Tuesday, 28 October 2008


"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go. Things go wrong so that you can appreciate them when they're right. You believe lies so eventually you learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."
- Marilyn Monroe

Saturday, 18 October 2008

Bugler tonight, don't play the call to arms

Lili Marlen fue una canción de origen alemán (basada en un poema escrito por un soldado) que pronto se extendio y fue cantada por soldados de todas las nacionalidades en la segunda guerra mundial.
Solo viene a demostrar que quizás los alemanes y los aliados tenian más en común de lo que pensaron, que en el fondo todos somos humanos. No existe ni el bien ni el mal, por lo menos no en terminos de 'una persona malvada'.
Y si piensas que matar a un hermano es justificable, no sabría que decir.

Marlene Dietrich tiene grabadas una versión en alemán y otra en inglés, aunque hay grabaciones incontables, para él que le interese.

La guerra nunca tiene justificación.

Lili Marleen

Outside the barracks, by the cornerlight
I'll always stand and wait for you at night.
We will create a world for two,
I'll wait for you, the whole night through.
For you, Lili Marleen.
For you, Lili Marleen.

Bugler tonight, don't play the call to arms
I want to spend another evening with her charms.
Then we will say goodbye and part,
I'll always keep you in my heart.
With me, Lili Marleen.
With me, Lili Marleen.

Give me a rose, to show how much you care,
Tie to the stem a lock of golden hair.
Surely tomorrow you'll feel blue,
But then will come a love that's new.
For you, Lili Marleen.
For you, Lili Marleen.

When we are marching, in the mud and cold,
And when my pack seems more than I can hold
My love for you renews my might;
I'm warm again, my pack is light.
It's you, Lili Marleen.
It's you, Lili Marleen.

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Wish You Were Here.

Stare blankly into space,

fly across the sun

You have lost face

you are loved by noone.

Land your trust,

lost its trace

Others' memories turn to dust

somewhere in some other place.

Sad spectacle of the human race...

-Something I worked on in math class...

Sunday, 12 October 2008

Funeral Blues

W.H. Auden (1907-1973)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.