domingo, 31 de diciembre de 2023

POR TIEMPO ATRÁS (FOR AULD LANG SYNE)

 POR TIEMPO ATRÁS (FOR AULD LANG SYNE)

Canción popular escocesa de Año Nuevo

Traducción de Sandra Dermark

.........

¿Los viejos conocidos no

se han nunca de olvidar?

Vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

..................

Por tiempo atrás, amor,

por tiempo atrás,

vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

...........

Tomémonos un trago,

tal vez dos o tal vez tres,

o cuatro, o cinco, o seis

o tal vez siete de una vez.

.........

Por tiempo atrás, amor,

por tiempo atrás,

vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

.........

Si del local nos cierran 

de la entrada el portón,

conozco una taberna

que no cierra en Castellón.

...........

Por tiempo atrás, amor,

por tiempo atrás,

vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

........

¿Los viejos conocidos no

se han nunca de olvidar?

Vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

..................

Por tiempo atrás, amor,

por tiempo atrás,

vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

Por tiempo atrás, amor,

por tiempo atrás,

vamos a tomar un trago

por amor del tiempo atrás.

..........

PRÓSPERO AÑO NUEVO

2024...

domingo, 24 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 24

 Week of Creativity

24th of December - Peace on Earth


FIAT PAX
Winter Season's Greetings to all of you,
and may "Peace on Earth" not be seasonal,
but an evergreen wish for the whole year!


sábado, 23 de diciembre de 2023

ASÍ HABLÓ EL ESPEJO - FALOU O ESPELHO

 ASÍ HABLÓ EL ESPEJO - FALÒ O ESPELHO

ASÎ HABLÓ EL ESPEJO - SOFÎA DE MELLO ANDRESEN

Yo estaba en un palacio y frente a mí solo había espacio, espacio, nada más que espacio, El suelo era de mármol liso y brillante, Y yo estaba en el fondo de una galería silenciosa y solitaria. Contemplaba el paso de las horas a lo largo del día. Vi a los reyes y a las reinas, pálides en el día de su coronación, con sus coronas centelleantes y pesadas. Vi a los ministros, a los consejeros y a la gente importante con sus narices largas, sus caras de circunstancia y su aire servil. Y vi a las novias vestidas de blanco que durante las noches de baile huían por un momento a la galería solitaria. Se deslizaban rápidas y leves, negando siempre la flor que les pedían, Y vi pasar a las multitudes de las revoluciones, rompiéndolo todo, buscando justicia. Vi, vi, vi, yo soy un espejo; me he pasado toda la vida viendo. Todas las imágenes entraron dentro de mí. Vi, vi, vi, Y ahora, en esta sala, donde no hay ningún lugar en el que mis ojos de cristal puedan descansar.

Oriana, sácame de aquí y ponme frente a una pared blanca, desnuda y lisa.


Depois falou o espelho:
- Eu estava num palácio e em frente de mim havia espaço, espaço e espaço. E o chão era de mármore liso e brilhante. E eu estava no fundo de uma galeria silenciosa e solitária. E contemplava o mudar das horas do dia. Vi os reis e as rainhas pálidos no dia da coroação, com suas coroas cintilantes e pesadas. Vi os ministros, os conselheiros, e os homens importantes com seu nariz comprido, a sua cara de caso e o seu ar solicito. E vi as namoradas de vestido branco que nas noites de bailes fugiam um instante para a galeria solitária. Elas deslizavam rápidas e leves negando sempre a flor que lhes pediam. E vi as multidões das revoluções que passavam, desesperadamente, partindo tudo, à procura de justiça. Vi, vi, vi.
Eu sou um espelho; passei toda a minha vida a ver. As imagens entraram todas dentro de mim. Vi, vi, vi. E agora estou nesta sala onde não há um lugar onde os meus olhos de vidro descansem. Tira-me daqui e põe-me em frente de uma parede branca, nua e lisa.
 
Disse o espelho - peço-te que tires da minha frente aquela bailarina de Saxe. Estou farto de a ver o dia inteiro sempre com o pé no ar em posição de desequilíbrio. Os meus olhos de vidro não têm pálpebras. Só as noites são as minhas pálpebras. Mas durante o dia nunca posso fechar os olhos. E estou cansadíssimo de passar os dias a ver uma bailarina com o pé no ar.
A bailarina estava numa prateleira em frente do espelho. Pegou nela e pô-la no outro lado da sala, em cima da cômoda, de maneira a que o espelho não a visse.
- Obrigado - Disse o espelho.

