Macondo
This armchair's your lair, arresting your eye is a hard trick.
Fledged by a man in the yellow poncho, the flight is ascending.
Year by year he is walking in rounds and I am attending
As the groom in the mirror is training the horse on a honda
And no one, no one, no one ever visits Macondo.
Carry on breathing hard like a hook-wounded fish on the rope.
All is falling apart as the house wheels down the slope.
Closed doors nourish mineral silence immune to the statutes.
Dance in calendar mirrors is breaking the joints of the statues.
What's your pain? Come and stay, hang your hat, live in peace and accord, or...
But no one, no one, no one ever visits Macondo.
Give the wheel its own way, leave the door nailed shut to the tout.
Said goodbye, they relive in our dreams. Storms are washing us out.
It's a Godspeed; to feuds of your breed no ending is clement.
What an evergreen dream that the orb and urb reach an agreement!
What the hedge do you want from us, strayers, or guests, or absconders?..
But no one, no one, no one ever comes to Macondo.
But no one, no one, no one ever comes to Macondo.
(Let no evil thing happen to you on your path to Macondo,
No way, no way, no way, no way, no way...)
Original: lihomir.livejournal.com/605261.html
Original/video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVeapzJeibU
Original/video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7JZAVosxl0
Свидетельство о публикации №116100601057
Perhaps, who knows, there still has been raining cats and dogs for the golden fishes of Aureliano Boendia or blind Ursula or Remedios the Beauty, flying with the bedsheet, or alchemical Melkiades... Such a dustcareless liferoom, so pure an ecstasy of joy, that entire life, "immune to the statues", with neverending relish of eternity's close shave existence..!
Self-love, why not? supposed your selfness's not the urb's Narcissus but the delight never to be broken asunder into the feeling of flesh anyhow different from the sense of spirit! Such a delight is no longer to be sought/
Macondo had turned into the spiritual fossil like your "mineral silence"/
And your strayers, or guests, or absconders who might look very much ready for the flight with the man in the poncho but then from now on you'll never be sure which of them are touts pretending Macondo habitants' descendants... Thankful to you, Lxe , you've rung the bell with the most cherished image in days of my yore!
With my best regards
Павел Лесной 3 08.02.2022 12:55 Заявить о нарушении