La revolution des crabes

Si pobre te quieres hacer rico, debes tomar en cuenta que ni lo primero ni lo segundo seras, sino, nada. Seras odiado por los primeros, ya que huyes de tu condición original, los segundos te tomaran por imitador y hasta que no tengas mas de cinco generaciones tras de ti no querrán saber nada de tu apellido.

Pero no te preocupes, no tienes porque ser rico para ser feliz. Tu felicidad serán las tradiciones,la convivencia con tus iguales y la mediocre idea de que siempre serás pobre. Pero, incluso en la pobreza hay quienes tienen menos que otros, así que no te deprimas tanto.

Podrás superarte mientras no termines con los principios básicos que determinan tu estatus económico-social, es decir, mientras te mantengas pobre.

Para que puedan hacer su propia analogía vean lo siguiente:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdLehwjV4pc
Es el video más sabio que haya visto en casi un año.

Corto-

No soy nada, ni nadie, ni esto, ni aquello. "Le non dit, par manque de lucidité"-Leo Ferré, estoy repartida entre millones, pero ellos no saben que soy yo quien tienen dentro. Y después descubro que quizá si soy algo diferente, alguien, una persona.

Simpson

Y por pensar demaciado Lisa:
Dejó de comer carne,
verduras,
frutas,
rocas,
tierra,
aire.

Plegaria a Thor-Queja para Odin

Culpo a las noches sin recuerdos,

aquellas de sueños y misterios,

tomo a la luna por malvada

y a Odin por descuidado.

Si no soy por el martillo de aquél salvada,

no saldré más a volar de noche,

ni beberé el agua que éste me ha dado.

Porque cada día soy menos yo

y nada hay que capture

ni de suerte, las profundas quejas

que tú dios poeta me haz negado.

Y aun así, de mis lágrimas,

culpable no hallo,

pues así, en el sueño recorre

mi mente angustiada los caminos de Asgard,

y así, temprano,

de nuevo todo he olvidado.

Hartino to feggaraki

Θα φέρει η θάλασσα πουλιά
κι άστρα χρυσά τ' αγέρι
να σου χαϊδεύουν τα μαλλιά
να σου φιλούν το χέρι
Χάρτινο το φεγγαράκι
ψεύτικη ακρογιαλιά
αν με πίστευες λιγάκι
θα 'σαν όλα αληθινά
Δίχως τη δική σου αγάπη
γρήγορα περνά ο καιρός
Δίχως τη δική σου αγάπη
είναι ο κόσμος πιο μικρός
Χάρτινο το φεγγαράκι
ψεύτικη ακρογιαλιά
αν με πίστευες λιγάκι
θα 'σαν όλα αληθινά

No crean que la buena y snob de la Alicia entiende cabalmente eso que en tan comicas letras ha puesto, pero considera pertinente publicarlo antes de entenderlo....

About not trusting one-self

In the mist of this not-yet-broken-heart lay some shallow golden memories. I threw away me-self to the wolfs; I prayed out loud for them to keep my heart, a weightless-cloudy-pounding-thing untouched. And in an almost kind way they listened and did as I begged.

Some sort of brown feathers covered like silk this fragile-cloudy-quiet-heart, so forgotten and lonely. Sharing gost thoughts with the snow, pitiful feelings with thunder and getting burried by its own happy memories.

And soon, trees were chopped, wolfs were hunted just to build a so called town. Still unbroken, this quiet-no-longer-pounding-thing felt live upon itself and therefore the need for reaching it. Happyness wouldn´t burry me any longer, I struggled to reach the surface, to leave this dark and muddy ground.

But then I remembered my fragile-and-still-complete-thing, the hungry wolves, my weightless condition...I remembered me-self and went back to my place.

De una noche llena de colores

Feelings that ran like a river on every word she said,
drunk and numb, she couldn´t stop the talking,
Michael listened, still as the air
high as a feather.

There was no need for her to talk,
nor for him to pay attention,
they just felt like doing it,
to get unecesseraly exposed to the other.

And between the river and the air
there was an unknown fish
that couldn t help getting bigger every time.
It wasn´t sweaming nor flying,
it was just growing and waiting.

It waited the time words would stop flowing,
it hopped the air would come alive,
it expected not to grow fatter.

Between Michael and Maruca
there was a big fish,
that was now drunk, numb and high.

Finally the endless flow or nonsense took a pause.
Michael, who had been motionless,
took the fish and licked it,
then he placed it upon their heads.

His mouth was painted with blue and green lines,
his tongue was sprinkled with moon pouder,
and his skin became smoother.

He aproached the girl,
took her face in is hands.
She saw the shining fish observing them,
and kissed him.

Some blue came down thru her stomach,
a little bit of green stayed in her eyes,
there was purple in her head
and some grey in her tongue.

Submerged in a sea of colours
they didn´t notice when it was gone.
Feeling sleepy and motionless,
Maruca took him to bed,
so colorfull, still happy.