Sou, como já sabes, um espelho antiqüíssimo. Há séculos que todas as meninas querem saber se haverá no mundo alguém mais bonito do que elas. Vê-te bem. És muito bonita, mas há uma coisa muito mais bonita do que tu.
Uma parede branca, nua e lisa.
Ainda bem – disse o espelho. Mais não imaginas a quantidade de meninas que pelos séculos fora se olharem nos meus olhos de vidro e disseram: “Acho-me linda”!
Ele passa o dia em frente de mim, a ver-se em mim e a dizer: “É um cabelo lindo”. E eu já não o posso olhar.


O espelho disse-me que havia uma parede branca que era ainda mais bonita do que eu.
- Os espelhos são uns sonhadores, estão sempre a imaginar o que não vêem. És muito mais bonita do que uma parede.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 23

 Week of Creativity

23rd of December - Let your Reads Take Wing


Put your heart into literature

as you read

and you will feel

the death of your beloved characters (Enjolras, Grantaire, and company; Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred Weasley...)

the loves of your beloved characters (Othello and Desdemona, Marius and Cosette, Enjolras and Grantaire, Ron and Hermione...)

Their first heroics (with guns, words, or patroni...)

Their hearts shall be yours to keep.

viernes, 22 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 22

 Week of Creativity

22nd of December - Hermes and Argus


How now, white cow?

I know you have the white cow

and you keep always a watchful eye on her...

Now ain't that dull, so say!

I have yarns and songs galore to fill your day!

Let me sit down and relax and tell you something...

(And once I have sung you to sleep,

your head shall roll

and the white cow shall be free!)

POÉSIE DE PAUL ÉLUARD

 POÉSIE DE PAUL ÉLUARD

.........

L'ardeur des yeux de ces enfants

dans le dédale du torrent

dans le labyrinthe des flammes

au creux de l'idéal sillon

ou l'épi dans la raison

.......

Les jeux de ces curieux enfants qui sont les nôtres

jeux simples qui leur font les yeux émerveillés

Le bonheur d'un enfant saurai-je le déduire

de sa poupée ou de sa balle ou du beau temps

.........

Le jour coule comme un œuf

Le vent fané s'effiloche

Comme un désert inexploré

l'enfant pâlit terriblement

........

L'enfant regarde la nuit de haut

Si l'enfant meurt, la nuit prendra sa place



..........

Unique guirlande tendue

d'un bout à l'autre de l'enfance

Petit pont de perfection



.........

Sur le ciel tout ébréché

les étoiles sont moisies

........

Nous deux nous tenant par la main

nous nous croyons partout chez nous

auprès des sages et des fous 

parmi les enfants et les grands




........

Nous ne perdons pas un brin d'herbe d'espoir

nous refusons d'être sans rêves tout l'hiver

.......

jueves, 21 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 21

 Week of Creativity

21st of December - The Dreams of Reason Spawn Monsters


Have you ever put your reason to sleep,

letting strong drink or other substances

usurp her rightful throne?

If that is so, think of all the monsters

and all the outrageous visions

that unfold before your eyes,

until banished reason claims 

her rightful throne!

The BEST of life is but intoxication,

it lets us come closer to chaos

and makes us dance with the Universe!

miércoles, 20 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 20

 Week of Creativity

20th of December - Oh Frabjous Day!


Oh Frabjous Day, calloo, callay!
The riders ride a caucus race
on unicorns and hippogriffs (Buckbeak!)
and some weird beast with a seal's face!
Two gay men make out in a mussel,
distilling beads of seed,
and an owl with catlike yellow eyes
is wide awake by day indeed!
Berries are the size of houses,
making people smaller than "mouses,"
and if you wish
for a little fish,
you've got your wish,
we've got oodles of fresh fish!


martes, 19 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 19

 Week of Creativity

19th of December - Praise of Literature

https://www.loc.gov/resource/highsm.02251/?st=image&r=0.257,0.202,0.25,0.371,0



I. GREECE

Sing, oh Muse,

of the fury of Achilles son of Peleus,

of the Trojan Horse,

of how Odysseus outfoxed both

Polyphemus and Circe,

of the torrid love of Sappho,

of Cloudcuckoo Land and of the croaking Frogs

on the River Styx.


