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"Me gusta pensar en el arte y en el amor. Aunque yo no sé por qué separé ahora esas dos cosas"
Hoy te vi
Cuando en las noches largas
una esperanza miente
cuando la angustia es fuerte
sufres, te mueres.
Cuando a la puerta triste
llama la tarde fría
quiere tu noche tibia
sufres, te mueres.
Y hoy te vi
mirando rosas hoy te vi
tú nunca dices qué hay en ti
y hoy te vi.
Cuando caminas lento
bajo la lluvia fría
cuando las nubes pisas
sufres, te mueres.
Cuando se acaba el sueño
que te humedece el día
cuando tu cuarto miras
sufres, te mueres.
Y hoy te vi
mirando rosas hoy te vi
tú nunca dices qué hay en ti
y hoy te vi.
Eduardo Mateo 19 de septiembre de 1940-mayo de 1990.
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Fabrizio Ledesma/ Gonzalo Ramirez. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
"I like to think about art and love. Although I don't know why I separated those two things now"
Today I saw you
When in the long nights
a hope lies
when the anguish is strong
you suffer, you die.
When at the sad door
the cold afternoon calls
wants your warm night
you suffer, you die.
And today i saw you
looking at roses today I saw you
you never say what's in you
and today I saw you.
When you walk slow
in the cold rain
when you step on the clouds
you suffer, you die.
When the dream is over
that moistens your day
when you look at your room
you suffer, you die.
And today i saw you
looking at roses today I saw you
you never say what's in you
and today I saw you.
Eduardo Mateo September 19, 1940-May 1990.
Fragmento de «La mesa de los pecados capitales» de El Bosco.
Porque amo y porque admiro yo devoro.
¿Los otros no acumulan libros, mapas,
sellos, muñecos, fotos sin decoro,
amuletos, santos de porcelana?
No soy mero glotón que por su inri
consume en alimentos toneladas
ni soy el sibarita inverosímil
buscando una delicia innominada.
Mi deseo es el mundo en mis entrañas,
ostras vivas crispadas al limón,
el verde deslizarse de las plantas,
los peces venenosos del Japón.
Trago la selva en cada fina hierba
y se me entrega dócil un antílope:
de noche en el regusto de una cena
me apodero del sol en la planicie.
Quiero que el centro de mi cuerpo sea
túnel del mundo y fluya en él la vida.
La obra de Dios se expulsa en polvareda
pero antes la ensalivo y me acaricia.
Desamparado y vil, tan breve el cuerpo,
no busco el alimento, busco paz,
por dentro estoy vacío y es obeso
el pecador, el goce y el manjar.
Alfredo Fressia (Montevideo,1948)
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Fabrizio Ledesma/ Gonzalo Ramirez. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
Fragment of "The table of capital sins" by Bosco.
Because I love and because I admire I devour.
Don't the others accumulate books, maps,
stamps, dolls, photos without decorum,
amulets, porcelain saints?
I am not a mere glutton that by his inri
consumes tons of food
nor am I the unlikely sybarite
looking for an unnamed delight.
My desire is the world in my gut,
live oysters crisped with lemon,
the green slipping off the plants,
the poisonous fish of Japan.
I swallow the jungle in every fine grass
and an antelope is given me docile:
at night in the aftertaste of a dinner
I seize the sun in the plain.
I want the center of my body to be
tunnel of the world and life flow in it.
God's work is thrown out in dust
but first I salute her and she caresses me.
Helpless and vile, the body so brief,
I'm not looking for food, I'm looking for peace
inside I'm empty and obese
the sinner, the enjoyment and the delicacy.
Alfredo Fressia (Montevideo, 1948)
"Ellos tenían la Biblia y nosotros teníamos la tierra. Y nos dijeron: "Cierren los ojos y recen". Y cuando abrimos los ojos, ellos tenían la tierra y nosotros teníamos la Biblia"
Eduardo Galeano
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Fabrizio Ledesma/ Gonzalo Ramirez. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
"They had the Bible and we had the land. And they told us: 'Close your eyes and pray.' And when we open our eyes, they had the land and we had the Bible."
Eduardo Galeano
UN PERRO HA MUERTO
Mi perro ha muerto.
Pablo Neruda
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Fabrizio Ledesma/ Gonzalo Ramirez. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
Defender la alegría como una trinchera
defenderla del escándalo y la rutina
de la miseria y los miserables
de las ausencias transitorias
y las definitivas…
Defender la alegría como un principio
defenderla del pasmo y las pesadillas
de los neutrales y de los neutrones
de las dulces infamias
y los graves diagnósticos…
Mario Benedetti.
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Blues variado. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
Defend joy like a trench
defend her from scandal and routine
of misery and the wretched
of temporary absences
and the final ones ...
Defend joy as a principle
defend her from astonishment and nightmares
of neutrals and neutrons
of the sweet infamies
and the serious diagnoses ...
Mario Benedetti.
¿Por qué persistes, incesante espejo?
de Jorge Luis Borges
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Jazz variado. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
Why do you persist, incessant mirror?
Why do you duplicate, mysterious brother,
the movement of my hand?
Why the sudden shadow reflection?
you are the other me that greek talks about
and lurk forever. In the smoothness
From uncertain water or glass that lasts
You look for me and it is useless to be blind.
The fact of not seeing you and knowing you
adds horror, magic thing that you dare
multiply the number of things
that we are and that encompass our luck.
