¡Excelente texto y excelente video!!!! Pero de verdad hay que tener muchos huevos para ser un hombre real y libre!, es ir en contra del sistema y en contra del resto del mundo que ya ha sido domesticado, yo por lo menos lo deseo de todo corazón pero no me he atrevido de verdad.
Pues saludos desde tierras Mexicanas!!! Lee esto, también te va a impresionar je je. Yo también soy un poeta!!! ja ja. Tenía algunas ideas de la belleza, pero esto de verdad, no lo había considerado, ni siquiera en sueños. Cómo va cayendo la tarde, las luces que se ven, las que no se ven que sólo se presienten, anunciando la completud irremediable de la noche. Volteo y veo tu rostro suave y expectante. ¿Se puede pedir algo a la vida? Tan sólo un ferrari rojo.
the man with the beautiful eyes - charles bukowski when we were kids there was a strange house all the shades were always drawn and we never heard voices in there and the yard was full of bamboo and we liked to play in the bamboo pretend we were Tarzan (although there was no Jane). and there was a fish pond a large one full of the fattest goldfish you ever saw and they were tame. they came to the surface of the water and took pieces of bread from our hands. Our parents had told us: "never go near that house." so, of course, we went. we wondered if anybody liveed there. weeks went by and we never saw anybody. then one day we heard a voice from the house "YOU GOD DAMNED WHORE!" it was a man's voice. then the screen door of the house was flung open and the man walked out. he was holding a fifth of whiskey in his right hand. he was about 30. he had a cigar in his mouth, needed a shave. his hair was wild and and uncombed and he was barefoot in undershirt and pants. but his eyes were bright. they blazed with brightness and he said, "hey, little gentlemen, having a good time, I hope?" then he gave a little laugh and walked back into the house. we left, went back to my parents' yard and thought about it. our parents, we decided, had wanted us to stay away from there because they never wanted us to see a man like that, a strong natural man with beautiful eyes. our parents were ashamed that they were not like that man, that's why they wanted us to stay away. but we went back to that house and the bamboo and the tame goldfish. we went back many times for many weeks but we never saw or heard the man again. the shades were down as always and it was quiet. then one day as we came back from school we saw the house. it had burned down, there was nothing left, just a smouldering twisted black foundation and we went to the fish pond and there was no water in it and the fat orange goldfish were dead there, drying out. we went back to my parents' yard and talked about it and decided that our parents had burned their house down, had killed them had killed the goldfish because it was all too beautiful, even the bamboo forest had burned. they had been afraid of the man with the beautiful eyes. and we were afraid then that all throughout our lives things like that would happen, that nobody wanted anybody to be strong and beautiful like that, that others would never allow it, and that many people would have to die.
wapisimo el video y el poema mejor aun. pero... la proxima vez pon los subtitulos en algun color que no impida leerlo, nose, en este unos subtitulos rojos por ejmplo estaria mejor que el amarillo. De todas formas, wapisimo el video.
Erika, es raro encontrar mujeres que aprecien esto, al menos en mi círculo social, no te quieres casar conmigo? je je, no te creas. Pobre Hank, su extremada sensibilidad no soportó, primero la brutalidad de su padre y luego su agudo acné juvenil, pero ese dolor es la sustancia de los poetas. Ja ja, no es demasiado evidente que te quiero impresionar con mi discurso? Ya me quiero parecer al Bukowski ja ja.
charles bukowski es sin duda uno de los mejores escritores del siglo xx, un genio. el corto esta muy bueno.
Ay Bukowski!!!... sino fuera por ti ya no existiría. Eres el mejor remedio contra mi nostalgia.
Maravilloso poema, excelente animación ¡Vale la pena estar vivo para ver esto! ♥
simplemente oir esa voz tan pausada, me da una calma que me produce buen rollo.
Excelente, buena traducción también. Gracias.
bueniiismoooo. qepd charles
El video es una joya,el poema es increible magnifica animación también me cautiva la voz. un sincero aplauso.
Bravo!
el video es una puerta hacia la vida de Charles, es un secreto hablado
¡Excelente texto y excelente video!!!! Pero de verdad hay que tener muchos huevos para ser un hombre real y libre!, es ir en contra del sistema y en contra del resto del mundo que ya ha sido domesticado, yo por lo menos lo deseo de todo corazón pero no me he atrevido de verdad.
hermoso cortometraje.