II. ITALY

Sing, oh Muse,

of Petrarca's passionate love for Laura,

of descents to the infernal depths,

of ascents up Purgatory and beyond...

Of Renzo and Lucia, the lovers separated,

and of Sicilian nobility...

Of young heroes like the Little Lombard Lookout

or Marco crossing the Pampas.


III. ENGLAND

Oh for a Muse of Fire

to sing of sallow princes and star-crossed lovers,

of jealous husbands and merry wives,

of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future,

of virtuous orphans who get what they deserve,

of madwomen in attics and wardrobes to Narnia,

and nargles in the mistletoe.

lunes, 18 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 18

 Week of Creativity

18th of December - Light, Love, Life



I come with three blessings:

Light, Love, Life.

With three blessings I come:

Love, Life, Light.

With three blessings, Yours Truly:

Life, Light, Love.


domingo, 17 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR

 Week of Power

17th of December - Midshipman's Ambition


Dearest Lady Winifred Sudbury:
your son, Midshipman Arthur Sudbury
on board HMS Venus,
was sadly killed in action
 by the German torpedo that sank that craft.
He died, though young and fresh,
for Crown and Country...

Everytime Mum took me to the Museum
I always stared aghast at Lord Nelson,
whose feats I also eagerly read.
Now I see I am meant to share his fate,
dying on deck...
Even though his death came from above,
and mine from below...
Yet I am only a paltry Midshipman:
I shall never be a war hero...


sábado, 16 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 16

 Week of Power

16th of December - Corrupt Legislation


Behold the throne of Corruption

(a bane that will never disappear),

among ruins and autumn leaves!

See how the poor Cosettes and Cinderellas

barely have any fibre on their spindles,

while the posh merchants and officials

butter the Government up with their fortunes!

There is nothing like such an unfair reign,

deliver us from Corrupt Legislation!

viernes, 15 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 15

 Week of Power

15th of December - Christina of Sweden



Crowned at the tender age of six

on too hard a throne

with too heavy a crown

for your little golden head full of restlessness,

passionate

about reading

about learning

about riding astride your horse

about swimming without any clothes on

about enjoying

your freedom,

heir apparent in spite of yourself...

you don't want to be chained to the throne,

you cast off your crown, and spread your wings,

and take flight without looking back!


jueves, 14 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 14

 Week of Power

14th of December - Thor


Always in battle against the powers of darkness:
trolls, jötnar, werewolves, iron witches...
My billy goats, Gnasher and Grinder,
carry my sleigh or chariot at breakneck speed.
And my hammer Mjölnir, gift of Loki,
after striking the enemy dead,
always returns to my right hand
like a boomerang.
Yet there is a worthy opponent for me:
the Midgard Serpent, 
that encompasses Earth's all oceans.
I have already fought the Serpent twice:
first I tried to lift it as a tabby cat,
then it got my fish hook in its throat.
The third time will be at Ragnarök,
the end of times.
Then my Mjölnir will sure crack its skull.
But not without the Serpent's fangs piercing my chest,
filling my bloodstream with lethal venom.
I guess, since both of us die,
you can call it a draw.
I am not afraid of my destiny.
My wife Siv has had three lovely, strong children:
Modi, Trude, and Magni,
all three the heirs to the hammer Mjölnir
and to the war on darkness on the new Earth.



miércoles, 13 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 13

 Week of Power

Day 13 - the Weird Sisters

We are the Fates - the Norns - the Zoryas

past - present - future

maiden - mother - crone

spinner - weaver - cutter

we raise kings - we guide kings - we dethrone kings

The wheel of Fortune whirs and turns,

the loom of Fate clackety-clacks,

the scissors of Death cut all threads.

Hail my lord, the once and future King! 

(Though the higher he rises, the louder his fall;

he is just a human, with feet of clay!)

martes, 12 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 12

 Week of Power

12th of December - The Spinners (Arachne and Athena)


Everytime I see you use your webs

to catch small prey insects,

I think you as a human girl had aimed for bigger prey,

the grandest of them all.

You had the gall... No, the GUTS

to portray my Lord Father and all other Olympians

warts and all on your tapestry,

with their affairs and the ensuing scandals.

