Algunos pensarán que me dedico a mantener mi blog a fuerza de puro birlar escritos de otros.
Puede ser. Puede que siempre haya sido así.
En estos días me dedico más a leer que a escribir, puede ser eso también.
(y si no lo entienden porque está en inglés… jódanse, qué sé yo…)
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.there’s a bluebird in my heart that
Charles Bukowski, en «Bluebird»
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
[originalmente publicado en historiasquenollevananingunlado.blogspot.com]
