ART AND PASSION: mayo 2015

POETIC ART

Looking at the river made of time and water

And remember that time is another river,

Knowing that we miss as the river

And that faces pass like water.

Feel that waking is another dream

Not to dream dreams and death

Who fears our flesh is that death

Every night, called sleep.

View on the day or the year a symbol

From the days of man and of his years,

Convert the outrage of the years

In music, a rumor and a symbol,

View in death sleep at sundown

A sad gold, such is poetry

That is immortal and poor. Poetry

Returns like the dawn and sunset.

Sometimes in the evenings a face

We look from the bottom of a mirror;

Art should be like that mirror

That reveals our own face.

They say that Ulysses, tired of wonders,

He wept with love at the sight of his Ithaca

Green and humble. Art is that Ithaca

Green eternity, not of wonders.

It is also like the river

What happens and remains and is the mirror of the same

Inconstant Heraclitus, which is the same

And another, like the river.

By: Jorge Luis Borges.

ART AND PASSION