Why did I say I won? To uphold decency?

No, it was green-eyed envy because

a goddess hadn't dared to take those potshots

and a human had been bold, brave, by far, to do it.

I was wrong, Arachne.

If you can still hear me in that tiny eight-legged form...

I say I retract my victory. You win.

lunes, 11 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 11

 Week of Power

11th of December - The Haywain (Haywagon)

All flesh is hay

and every human, from popes to royals to peasants

wants some of that sweet hay,

they fight wars and do coups d'état and murder

for that sweet, sweet hay...

Only young lovers seem inmune

to the spell of that sweet, sweet, sweet hay;

how wonderful is the power of love!

domingo, 10 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 10

 Week of Love

10th of December - Hermaphroditus and Salmacis


SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS
I was always the odd one out
I only had a shawl for a clue
alone among all of my kindred
in the end, the yearning was too strong
liquid mirror, who's the fairest one of all?
I've walked through ice and fire, through storm and flood
but I still haven't found what I seek
but I still haven't sought what to find
a sprig of lavender would be nice in my hair
my head swims, my throat's seared, flames dance before my eyes
this clump of lavender bushes will be fine, won't it?
the sound of rushing freshwater smites upon my ears
braiding, with lithe and gentle fingers, these scented stalks
I bend the knees, cup both my hands, and quaff liquid crystal
the corsage fits my right wrist perfectly
it tastes like this refreshing spearmint, that grows all around
gulp, gulp, there must be a thirsty stranger at the spring
coursing down my throat, this draught quenches the inner flame
a stripling or a maiden? A young person, seen from behind...
splashing on my face, the perspiration is washed off
I tie my hair back in a golden sun of a chignon
now a rest in the shade until the afternoon falls
those sharp features... that dark shade on his lip... it's a he!!
the chirp of cicadas lulls me off to sleep
Now I stand right before you; you're in for a surprise!
GASP!!
Fair stranger, I have been waiting for you!!
She's popped up like a traitor, without forewarning!!
If not as a sweetheart, as a sister or a friend...
Flustered, I turn my head to the left as she clasps me!
At least I've kissed his right cheekbone! Shy pretty boy...
L-leave me al-lone, or I will l-l-leave this pl-lace!
He turns to the pond, not seeing me saunter behind him...
At last alone... ready to have a swim in peace...
this mastic bush provides the perfect hiding place to watch
my right foot, refreshed, shivers pleasantly; the left one plunges in
now he casts off his cloak... such dazzling white shoulder blades!
undressed, I wade until I stand up to the waist
his shapely legs cleave the water like a frog's
so free and so fresh I have never felt on land
this blaze sears me like a raisin in the sun
so fresh and so free I have never felt on land
only he can quench my insides, that no longer can hold this flame...
even the remembrance of my quest has dissolved
I WIN!!
she clasps me around the waist, plunging me underwater
he kicks, and writhes; I hold him even tighter
my lips are sealed to keep precious air within me
his shut lips constantly turn away from mine
at last all my limbs falter, my lips part, my lungs are flooded...
precious diamonds of air rise to the surface as he grows pale...
is this the way things should end?
is this the way things should end?
I make a wish to live through this icy, liquid darkness
I make a wish to give my own life to save his own
and the wish comes true, indeed
and the wish comes true, of course
both male and female, both dead and alive, and neither
both female and male, both alive and dead, and neither
and all who touch this spring may share our fate
and all who touch this spring will share our fate




sábado, 9 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 9

 Week of Love

9th of December - Persephone



I am caught between two loves: I am
my mother's daughter, but also my husband's wife.
I spend half the year with each of them.
I love them both equally,
half a year under the Sun,
half a year in the Underworld.
After all, Mum, when I disappeared
you were worried so sick
that the whole Earth grew cold and barren.
And you, my lord,
though you spirited me away by force
into your dark realm,
I gradually grew to love you as a wife and Queen.
I am forever caught between two worlds:
my mother's daughter, but also my husband's wife.
This is me. Persephone.


viernes, 8 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 8

 Week of Love  

8th of December - Othello and Desdemona


"No way but this;

killing myself, to die upon a kiss."

You were the only one who loved me for me;

seeing the man instead of the war hero or the freak.

