See you later Irving Penn

Irving Penn
Photography by Irving Penn (1917-2009)

From Roberto Juarroz poetry (sorry, i did the traduction myself, is someone have one better, not strange, please pass me to paste here)

While you are doing whatever thing,
someone is dying,

While you shine your shoes,
while you hate,
while you write a clever letter
to your unique love or not so unique.

And although you can do nothing,
someone would be dying,
trying in vain to join the corners,
trying in vain not to see direct to the wall.

And although you would be dying,
someone more would be dying,
in spite of your legitimate desire
to die one minute with exclusivity.

For that, if someone ask about the world,
reply simple: someone is dying.

De un poema de Roberto Juarroz

Mientras haces cualquier cosa,
alguien está muriendo.

Mientras te lustras los zapatos,
mientras odias,
mientras escribes una carta prolija
a tu amor único o no único.

Y aunque pudieras llegar a no hacer nada,
alguien estaría muriendo,
tratando en vano de juntar todos los rincones,
tratando en vano de no mirar fijo a la pared

Y aunque te estuvieras muriendo,
alguien más estría muriendo,
a pesar de tu legítimo deseo
de morir un minuto con exclusividad.

Por eso, si te preguntan por el mundo,
responde simplemente: alguien está muriendo.

~ by hernanzenteno on October 8, 2009.

3 Responses to “See you later Irving Penn”

  1. Musée des Beaux Arts (1938)
    by W. H. Auden

    About suffering they were never wrong,
    The Old Masters: how well they understood
    Its human position; how it takes place
    While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
    How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
    For the miraculous birth, there always must be
    Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
    On a pond at the edge of the wood:
    They never forgot
    That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
    Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
    Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
    Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

    In Brueghel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
    Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may
    Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
    But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
    As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
    Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
    Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
    Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.


  2. Aw, this was a very nice post. Spending some time and actual effort to create a
    very good article… but what can I say… I procrastinate a
    whole lot and don’t manage to get anything done.


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