martes, 24 de febrero de 2015

Poetry: Kobayahsi Issa - Seven Haiku - Part 1 - Bio data - Links



Kobayahsi Issa's statue at Kashiwabara


With my father

With my father
I would watch dawn
over green fields.




That pretty girl

That pretty girl--
munching and rustling
the wrapped-up rice cake.




Pissing in the snow

Pissing in the snow
outside my door--
it makes a very straight hole.




A bath when you're born

His death poem:

A bath when you're born,
a bath when you die,
how stupid.




In this world

In this world
we walk on the roof of hell,
gazing at flowers.




Even on the smallest islands

Even on the smallest islands,
they are tilling the fields,
skylarks singing.




Don't worry, spiders

Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually. 


Kobayashi Issa - Haiku written by Issa each in his own calligraphy

 

Kobayashi Issa (小林 一茶?, June 15, 1763 – January 5, 1828),[1] was a Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest of the Jōdo Shinshū sect known for his haiku poems and journals. He is better known as simply Issa (一茶?), a pen name meaning Cup-of-tea[2] (lit. "one [cup of] tea"). He is regarded as one of the four haiku masters in Japan, along with Bashō, Buson and Shiki - "the Great Four, Basho, Buson, Issa, Shiki".[3]

Reflecting the popularity and interest in Issa as man and poet, Japanese books on Issa outnumber those on Buson, and almost equal in number those on Bashō.[4]


Life

Issa was born and registered as Kobayashi Nobuyuki[2] (小林 信之), with a childhood name of Kobayashi Yatarō (小林 弥太郎), the first son of a farmer family of Kashiwabara, now part of Shinano-machi, Shinano Province (present-day Nagano Prefecture). Issa endured the loss of his mother, who died when he was three.[5] Her death was the first of numerous difficulties young Issa suffered. He was cared for by his grandmother, who doted on him, but his life changed again when his father remarried five years later. Issa's half-brother was born two years later, and when his grandmother died when he was 14, Issa felt estranged in his own house, a lonely, moody child who preferred to wander the fields. His attitude did not please his stepmother, who, according to Lewis Mackenzie, was a "tough-fibred 'managing' woman of hard-working peasant stock."[6] He was sent to Edo (present-day Tokyo) by his father one year later to eke out a living. Nothing of the next ten years of his life is known for certain. His name was associated with Kobayashi Chikua (小林 竹阿) of the Nirokuan (二六庵) haiku school, but their relationship is not clear. During the following years, he wandered through Japan and fought over his inheritance with his stepmother (his father died in 1801). He wrote a diary, now called Last Days of Issa's Father. After years of legal wrangles, Issa managed to secure rights to half of the property his father left. He returned to his native village at the age of 49[7] and soon took a wife, Kiku. After a brief period of bliss, tragedy returned. The couple's first-born child died shortly after his birth. A daughter died less than two-and-a-half years later, inspiring Issa to write this haiku (translated by Lewis Mackenzie):

    露の世は露の世ながらさりながら

    Tsuyu no yo wa tsuyu no yo nagara sari nagara

    This dewdrop world --
    Is a dewdrop world,
    And yet, and yet . . .

Issa married twice more late in his life, and through it all he produced a huge body of work.

A third child died in 1820 and then Kiku fell ill and also died in 1823. "Ikinokori ikinokoritaru samusa kana [Outliving them,/Outliving them all,-/Ah, the cold!] This was written when Issa's wife died, he being 61."[8]

As a big fire swept the post station of Kashiwabara on July 24, 1827, according to the Western Calendar, Issa lost his house and had to live in his storehouse, which is still kept in the town. '"The fleas have fled from the burning house, and have taken refuge with me here", says Issa. Of this same fire, he wrote also: Hotarabu mo amaseba iya haya kore wa haya If you leave so much/As a firefly's glimmer, -/Good Lord! Good Heavens!'.[9]

He died on November 19, 1827, in his native village. According to the old Japanese calendar, he died on the 19th day of Eleventh Month, Tenth Year of the Bunsei era. Since the Tenth Year of Bunsei roughly corresponds with 1827, many sources list this as his year of death.


Writings and drawings

Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku, which have won him readers up to the present day. Though his works were popular, he suffered great monetary instability. Despite a multitude of personal trials, his poetry reflects a childlike simplicity, making liberal use of local dialects and conversational phrases, and 'including many verses on plants and the lower creatures. Issa wrote 54 haiku on the snail, 15 on the toad, nearly 200 on frogs, about 230 on the firefly, more than 150 on the mosquito, 90 on flies, over 100 on fleas and nearly 90 on the cicada, making a total of about one thousand verses on such creatures'.[10] By contrast, Bashō's verses are comparatively few in number, about two thousand in all[11]).