And I loved you with all my heart back,

so much that I feared losing you,

like I lost so many friends on the battlefield.

When it seemed I had lost you, I thought of your death

as a way of sparing others the heartbreak I felt.

It was like the whole cosmos fell apart,

and only getting rid of you would set things right.

I have just realised you were innocent,

always pure and true,

and I would live in infamy, fallen from grace,

for having taken away such a pristine life.

No way but this;

killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

jueves, 7 de diciembre de 2023

THE GORGON SISTERS

 Here is a little filk we had thought of för a while. LOVE this filk


[Poseidon]

There's nothing rich folks love more
Than going downtown and slummin' it with the poor
They pull up in their carriages and gawk
At the common philosophers

Just to watch them talk
Take Ceto and Phorcis: those sea Monsters are loaded
Uh-oh, but little do they know 

that their daughters, Stheno, Euryale, Medusa

sneak up to the acropolis just to watch 'em guys at

WORK WORK WORK

Euryale...

WORK WORK WORK

Medu-u-sa

WORK WORK WORK

And Stheno!

The Gorgon sisters!

WORK WORK WORK


Euryale...


WORK WORK WORK


Medu-u-sa


WORK WORK WORK


And Stheno!


The Gorgon sisters!



ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 7

 Week of Love

7th of December - Lisant un conte



Oh please Mum, tell me a story,
while we snuggle up and cuddle,
swaddle the tale in snuggles and cuddles,
of Beauty and the Beast, Lumière and Cogsworth,
or the star-crossed romance of Romeo and Juliet,
or the battles of El Cid, or the Fairy Queen
who fell for a donkey-headed actor.
I can never get enough of all your stories,
told with oodles of love, and cuddles here and there...
And you will be proud of me, Mum,
when I come of age and, as an adult,
I have a passion for literature.
I have lovingly watered the seeds
of all stories you planted in me,
as a token of our mutual LOVE.


miércoles, 6 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 6

 Week of Love

6th of December - Cupid and Psyche



Once upon a time,

the god of love himself fell in love

with his mother's mortal rival.

Aphrodite would only take Psyche for an in-law

and give her and Cupid her blessing

if the human girl completed a series of labours

(like a female Theseus or Hercules).

Psyche took the wool from fire-breathing rams,

the wool they had left on the thorns.

Zeus' Eagle helped her fill her pitcher

from a waterfall guarded by dragons.

But the last task was the most daunting:

"Descend to the realm of the dead

and bring me a pot of Persephone's beauty cream," 

said Aphrodite, determined.

Psyche geared herself up for the Underworld:

she brought money for Charon to cross the Styx,

a half dozen doggy biscuits for Cerberus

(three for the journey there, three for the return),

and ate nothing that Hades and Persephone gave her

(otherwise she would have stayed in their dark realm).

On the journey home, however,

she was intrigued, as curious as Pandora,

and opened the tiny pot of beauty cream.

Psyche plunged instantly into deep slumber:

the beauty of Persephone is

the beauty of Death itself.

Cupid found out and woke her up

with a true love's kiss,

just like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.

And Aphrodite was so moved by their love

that she gave the young couple her blessing.

They got married with great pomp on Olympus,

and she got butterfly wings, like he has feathered wings,

so they now can fly together through the skies.

Cupid and Psyche, the Flesh and the Soul,

who needed one another, were united

to live happily ever after.

martes, 5 de diciembre de 2023

A FREDRIKSHALD LULLABY - BILINGUAL

 A FREDRIKSHALD LULLABY

By Rudyard Kipling - adaptation by Sandra Dermark


How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a little child at play?
     What makes you want to wander there with all the world between?
   Oh, Mother, call your little Charles or else he’ll run away.
     (No one thinks of winter when the grass is green!)


   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a fight in Latvia?
     I haven’t time to answer now—the men are falling fast.
   The guns begin to thunder, and the drums begin to beat
     (If you take the first step you will take the last!)

   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from a peace in Saxony? 
     I cannot see—I cannot tell—the crowns they dazzle so.
   The lords sit down to dinner, and the ladies stand up to dance.
     (After open weather you may look for snow!)


   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from confronting a great Czar?
     A longish way—a longish way—with ten year more to run.
   It’s east across the water underneath a setting star.
     (What you cannot finish you must leave undone!)Ñ



   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from dishonouring defeat?
     An ill way—a chill way—the ice begins to crack.
   But not so far for gentlemen who never took advice.
     (When you can’t go forward you must e’en come back!)


