
martes, 4 de agosto de 2009
sábado, 1 de agosto de 2009
martes, 28 de julio de 2009
Shed a little light
En lo que a este blog se refiere, gracias a ese "click" están volviendo a mi vida viejos temas hace tiempo olvidados. Lo que no sé es cómo voy a apañármelas para, haciendo otro tipo de "click", dotar a esos viejos-nuevos temas de imágenes a su altura.
Gracias por devolverme a James, Marta ;)
lunes, 27 de julio de 2009
At my front door
Knocking at my front door
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
Just like she did it before
I woke up this morning with a feeling of despair
I telephoned my baby but she wasn't there
Heard someone knocking and much to my surprise
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
Just like she did it before
If you got a little mama
Teach your little mama right from wrong
Tell her that you love her like you did before
She'll come knock, knock, knocking at your door
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
Just like she did it before
Crazy little mama come knocking
Knocking at my front door, door, door
Crazy little mama come knocking
Knocking at my front door
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
Just like she did before
If you got a little mama
And you want to get along
Teach your little mama right from wrong
And If you tell her that you love her like you did before
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
Just like she did it before
Crazy little mama come knock, knock, knocking
martes, 14 de julio de 2009
Watching over me
viernes, 10 de julio de 2009
Naranjo en flor
- Era más blanda que el agua,
- que el agua blanda.
- Era más fresca que el río,
- naranjo en flor.
- Y en esa calle de estío,
- calle perdida,
- dejó un pedazo de vida
- y se marchó.
- Primero hay que saber sufrir,
- después amar, después partir
- y, al fin, andar sin pensamientos.
- Perfume de naranjo en flor,
- promesas vanas de un amor
- que se escaparon con el viento.
- Después, ¿qué importa del después?
- Toda mi vida es el ayer
- que me detiene en el pasado.
- ¡Eterna y vieja juventud,
- que me ha dejado acobardado
- como un pájaro sin luz!
- ¿Qué le habrán hecho mis manos?
- ¿Qué le habrán hecho
- para dejarme en el pecho
- tanto dolor?
- Dolor de vieja arboleda,
- canción de esquina
- con un pedazo de vida,
- naranjo en flor.