To Mr. John Moore, Author of the Celebrated Worm-Powder
How much, egregious Moor, are we
Deceiv’d by Shews and Forms!
Whate’er we think, whate’er we see,
All Humankind are Worms.
Man is a very Worm by Birth,
Vile Reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the Earth,
Then shrinks to Earth again.
That Woman is a Worm we find,
E’er since our Grandame’s Evil;
She first convers’d with her own Kind,
That antient Worm, the Devil.
The Learn’d themselves we Book-Worms name;
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm;
The Nymph whose Tail is all on Flame
Is aptly term’d a Glow-worm:
The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a Day;
First from a Worm they take their Rise,
And in a Worm decay:
The Flatterer an Earwig grows;
Thus Worms suit all Conditions;
Misers are Muckworms, Silk-worms Beaus,
And Death-watches Physicians.
That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen
By all their winding Play;
Their Conscience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them Night and Day.
Ah Moore! thy skill were well employ’d,
And greater Gain would rise,
if thou could’st make the Courtier void
The Worm that never dies!
O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who sett’st our Entrails free!
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms shall eat ev’n thee.
Our Fate thou ounly can’st adjourn
Some few short Years, no more!
Ev’n Button’s Wits to Worms shall turn,
Who Maggots were before.
—
Un recordatorio para Mariela Castro, a propósito de sus palabras recientes.
Gracias a Miriam Gómez por el poema.
A mi lo de la Marielita plin, porque si desde chico fui considerado un gusano despreciable -y a mucha honra- por las sabandijas de su familia…. pero bueno, la sorpresa y el desaliento para otros es algo nuevo -quiero decir para muchos que cambiaron casaca despues de gritar paredon y ser parte de la maquinaria castrista, y para otros que son la directa creacion de los estudios de villa marista…..
Sòlo tengo dos lenguas… una para hablar y otra para callar…
… Hay alguna traducciòn recomendable?…
Gracias…
Saludos a la Sra. Miriam Gòmez… Buen dìa… si es posible…
THE SECOND COMING
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Yeats, my my beloved poet when I was still a romantic and believed in some type of god….
?Existira en el planeta otra hija de un pdte, dictador o monarca vitalicio que se atreva a declarar entre sornas, en un pais extranjero, que conoce prostitutas de su pais que cdo se les rompe el inodoro ofrecen servicio sexual a cambio de su arreglo, y a los pocos dias, de vuelta a su Palacio de la Rev. con tono grave, austero, vindicativo denuncie el atropello que denigra a muchas de ellas? ?Alguien tendra un ejemplo de familia mas cinica,lombricera, canalla, hipocrita y rastrera?
Lost in the images, but happily so…
Gracias Miriam Gómez.
Mejor mandarle a Mariela algo más a su nivel, como un porno bien cochino. Aparte de eso, dudo que sepa inglés, aunque por lo menos ella no es jefe de estado como Zapatero, que inglés no sabe.