   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, from the pier down in Stralsund?
     A near way—a clear way—the ship will take you soon.
   A pleasant place for gentlemen with little left to do.
     (Morning never tries you till the afternoon!)


   How far is FREDRIKSHALD, dear lad, to the Gate of Heaven’s Grace?
     That no one knows—that no one knows—and no one ever will.
   But fold your hands across your heart and cover up your face,
     And after all your traipsings, dear child, lie still!
...............................

EN VAGGVISA OM FREDRIKSHALD
Sandra Dermark, den 6 februari MMXVIII
in signo Aquarii
Dedicerad till Uttam Paudel och till Mona Utsten.

Vae victis!

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till ett barn som leker krig?
Vad får dig att vilja vandra dit, hela världen vid och skön?
Åh, mor, ropa på din lille Karl, ty ni råkas ej igen…
(Vem tänker på vintern när allt gräs är grönt?)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en strid vid Östersjön?
Manskap stupar här och var… för ett svar har jag ej tid!
Kanonerna hörs dundra i takt med pukor och gevär…
(Efter första steget är det slut på frid!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till ett sachsiskt fredsfördrag?
Kan ej se… kan ej förtälja… det strålar överallt!
Till bords sätter sig ädlingar, hovdamer svajar i dans…
(Efter vackert väder lär det bli så kallt!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en drabbning mot en tsar?
En lång, lång väg, en lång lång väg, ett par tre fyr år till.
Det är över stäppen, österut, dit där skrider en ny sol…
(Fullborda det du har gjort, oavsett om du vill!
)
Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till en vedervärdig flykt?
En björneväg… en törneväg… en väg över den strida ström…
Goda råd är dyra: äran släcker ingen törst…
(Ingen återvändo: ivrigt kalken töm!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till kajen i Stralsund?
En snar väg… en klar väg… du kommer strax: är du säll?
En fredlig plats där fältherrar blir overksamma en stund…
(Dagen prövar ej oss tills den har blivit kväll!)

Säg, hur långt är det från Fredrikshald till himmelrikets port?
Ingen visste, ingen vet, och ingen lär veta få…
Lägg händerna på hjärtat, fint uppvikta, och somna in…
(Efter alla hyss, mitt barn, ligg still och sov!) 

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 5

 Week of Love

5th of December - Pietà vaticana


Did he really die for LOVE,

after so much excruciating pain?

He was mourned and hearts broke,

stabbed by sorrow, for his sake.

He may have died for our love 

but he may have died in vain:

for we keep on doing wrong.




lunes, 4 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 4

 Week of Love

4th of December - Birth of Aphrodite 





About them (Uranus' severed private parts) a white (sea-)foam grew from the immortal flesh, and in it a girl formed. First she approached holy Kythera; then from there she came to sea-girt Cyprus. And out stepped this modest and beautiful goddess, and grass began to grow all round beneath her slender feet. Gods and mortals call her Aphrodite, because she was formed in foam (aphros), and Kytherea, because she approached Kythera, and Cyprus-born, because she was born in wave-washed Cyprus.

domingo, 3 de diciembre de 2023

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 3

 

Week of Death

3rd of December - Isabella 


Ever since Mamma and Papà died

in mysterious circumstances (poisoning?)

when I was only five,

I have always been intimate with Death.

My three older brothers,

Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso,

are my guardians and run the family business 

(you would not even guess what it is,

but it employs half the population here in Messina town).

My beloved Lorenzo, that adorable valet,

so charming and so cute,

did not return from his errand in Palermo.

I thought he had left me for another girl

when his ghost, with his severed head under his arm,

haunted me a fortnight ago.

He told me hitmen sent by my three brothers

(apparently, a servant was not good enough a suitor)

beheaded and buried him in the pinewoods.

So off I stole there in secret with a knapsack,

unearthed and took his severed head,

and now it fertilises a basil plant,

buried in the plant pot.

It is the same basil that our cooks put in our pasta,

and sometimes I water it with my tears

while thinking about how my darling Renzo was betrayed.

Oh, if only my brothers Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso

knew, while scarfing down pasta al pesto at the table,

what leaves the pesto is made of!