Izuzetan glumac, koji potpuno ozivljava svoje uloge.
@Storm
Ja sam uglavnom nalazio na spanskom, i to mi je bilo dovoljno
Na engleskom retko, evo par njih:
The Parade Ends - Reynaldo Arenas
Passing through the exploding streets,
since the pipes are ready to give out
passing around the buildings, we need to dodge,
since they are falling onto us,
between the hostile faces scrutinizing and sentencing us,
between the closed establishments,
closed markets,
closed movie theaters,
closed parks,
closed cafés.
Exhibiting already dusty signs (justifications) occasionally,
CLOSED FOR REFORMS,
CLOSED FOR REPARATION.
What kind of reparation?
When will this alleged reparation, alleged reform end?
When at least
will it begin?
Closed... closed... closed...
everything closed...
I arrive and open the innumerable locks, run up the improvised stairwell.
There she is waiting for me.
I discover her, remove the canvas and contemplate her dusty and cold
dimensions.
I get rid of the dust and caress her.
With the slightest brushes from my palms, I clean her back, her base, her
sides.
I feel desperate, happy, at her side, before her,
I run my hands over her keys, and rapidly, everything is set in motion.
The ta ta, the jingling, the music starts, little by little, already much
faster,
now, at the greatest velocity.
Walls, trees, streets,
cathedrals, faces and beaches,
cells, mini-cells,
giant cells,
starry night, naked
feet, pine groves, clouds
hundreds, thousands,
a million parrots
piano stools and a vine.
Everything shows up, everything arrives, everyone comes.
The walls expand, the ceiling disappears and, naturally, you float,
you float, float ripped apart, swept along,
elevated,
taken, transported, eternalized,
saved, for the sake of, and
for this miniscule and constant cadence,
for this music,
for this incessant jingling.
My Lover the Sea
I am that child with the round, dirty face
who on every corner bothers you with his
"can you spare a quarter?"
I am that child with the dirty face
no doubt unwanted
that from far away contemplates coaches
where other children
emit laughter and jump up and down considerably
I am that unlikeable child
definitely unwanted
with the round dirty face
who before the giant street lights or
under the grandames also illuminated
or in front of the little girls that seem to levitate
projects the insult of his dirty face
I am that angry and lonely child of always,
that throws you the insult of that angry child of always
and warns you:
if hypocritically you pat me on the head
I would take that opportunity to steal your wallet.
I am that child of always
before the panorama of imminent terror,
imminent leprosy, imminent fleas,
of offenses and the imminent crime.
I am that repulsive child that improvises a bed
out of an old cardboard box and waits,
certain that you will accompany me.