Issa, 'with his intense personality and vital language [and] shockingly impassioned verse...is usually considered a most conspicuous heretic to the orthodox Basho tradition'.[12] Nevertheless, 'in that poetry and life were one in him...[&] poetry was a diary of his heart', it is at least arguable that 'Issa could more truly be said to be Basho's heir than most of the haikai poets of the nineteenth century'.[13]

Issa's works also include haibun (passages of prose with integrated haiku) such as Oraga Haru (おらが春 "My Spring") and Shichiban Nikki (七番日記 "Number Seven Journal"), and he collaborated on more than 250 renku (collaborative linked verse).[14]

Issa was also known for his drawings, generally accompanying haiku: "the Buddhism of the haiku contrasts with the Zen of the sketch".[15] His approach has been described as "similar to that of Sengai....Issa's sketches are valued for the extremity of their abbreviation, in keeping with the idea of haiku as a simplification of certain types of experience."[16]

One of Issa's haiku, as translated by R.H. Blyth, appears in J. D. Salinger's 1961 novel, Franny and Zooey:

    O snail
    Climb Mount Fuji,
    But slowly, slowly!

The same poem, in Russian translation, served as an epigraph for a novel Snail on the Slope by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (published 1966–68), also providing the novel's title.

Another, translated by D.T. Suzuki, was written during a period of Issa's life when he was penniless and deep in debt. It reads:

    ともかくもあなたまかせの年の暮
    tomokaku mo anata makase no toshi no kure

    Trusting the Buddha (Amida), good and bad,
    I bid farewell
    To the departing year.

Another, translated by Peter Beilenson with Harry Behn, reads:

    Everything I touch
    with tenderness, alas,
    pricks like a bramble.

Issa's most popular and commonly known tome, titled The Spring of My Life, is autobiographical in content, and its structure combines prose and haiku.


Complete in:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kobayashi_Issa


Kobayashi Issa - The storehouse in Kashiwabara where Issa took refuge when his house burnt down. He pass his last days here.


Poetry: Kobayahsi Issa - Seven Haiku - Part 1 - Bio data - Links

 


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Poesia: Antonio Machado - Amanecer en Valencia - La muerte del niño herido - Links a mas poemas de Machado




Amanecer en Valencia

Estas rachas de marzo, en los desvanes
-hacia la mar- del tiempo; la paloma
de pluma tornasol, los tulipanes
gigantes del jardín, y el sol que asoma,

bola de fuego entre morada bruma,
a iluminar la tierra valentina...
¡Hervor de leche y plata, añil y espuma,
y velas blancas en la mar latina!

Valencia de fecundas primaveras,
de floridas almunias y arrozales,
feliz quiero cantarte, como eras,

domando a un ancho río en tus canales,
al dios marino con tus albuferas,
al centauro de amor con tus rosales.






La muerte del niño herido

Otra vez en la noche... Es el martillo
de las fiebre en las sienes bien vendadas
del niño. -Madre, ¡el pájaro amarillo!
¡las mariposas negras y moradas!

-Duerme, hijo mio- Y la manita oprime
la madre, junto al lecho. -¡Oh flor de fuego!
¿quién ha de helarte, flor de sangre, dime?
Hay en la pobre alcoba olor de espliego;

fuera, la oronda luna que blanquea
cúpula y torre a la ciudad sombría.
Invisible avión moscardonea.

-¿Duermes, oh dulce flor de sangre mía?
El cristal del balcón repiquetea.
-¡Oh, fría, fría, fría, fría, fría!













Poesia: Antonio Machado - Amanecer en Valencia - La muerte del niño herido - Links a mas poemas de Machado

 


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My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

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Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

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Photos – Fotos: Consuelo Kanaga – Part 5 - Links to more CK


Consuelo Kanaga - Florida Farm Workers 1950

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Frances early 1930s

 
Consuelo Kanaga - From the series Downtown New York 1922-1924

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Girl at Easter, New York 1930s

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Give Us This Day

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Glasses and Reflections 1948

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Hands 1930

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Harvey Zook 1940

 
Consuelo Kanaga - House Plant 1930Consuelo Kanaga - House Plant 1930
 
Consuelo Kanaga - Kenneth Spencer 1933



Consuelo Kanaga - Malnutrition, New York 1928

 
Consuelo Kanaga - Man with Rooster, New York mid-late 1930s


Photos – Fotos: Consuelo Kanaga – Part 5 - Links to more CK

 


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My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

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Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)










Music: Dean & Britta - I'll Keep it With Mine - Scott Hardkiss Acoustic Remix for Andy Warhol-Nico - The Sun Is Still Sunny (on Shocking Blue Sessions) - Lyrics - Data



Dean & Britta
EEUU 

video

Dean & Britta - I'll Keep it With Mine - Scott Hardkiss Acoustic Remix for Andy Warhol-Nico

You will search, babe, at any cost,
But how long, babe, can you search for what's not lost ?
Everybody will help you,
Some people are very kind.
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I'll keep it with mine.
I can't help it if you might think I am odd
If I say I'm not loving you for what you are
But for what you're not.
Everybody will help you,
Discover what you set out to find
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I'll keep it with mine.

