5/20/2009

Freebie- Adios...y hasta siempre Mario Benedetti!!! (Good bye ...and always Mario Benedetti)

Mi propio y humilde tributo a Mario...
Querido Mario...
Por siempre,
tu pluma tan solo reposa entre el silencio de la piel,
mas tus versos,
palabras y aliento continúa sonoro y persistente en la escencia de mi carné de identidad..

Gracias Mario, con todo mi amor, orgullo y absoluta devoción:
una uruguaya como tantas, Karen.


And here is my kit made for Mario and my country Uruguay,
Y aca esta el kit que hice en nombre de un muy humilde tributo a uno de las más esculturales personalidades de mi país y del mundo: Querido Mario...
Pueden bajar el kit desde aqui:
Download the kit here:
http://www.4shared.com/file/106507762/d04ff84c/kakleid_queridomario1.html

http://www.4shared.com/file/106518099/a0491268/kakleid_queridomario2.html



Wallpaper -Mario1
(para bajarlo, solo pincha en la imagen y guardalo como..., to save the wallpapers just click on the image and choose save as...)


Wallpaper Mario 2




Layouts made with a special kit I made for Mario,
Paginas que hice para mi querido Mario usando mi kit: Querido Mario..."
Mario Benedetti

Poeta y novelista uruguayo nacido en 1920 en Paso de Los Toros.
Recibió la formación primaria y secundaria en Montevideo y a los dieciocho años se trasladó a Buenos Aires donde residió por varios años. En 1945 formó parte del famoso semanario «Marcha» donde se formó como periodista, colaborando allí hasta 1974.
Ocupó el cargo de director del Departamento de Literatura Hispanoamericana en la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias de la Universidad de Montevideo.
Desde 1983 se radicó en España donde permanece la mayor parte del año. Obtuvo el VIII Premio Reina Sofía de Poesía y recibió el título de Doctor Honoris Causa por la Universidad de Alicante.
Su vasta producción literaria abarca todos los géneros, incluyendo famosas letras de canciones, cuentos y ensayos, traducidos en su mayoría a varios idiomas.
De su extensa obra se encuentran entre otros, la novela «Gracias por el fuego», «El olvido está lleno de memoria», y los poemarios, «Inventario Uno» e «Inventario Dos».
Falleció en Montevideo en mayo de 2009.

Uruguay's Mario Benedetti has dazzled the literary world as a poet, novelist, essayist, critic, journalist, playwright, songwriter, and screenwriter. This first ever bilingual edition of Only in the Meantime & Office Poems introduces Benedetti's poetry to the English-speaking audience. Opening as reflections of everyday life in Montevideo, the poetry blossoms into an art which speaks to all people from all walks of life. Benedetti's extraordinary handling of irony and simplicity alongside his poetry's unmistakable rhythm make him one of the most brilliant observers of 20th century life.

Uruguay mourns writer Benedetti
Uruguayan writer Mario Benedetti, whose novels were widely translated and poems set to music, has died at the age of 88 at his home in Montevideo.

Benedetti's work chronicled the life of Uruguay's middle-class and was popular throughout the Spanish-speaking world.

He lived in exile from 1973 to 1983 during military rule in Uruguay and was well-known as a supporter of the Cuban government.
His readings of his work attracted sell-out crowds in Uruguay.

"I don't think we should be talking of a loss, because he will be with us forever," Uruguayan Culture Minister Maria Simon told local media.

Born to Italian immigrants, Benedetti wrote more than 80 novels, poems, short stories and essays during a career spanning six decades.

His 1960 novel The Truce was translated into 19 languages and made into a film.

Spanish singer Joan Manuel Serrat set Benedetti's poems to music, including The South Also Exists, an anti-US polemic.

A left-wing activist, Benedetti went into exile when the military came to power in Uruguay in 1973. He returned to his homeland 10 years later in what he dubbed his "unexile".

Benedetti died at home on Sunday morning. He had suffered from respiratory and intestinal problems and had recently spent some time in hospital.

