jueves, 15 de mayo de 2008

El Blues del Funeral

Gran pieza, de W.H. Auden(así búsquenlo en wikipedia), para los que no lo hayan leído, muchachillos:

Funeral Blues

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 on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe 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 for ever: 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.

4 comentarios:

Anónimo dijo...

mmm. si en luga de el dijera ella
creo k hubiese entendido mas de lo k entendi kon esa letra, cancion o lo k sea (ouch la pedrada me pego duro)

Anónimo dijo...

T-T

Anónimo dijo...

i mean who fucking else coment u????
why did u break it??

Anónimo dijo...

creo que ya entiendo algo lo que sentiste tu al ver lo que yo subi

pero eso ya no importa ahora