Héroe. Profeta. Genio. Loco. Artista. Sólo Bukowski
LOVE IT
Cuando te desapegas de las cosas encuentras la libertad
Depende a que le llames "cosas".
muy buen video, lastima que no se vea muy bien los subtitulos
ES OTRA DIMENSION,LOS OJOS DEL HOMBRE LIBRE,VISTO X LOS OJOS INOCENTES.
buenísimo
Pues saludos desde tierras Mexicanas!!! Lee esto, también te va a impresionar je je. Yo también soy un poeta!!! ja ja.
Tenía algunas ideas de la belleza,
pero esto de verdad, no lo había considerado, ni siquiera en sueños.
Cómo va cayendo la tarde, las luces que se ven, las que no se ven que sólo se presienten, anunciando la completud irremediable de la noche.
Volteo y veo tu rostro suave y expectante. ¿Se puede pedir algo a la vida?
Tan sólo un ferrari rojo.
Obra maestra
Jajajajajaja Sí, es un poco evidente :)
Saludos desde estas tierras Colombianas
el video y el poema son buenismos! de todas formas, las letras podrian haber sido de otro color, mas visible
the man with the beautiful eyes - charles bukowski
when we were kids
there was a strange house
all the shades were
always
drawn
and we never heard voices
in there
and the yard was full of
bamboo
and we liked to play in
the bamboo
pretend we were
Tarzan
(although there was no
Jane).
and there was a
fish pond
a large one
full of the
fattest goldfish
you ever saw
and they were
tame.
they came to the
surface of the water
and took pieces of
bread
from our hands.
Our parents had
told us:
"never go near that
house."
so, of course,
we went.
we wondered if anybody
liveed there.
weeks went by and we
never saw
anybody.
then one day
we heard
a voice
from the house
"YOU GOD DAMNED
WHORE!"
it was a man's
voice.
then the screen
door
of the house was
flung open
and the man
walked
out.
he was holding a
fifth of whiskey
in his right
hand.
he was about
30.
he had a cigar
in his
mouth,
needed a shave.
his hair was
wild and
and uncombed
and he was
barefoot
in undershirt
and pants.
but his eyes
were
bright.
they blazed
with
brightness
and he said,
"hey, little
gentlemen,
having a good
time, I
hope?"
then he gave a
little laugh
and walked
back into the
house.
we left,
went back to my
parents' yard
and thought
about it.
our parents,
we decided,
had wanted us
to stay away
from there
because they
never wanted us
to see a man
like
that,
a strong natural
man
with
beautiful
eyes.
our parents
were ashamed
that they were
not
like that
man,
that's why they
wanted us
to stay
away.
but
we went back
to that house
and the bamboo
and the tame
goldfish.
we went back
many times
for many weeks
but we never
saw
or heard
the man
again.
the shades were
down
as always
and it was
quiet.
then one day
as we came back from
school
we saw the
house.
it had burned
down,
there was nothing
left,
just a smouldering
twisted black
foundation
and we went to
the fish pond
and there was
no water
in it
and the fat
orange goldfish
were dead
there,
drying out.
we went back to
my parents' yard
and talked about
it
and decided that
our parents had
burned their
house down,
had killed
them
had killed the
goldfish
because it was
all too
beautiful,
even the bamboo
forest had
burned.
they had been
afraid of
the man with the
beautiful
eyes.
and
we were afraid
then
that
all throughout our lives
things like that
would
happen,
that nobody
wanted
anybody
to be
strong and
beautiful
like that,
that
others would never
allow it,
and that
many people
would have to
die.
En varios pasajes los subtítulos son ilegibles... pero se agadece la iniciativa.
wapisimo el video y el poema mejor aun. pero... la proxima vez pon los subtitulos en algun color que no impida leerlo, nose, en este unos subtitulos rojos por ejmplo estaria mejor que el amarillo. De todas formas, wapisimo el video.
DE quién es el Corto???? es simil al Estilo de Bill Plimton...
¿En qué libro aparece este poema? Me encantó
buen trabajo, pero el color de las letras se pierde un poco,
un minimo detalle...
pero buen trabajo se agradece
El poema se llama "Un atardecer, un ferrari rojo y tú" Nota que sigo tratando de impresionarte, je je. Saludos!!!
No se puede leer con letras amarillas, sobre color.
Claro que me encanta Buloswski, pero imposible de leer.
Es sobrecogedor el mensaje!!!
me voy esto no se puede leer
Erika, es raro encontrar mujeres que aprecien esto, al menos en mi círculo social, no te quieres casar conmigo? je je, no te creas. Pobre Hank, su extremada sensibilidad no soportó, primero la brutalidad de su padre y luego su agudo acné juvenil, pero ese dolor es la sustancia de los poetas. Ja ja, no es demasiado evidente que te quiero impresionar con mi discurso? Ya me quiero parecer al Bukowski ja ja.
LOVE IT