Muerte
Eres sueño de un dios; cuando despierte
¿al seno tornarás de que surgiste?
Serás al cabo lo que un día fuiste?
¿Parto de desnacer será tu muerte?
El sueño yace en la vigilia inerte?
Por dicha aquí el misterio nos asiste;
para remedio de la vida triste,
secreto inquebrantable es nuestra suerte.
Deja en la niebla hundido tu futuro
ye tranquilo a dar tu último paso,
que cuanto menos luz, vas más seguro.
Aurora de otro mundo es nuestro ocaso?
Sueña, alma mía, en tu sendero oscuro:
"Morir… dormir… dormir… soñar acaso!"
– Miguel de Unamuno (escritor y filósofo español, 1864-1936)
Lo que estoy escuchando en este momento.
David Bowie, "My Death." En origen la canción fue hecho por el cantor bélgico Jacques Brel en francés. Bowie la cantó en su período Ziggy Stardust en los 70.
Lyrics.
My death waits like an old roué
so confident I'll go his way
whistle to him and the passing time…
My death waits like a bible truth
at the funeral of my youth
weep loud for that –
and the passing time…
My death waits like
a witch at night
as surely as our love is bright
let's not think about the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
there is nothing much to do…
angel or devil, I don't care
for in front of that door…
there is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
who sees the world through an unlit mind
throw him a dime
for the passing time…
My death waits there between your thighs
your cool fingers will close my eyes
lets think of that and the passing time
My death waits to allow my friends
a few good times before it ends
so let's drink to that and the passing time
But what ever lies behind the door,
there is nothing much to do
angel or devil… I don't care
for in front of that door… there is you
My death waits there among the leaves
in magicians mysterious sleeves
rabbits and dogs and the passing time
my death waits there among the flowers
where the blackest shadow, blackest shadow cowers
let's pick lilacs for the passing time
My death waits there, in a double bed
sails of oblivion at my head
so pull up the sheets
against the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
there is nothing much to do
angel or devil… I dont care
for in front of that door… there is…
[daily log (11 pm): walking, 5 km]