dijous, 26 de març del 2009

Constreny-los a perfer-se i que penetri la suprema dolçor

Una nova recomanació del poeta Josep Gerona. La rebo com qui reb una postal, no calen gaires explicacions: l'amic, en algun moment, ha pensat a compartir amb tu un punt lúcid, una revelació, una la bellesa que enlluerna.

En aquest cas un poema de Rilke, "Dia de tardor". Us l'enllaço des d'el Bloc de Josep Porcar, o des d'el canal de blocdelletres a VIMEO.


DIA DE TARDOR

Senyor, el temps ha arribat. Enorme fou l’estiu.
Projecta la teva ombra en els rellotges
de sol i deixa córrer els vents per les planures.

Als últims fruits ordena de ser plens;
dos dies més de sud dóna’ls encara,
constreny-los a perfer-se i que penetri
en el vi fort la suprema dolçor.

Qui ara no té casa, ja no la bastirà.
Qui ara es troba sol, ho estarà molt de temps,
vetllarà, llegirà, escriurà llargues cartes
i per les avingudes vagarà inquiet
d’aquí d’allà, mentre les fulles giravolten.

R.M. Rilke.
(Versió de Joan Vinyoli)

«Herbsttag», de Rainer Maria Rilke from blocsdelletres on Vimeo.

diumenge, 22 de març del 2009

Cold water

Avui sona això al meu cap.




COLD WATER
Tom Waits (Mule variations, 1999).

Well I woke up this morning
with the cold water, with the cold water, with the cold water.
Woke up this morning
with the cold water, with the cold water, with the cold water.


Police at the station
And they don't look friendly, well they don't look friendly, they don't look friendly.
Police at the station
And they don't look friendly, they don't look friendly well, they don't.

Blind or crippled, sharp or dull, I'm reading the Bible by a 40 watt bulb.
What price freedom, dirt is my rug,
Well I sleep like a baby with the snakes and the bugs.

Well the stores are open but I ain't got no money,
I ain't got no money.
Stores are open but I ain't got no money, ain't got no money, well I ain't.

Found an old dog and he seems to like me, seems to like me,
well he seems to like me.
Found an old dog and he seems to like me, seems to like me, well he seems.

Seen them fellows with the card board signs
scrapin up a little $ to buy a bottle of wine.

Pregnant women and the Vietnam vets I say beggin on the freeway
bout as hard as it gets

Well I slept in the graveyard, it was cool and still
Cool and still, i t was cool and still
Slept in the graveyard
It was cool and still, cool and still and it was cool.

Slept all night in the Cedar grove
I was born to ramble born to rove

Some men are searchin for the Holy Grail
But there ain't nothin sweeter than ridin the rails.

I LOOK 47 but I'm 24,
well they shooed me away
from here the time before
turned there their backs
and they locked their doors.

I'm watching T.V. in
The window of a furniture store.

Well I woke up this morning
with the cold water ...

diumenge, 15 de març del 2009

August and everything after.

L'any 93 Counting Crows sonava als meus auriculars i al cassette del cotxe. La banda sonora que envoltava al nano desconcertat que jo era aleshores, tot i estrenar professió, tot i que m’endinsava en el futur, el meu futur, amb l’arrogància que atorga el no saber.

Tot això ve a tomb perquè acabo de recordar com m’agradava aquesta cançó: “Round Here”, del seu disc “August and everything after”. Un disc ple d’evocacions, que no puc escoltar sense estremir-me una i altra vegada. Quina capacitat d’adherir-se als moments té la música...


YouTube no permet la inserció del vídeo, però us deixo l’enllaç AQUÍ. I també us deixo la lletra. Quin inici: "Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white".

ROUND HERE

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
where no one notices the contrast of white on white
And in between the moon and you the angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right
I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back again
Where? I don’t know
Maria says she is dying through the door I hear her crying
Why? I don’t know

Round here we always stand up straight
Round here something radiates

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand
She said shed like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis
She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
Just like she is walking on a wire in the circus
She parks her car outside of my house
Takes her clothes off
Says she is close to understanding Jesus
She knows she is more than just a little misunderstood
She has trouble acting normal when she is nervous

Round here were carving out our names
Round here we all look the same
Round here we talk just like lions
But we sacrifice like lambs
Round here she is slipping through my hands

Sleeping children better run like the wind
Out of the lightning dream
Mamas little baby better get herself in
Out of the lightning

She says its only in my head
She says shhh I know its only in my head
But the girl on car in the parking lot says
man you should try to take a shot
Cant you see my walls are crumbling?
Then she looks up at the building and says she is thinking of jumping
She says she is tired of life she must be tired of something

Round here she is always on my mind
Round here hey man got lots of time
Round here were never sent to bed early
And nobody makes us wait
Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late
I cant see nothing, nothing round here
Catch me if I’m falling.

Counting Crows,
August and everything after.

Geffen 1993


L’any 96, mentre l’A. acabava el seu “exili” va arribar “Recovering the Satellites” però aquell va ser una mica menys el nostre disc, oi A.?

Us deixo amb una cançoneta prou bonica “A long december”. El vídeo oficial és AQUEST (tampoc no és permesa la inserció), us deixo amb una versió en directe:





Dolços somnis. Bona nit.

diumenge, 1 de març del 2009

Efímera, lluminosa i obscura, República de Weimar.

Només consignar l'encertadíssim artícle de Muñoz Molina al Babelia d’aquesta setmana (enllaç, fent clik aquí), sobre la República de Weimar. Efímera, fascinant i terrorífica, República de Weimar.

No hi trobaràs res del Berlín novelesc de la república de Weimar al Berlín d’avui. Recordo haver fet ben bé el ruc preguntant-li al conserge de l’hotel com arribar al "barri antic". Ignorava l’abast de la destrucció que la segona guerra mundial va suposar a les ciutats centreeuropees. Amb el candor propi del turista imaginava que arreu les ciutats, com les d’aquí, havien de tenir un "barri antic".

Jo pensava visitar l'Alexanderplatz... hi ho vaig fer... aleshores era una esplanada enorme a on els soldats soviètics hi feien desfilades.

Res, consignar l'artícle de Muñoz Molina al Babelia d’aquesta setmana (enllaç, fent clik aquí).

Que tinguis una bona setmana, “Victorcito”.