Monday, January 08, 2007


ARDE (Diciembre 2000, Acuarela)

1. Primera Parada
2. El Caballo del malo
3. Fortune�s show of our last
4. Times of Disaster
5. Primer tren de la ma�ana
6. La noche
7. La Espera
8. Suburbian empty movie theatre
9. Principios de agosto
10. The Guilt
11. Cuatro Estaciones
12. High of Defenses
13. Last Fool Around
14. Arde

There are two men, hardened and drunk. They walk by the wet roads of tonight. They try to march like ladies for a woman that follows them glad.
Was that night so violently cold, we thought the wind was howling for us.You looked at me, smiling and a desert reflects on your sight.
Please, please, love, be with me along 'til I become a lady like that! She never knew but that was the fortune�s show of our last.

All the girls on these times of disaster want a party I�m not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compass measure is the show.
When it would be so easy to give me a cure at night: some heat, some strength, near the dance floor. Just the softest 3 by 4 and you moving the head. No fear. No blankets. No pills. A hymn, yes.
All the girls on these times of disaster want a party I�m not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compass measure is the show.
Then it always comes the morning and it�s sometimes really quiet but always full of echoes of you. The newspaper speaking noisy and the countdown of parent�s wake. The shout of a life that it's silly and foul.

Puedes ver la noche desde un tren. Puedes ver casas apenas iluminadas, luces lejanas, piscinas vac�as y brillos, puedes ver. Y luego, ya no sentirte bien, un escalofr�o. Luces lejanas, piscinas vac�as y brillos.

She has now one or two friends but when she was a kid she had a cockatoo that ate granpa's cigarrettes and cursed when the priest came home. Sunny days, riding the waves, now it's all grey but I swear that when she had coffee with us, a dog on her knees, we got blue. And now she had decided, not to any of us, she's having a baby.

Today is a day of disaster -I’m on the same bar. Old known people pass by, it’s only my cousin that I call, as he goes to buy cigarettes and bread.
And through the glass, women look upon their shoulders I should be doing something else, in these times.
But, I’m sorry, it is the best I can do -I wonder if I can pay this bill- couples speak about their past. And it’s hard to speak without anger, of these times, yes, it’s very hard to speak without anger.
But I am glad that some are together and have children for their happiness.
I know I would be better doing something else, more than reading poetry. Like the girl I was here years ago with did. I’m glad some like them got married.
Now through the glass, women look upon their shoulders should I be doing something else, in these times?

Al d�a siguiente se levant� tarde. Despu�s de comer estuvo pensando en todo aquello, en las chicas de los veranos y en algunas apariciones m�s recientes como N., o J., X., S. y se sinti� verdaderamente solo. Pas� el resto de la tarde con un amigo hasta que se hizo de noche. Al llegar a casa se mir� en un espejo y sonri�. Su vida le pareci� transitada por decenas de cosas que caminaban de puntillas para no ser vistas.

If I could for a minute, succumb to the disaster of everyday, to let me go, let of cling to... I guess it would be possible to crash with one of the strangers that I cross by the street and have a premonition of happiness. But now, it�s sure that I can�t, and probably that�s why one ghost comes every night to rock my stupid guilt, and why its way�s a ring of fire. And when I finally sleep it�s always the same dream, sand falling fast in a glass bell. The sand very clean, the glass so weak.

You might watch him, right now! At the office, when nobody�s around. You might possibly see a rosary of pearls. Little tongues crossing his beard. And it�s strange but confirms that old theory about time: Each day you exist you have more crowns to clean.
So there he is, in the ill empty hall. Vainly trying to wipe his grieved soul. Feeling like a midnight queen of the house but knowing tomorrow it will be more than a crown. And it�s strange but, at least for a while, I like that man, that fat boy that sweats and could be me.

1 comment:

El Pez Sketchbook said...

Oh God! I love Migala!
Do you have, by any chance,
their "Restos de un Incendio"
album? It'd be so grateful
if you uploaded it.

Thanks again for all the music.
I've been exposed to great
artist since I found this site.