When I'm dead, you'll copy another
And then to another, to another, to another, to another.
To mirror
by Jorge Luis Borges
Alambres de púa, esqueletos humanos
deambulan tratando de sobrevivir
a los castigos de los malditos guardias
Un capitán duro como el diablo
su alma no perdona a aquellos infelices
y las columnas de humo crecen más
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas húmedas
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas húmedas
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas húmedas
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas húmedas
Alambres de púa, esqueletos humanos
deambulan tratando de sobrevivir
a los castigos de los malditos guardias
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas humedas
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas húmedas
Locos! personas
que no saben dominar su sed de sangre
Locos! personas
que no saben dominar su sed de sangre
Riga, la muerte
deambula por tus barracas humedas...
Zero 1985
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Jazz variado. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
Barbed wires, human skeletons
they roam trying to survive
to the punishments of the damned guards
A captain tough as the devil
his soul does not forgive those unhappy
and the columns of smoke grow higher
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Barbed wires, human skeletons
they roam trying to survive
to the punishments of the damned guards
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks
Crazy! people
who do not know how to control their thirst for blood
Crazy! people
who do not know how to control their thirst for blood
Riga, death
wander through your wet barracks ...
Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida,
Nadine Stair
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma Edicion: Gonzalo Ramirez y Fabrizio Ledesma Cortina Musical: Almendra. Correo: [email protected]/ Instagram: @elpilotoproducciones2020/ Facebook: El Piloto / Twitter: ElPiloto4 / Tik Tok @elpiloto75 / Whatsapp +59896139572
If I could live my life again,
Next time I would try to make more mistakes.
Do not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I'd be dumber than I've been
in fact he would take very few things seriously.
It would be less hygienic.
I'd take more risks
I would make more trips
I would contemplate more sunsets,
I would climb more mountains, I would swim more rivers.
I'd go to more places I've never been
I would eat more ice cream and less beans,
you would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived sensible
and prolifically every minute of his life;
of course I had moments of joy.
But if I could go back I would try
to have only good times.
In case you don't know, that's what life is made of,
only of moments; Do not miss the present.
I was one of those who never
they went nowhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle,
an umbrella and a parachute;
If I could live again, I would travel lighter.
If I could live again
I would start going barefoot early
of spring
and he would remain barefoot until the end of the fall.
I would take more turns in a merry-go-round,
I would contemplate more sunrises,
and I would play with more children,
If I had life ahead of me again
But you see, I'm 85 years old ...
And I know that I'm dying.
¿Y si Dios fuera mujer?
pregunta Juan sin inmutarse,
vaya, vaya si Dios fuera mujer
es posible que agnósticos y ateos
no dijéramos no con la cabeza
y dijéramos sí con las entrañas.
Tal vez nos acercáramos a su divina desnudez
para besar sus pies no de bronce,
su pubis no de piedra,
sus pechos no de mármol,
sus labios no de yeso.
Si Dios fuera mujer la abrazaríamos
para arrancarla de su lontananza
y no habría que jurar
hasta que la muerte nos separe
ya que sería inmortal por antonomasia
y en vez de transmitirnos SIDA o pánico
nos contagiaría su inmortalidad.
Si Dios fuera mujer no se instalaría
lejana en el reino de los cielos,
sino que nos aguardaría en el zaguán del infierno,
con sus brazos no cerrados,
su rosa no de plástico
y su amor no de ángeles.
Ay Dios mío, Dios mío
si hasta siempre y desde siempre
fueras una mujer
qué lindo escándalo sería,
qué venturosa, espléndida, imposible,
prodigiosa blasfemia.
Mario Benedetti
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma
What if God were a woman?
Juan asks without flinching,
well, if God were a woman
it is possible that agnostics and atheists
let's not shake our heads
and say yes with the entrails.
Maybe we would get closer to her divine nakedness
to kiss her feet not of bronze,
her pubis not made of stone,
her breasts not made of marble,
her lips not made of plaster.
If God were a woman we would hug her
to tear her from her distance
and you should not swear
until death do us part
since it would be immortal par excellence
and instead of transmitting AIDS or panic
His immortality would infect us.
If God were a woman, he would not install himself
far away in the kingdom of heaven,
but would wait for us in the hallway of hell,
with his arms not closed,
its not plastic rose
and his love not of angels.
Oh my God, my God
yes forever and ever
were you a woman
what a nice scandal it would be,
how fortunate, splendid, impossible,
prodigious blasphemy.
Mario Benedetti
Desde el alma (vals) Mario Benedetti.
Arte de tapa: Fabrizio Ledesma
Brother body you are tired from the brain to the mercy of the palate to the valley of desire
when you tell me / soul help me I feel that I am moved to the point of overwhelm that the very air is vulnerable
brother body you have worked muscle and stomach and nervous kidneys and bronchi and diaphragm
when you tell me / soul help me I know that you are condemned / you are matter and matter tends to defibrate
brother body I know you I was your guest and host of your pain modest ramp of your greedy sex
when you ask me / soul help me I feel that the cold degrades me that the magic and sweetness are gone
brother body you are fleeting conjunctural ephemeral instantaneous after a gasp you will end up immobile
and I, who am normally life, will remain embraced by your bones, incapable of being a soul without your guts.
From the soul (waltz) Mario Benedetti.
From the publisher's feed