Balck dove, black dove. wherever are you?

I found this absolutely beautiful song, it's called "Paloma negra" "Black Dove" by Tomas Mendez. The singer is Chavela Vargas (pictured above). You can see a translation into english language below this lines.

I'm tired of sweeping and yet there's no sign of the sun,
I no longer know whether to curse you or pray for you,
I'm afraid to look for you and afraid to find you,
where my friends all tell me that you have gone.

At times I feel like reliquishing the fight,
and ripping out the nails that cause my pain,
but my eyes are dying without looking into yours,
and my affection returns to wait for you at dawn.

And you decided on your own to find a party,
Black dove, black dove, wherever are you?
stop playing with my honour, party girl,
your caresses must be mine, and no one else's.

And though I love you madly, don't come back to me,
Black dove, you're the bars on this cage of suffering,
I want to be free and live my life with whom I choose,
ord, give me strength for I'm diying to go find her.

And you decided on your own to find a party.

Comments

Anonymous said…

Chavela VArgas era Costarricence pero siempre la gente ha pensado ella es Mexicana. De todas maneras esa cancion es muy muy buena.

12:29 PM

Volan's last will.

This is a picture of the envelope I received. On September the 29th I received a letter sent from London Metropolitan Police’s forensic department. The envelope contains Volan’s death report. I am still recovering from such a terrible moment. As Volan’s closest (and perhaps sole) friend I am in the obligation of publishing these lines on his own blog, as it was his last will. In strange circumstances my dearest friend Volan passed away in the dawn of the 23rd of September in Homerton Hospital in London. His body was carted off from the churchyard of Saint Paul’s Cathedral after a mad night out with Siobhan (Sweeny), -an Irish-Scottish blues singer whose Volan had just met few hours before in the surrounding areas of Anexo Bar, close to Farringdon Station. At the moment that the ambulance arrived at the place Volan showed a critical state and almost without vital signals dying a while after indoors, in the above mentioned hospital. The death certificated shows a very cryptic language ...

Vomiting in Old Kent Road.

Darko's last post is dated back to 2008... have all this years been a dream, a nightmare, am I back to life, back to death?... Shioban! Shioban... where are you? I died and got back to life... or vice versa. Shioban didn't I see you in the Middle Kingdom? Didn't I? Where have you gone Shioban? Irish Muse? Back to death from life... and a sketch she made in 2006, back the "deadly ol' smoke" Back form the toxic earthly smoke, life deterrent, as I walk covered in tar and sweet pop music, baijiu. Shioban!... you are young, I am gray.... Shioban where have you taken my bones? am I ashes, tar or smog? I still have got that ugly punch you directed at me nose, that night at Kingsland road, I landed, smacked my head to the ground only to wake up at Lewisham... or near, Shioban, you crazy Irish death.... was it Old Kent and Rotherhithe where we vomited solitudes that night? Shioban.

norman mclaren

Norman McLaren was one of the most significant abstract filmmakers of the British inter-war period. Born in 1914 in Stirling, Scotland, he entered the Glasgow School of Fine Arts in 1932, where he became interested in film and joined the School's Kine Society. His earliest extant film, Seven Till Five (1933), a "day in the life of an art school", was clearly influenced by Eisenstein and displays a strongly formalist attitude. (more)

Nevermind the bollocks!

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