mercredi 20 février 2013

Lo que pasó, pasó



for lions in their dens





Have I a body or have I none?
Am I who I am or am I not?
Pondering these questions,
I sit leaning against the cliff while the
years go by,
Till the green grass grows between my feet
And the red dust settles on my head,
And the men of the world, thinking me dead,
Come with offerings of wine and fruit
to lay by my corpse.

My mind is like the autumn moon
Shining clean and clear in the green pool.
No, that is not a good comparison.
Tell me, how shall I explain?

In the late sun I descended the western hill,
Light streaming over the grass and trees,
Till I came to a dark and gloomy place
Where pines and creepers grew thick together.
Within crouched many tigers;
When they saw me, their fur stood on end.
Not so much as a knife in my hand,
Did I not gasp with fear?

So Han-shan writes you these words,
These words no one will believe.
Honey is sweet; men love the taste.
Medicine is bitter and hard to swallow.
What soothes the feelings brings contentment,
What opposes the will calls forth anger.
Yet I ask you to look at the wooden puppets,
Worn out by their moment of play on the stage!

Do you have the poems of Han-shan in your house?
They're better for you than sutra-reading!
Write them out and paste them on a screen
Where you can glance them over from time to time. 



Cold Mountain


Han-shan










- sin tu permiso -



nadie te puede comer el corazón




ya sabes


descanza


nadie te va a comer el corazón


 nadie te va a enjaular
  

ya sabes que es



lo que pasó







pasó










De l'éther à la terre : 

un pas, tout bas, vers la sortie s'achemine.

(2007)