The train leaves at half past ten
But it'll be back tomorrow same time again.
The conductor, he's weary,
Still stuck on the line.
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I'll keep it with mine



video

Dean & Britta - Perform The Sun Is Still Sunny on Shocking Blue Sessions

Your daddy is drinking a toast to the rain
Sister is watching TV
Daddy is drinking a toast to the rain
We're not going back there again
Inside my suitcase an orchestra plays
La da da da da da da

The sun is still sunny
The lawn is still green
And I haven't forgot a thing
I don't know what to say
I can't say what to do
But we're not going back there again

The afternoon papers are calling your name
They say that you've done it again
It's chicken today and feathers tomorrow
We're not going back there again

Inside my suitcase an orchestra plays
La da da da da da da

The sun is still sunny
The lawn is still green
And I haven't forgot a thing
I don't know what to say
I can't say what to do
But we're not going back there again

La la la la

La da da da da da da

The sun is still sunny
The lawn is still green
And I haven't forgot a thing
I don't know what to say
I can't say what to do
But we're not going back there again 



Dean & Britta is a musical duo consisting of Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, both former members of Luna. Wareham had formed Luna in 1991 after leaving his first band, Galaxie 500. Phillips joined Luna in 2000, replacing bassist Justin Harwood.


History

Their first album started out as a Wareham solo project, but when he heard Phillips' demos, he asked her to join him. "L'Avventura" was produced by Tony Visconti and was released on Jetset Records in 2003 under the name "Britta Phillips & Dean Wareham." After hearing the album, Peter Kember (a.k.a. Sonic Boom of Spacemen 3, Spectrum, & E.A.R.) fell in love with it and did a remix mini LP entitled "Sonic Souvenirs" (also on Jetset Records).

After Luna broke up in 2005, Dean & Britta spent the next year working on film scores (most notably Noah Baumbach's movie, The Squid and the Whale), and promoting the documentary film of Luna's farewell tour Tell Me Do You Miss Me. They were married during the recording of their album Back Numbers (also produced by Tony Visconti), and simplified their name to "Dean & Britta". Back Numbers was released on Rounder Records in February 2007 followed by a limited edition EP, "Words You Used To Say". In 2006 Dean and Britta did a Take-Away Show video session shot by Vincent Moon.[1]

In 2008, Dean & Britta covered The Cure's "Friday I'm In Love" for American Laundromat Records tribute compilation "Just Like Heaven - a tribute to The Cure".
Discography
Albums

    L'Avventura (2003)
    Back Numbers (2007)
    13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests (2010)

EPs

    Sonic Souvenirs (2004)
    Words You Used to Say (2006)
    Variations (2008)

Soundtracks

    The Squid and the Whale (2005)
    "Tenure" (2009)

Complete in:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dean_%26_Britta







Music: Dean & Britta - I'll Keep it With Mine - Scott Hardkiss Acoustic Remix for Andy Warhol-Nico - The Sun Is Still Sunny (on Shocking Blue Sessions) - Lyrics - Data

 


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Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

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Cuento: Enrique Anderson Imbert -El ganador - Espiral - 2 minicuentos - Links a mas Cuento



c

El ganador
     Minicuento.


Bandidos asaltan la ciudad de Mexcatle y ya dueños del botín de guerra emprenden la retirada. El plan es refugiarse al otro lado de la frontera, pero mientras tanto pasan la noche en una casa en ruinas, abandonada en el camino. A la luz de las velas juegan a los naipes. Cada uno apuesta las prendas que ha saqueado. Partida tras partida, el azar favorece al Bizco, quien va apilando las ganancias debajo de la mesa: monedas, relojes, alhajas, candelabros... Temprano por la mañana el Bizco mete lo ganado en una bolsa, la carga sobre los hombros y agobiado bajo ese peso sigue a sus compañeros, que marchan cantando hacia la frontera. La atraviesan, llegan sanos y salvos a la encrucijada donde han resuelto separarse y allí matan al Bizco. Lo habían dejado ganar para que les transportase el pesado botín.

Enrique Anderson Imbert


 Enrique Anderson Imbert
Argentina
 
Espiral


Regresé a casa en la madrugada, cayéndome de sueño. Al entrar, todo obscuro. Para no despertar a nadie avancé de puntillas y llegué a la escalera de caracol que conducía a mi cuarto. Apenas puse el pie en el primer escalón dudé de si ésa era mi casa o una casa idéntica a la mía. Y mientras subía temí que otro muchacho, igual a mí, estuviera durmiendo en mi cuarto y acaso soñándome en el acto mismo de subir por la escalera de caracol. Di la última vuelta, abrí la puerta y allí estaba él, o yo, todo iluminado de Luna, sentado en la cama, con los ojos bien abiertos. Nos quedamos un instante mirándonos de hito en hito. Nos sonreímos. Sentí que la sonrisa de él era la que también me pesaba en la boca: como en un espejo, uno de los dos era falaz. «¿Quién sueña con quién?», exclamó uno de nosotros, o quizá ambos simultáneamente. En ese momento oímos ruidos de pasos en la escalera de caracol: de un salto nos metimos uno en otro y así fundidos nos pusimos a soñar al que venía subiendo, que era yo otra vez.

Enrique Anderson Imbert
 

Cuento: Enrique Anderson Imbert -El ganador - Espiral - 2 minicuentos - Links a mas Cuento
 


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Capiscum

My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)