Mis poemas favoritos y algunos traducidos al Inglés:
My favorite poems and some translated to English:

NO TE SALVES

No te quedes inmóvil
al borde del camino
no congeles el júbilo
no quieras con desgana
no te salves ahora
ni nunca
no te salves
no te llenes de calma
no reserves del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
no dejes caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
no te quedes sin labios
no te duermas sin sueño
no te pienses sin sangre
no te juzgues sin tiempo

pero si
pese a todo
no puedes evitarlo
y congelas el júbilo
y quieres con desgana
y te salvas ahora
y te llenas de calma
y reservas del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
y dejas caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
y te secas sin labios
y te duermes sin sueño
y te piensas sin sangre
y te juzgas sin tiempo
y te quedas inmóvil
al borde del camino
y te salvas
entonces
no te quedes conmigo.

Don't save yourself
(Thanks so much to my dear friends Addie and Elsina from Addie's designs and EMS Arts for a wonderful translation)

Do not stay motionless on the side of the road
do not freeze the joy
do not love without wanting
do not save yourself now
nor ever.
Do not save yourself
do not fill yourself with calm
do not set aside from the world
just a quiet corner
do not let your eyelashes fall
heavy as judgements
do not end without lips
do not sleep without being sleeepy
do not think yourself without blood
do not judge yourself with no time.

But, if
after all
you can not help it
and freeze the joy
and love without wanting
and save yourself now
and you fill with calm
and reserve from the world
only a quiet place
and let your eyelashes fall
heavy as judgements
and dry without lips
and sleep without being sleepy
and think yourself without blood
and judge yourself with no time
and stay motionless
on the side of the road
and you save yourself
then
do not stay with me.

ME SIRVE Y NO ME SIRVE

Me sirve y no me sirve
La esperanza tan dulce,
tan pulida, tan triste,
la promesa tan leve,
no me sirve.
No me sirve tan mansa la esperanza

La rabia tan sumisa,
tan débil, tan humilde,
el furor tan prudente
no me sirve.
No me sirve
Tan sabia tanta rabia.

El grito tan exacto
si el tiempo lo permite,
alarido tan pulcro
no me sirve.
No me sirve tan bueno
Tanto trueno

El coraje tan dócil
la bravura tan chirle,
la intrepidez tan lenta
no me sirve.
No me sirve
tan fría la osadía.

Si me sirve la vida
que es vida hasta morirse,
y el corazón alerta sí me sirve.
Me sirve cuando avanza
la confianza.

Me sirve tu mirada
que es generosa y firme,
y tu silencio franco sí me sirve.
Me sirve la medida de tu vida.

Me sirve tu futuro
que es un presente libre,
y tu lucha de siempre
sí me sirve.
Me sirve tu batalla
sin medalla.

Me sirve la modestia
de tu orgullo posible,
y tu mano segura
sí me sirve.
Me sirve tu sendero,
compañero.

Little Stones at My Window


Once in a while
joy throws little stones at my window
it wants to let me know that it's waiting for me
but today I'm calm
I'd almost say even-tempered
I'm going to keep anxiety locked up
and then lie flat on my back
which is an elegant and comfortable position
for receiving and believing news

who knows where I'll be next
or when my story will be taken into account
who knows what advice I still might come up with
and what easy way out I'll take not to follow it

don't worry, I won't gamble with an eviction
I won't tattoo remembering with forgetting
there are many things left to say and suppress
and many grapes left to fill our mouths

don't worry, I'm convinced
joy doesn't need to throw any more little stones
I'm coming
I'm coming.


Still

I can´t still believe it,
You are arriving to my side
And the night is a handful
Of stars and happiness.

I feel, taste, listen and see
Your face, your long step,
Your hands and, however,
I can´t still believe it.

Your return has so much
In common with you and me,
That, because I guess it I say it,
And because of the doubts I sing it.

No one ever could replace you
And the most trivial things
Become fundamental,
Because you are arriving home,
However I still
Doubt of this good luck,
Because the pleasure of having you
Seems to me like a fantasy.

But you come and it is sure
And you come with your gaze,
And for that reason your arrival
Makes the future magic.

And although I have not always understood
My blames and my breakdowns,
On the other hand I know that in your arms
The world has sense.

And if I kiss the audacity
And the mystery of your lips
There won't be doubts nor misunderstandings,
I will love you much more.



Let´s Make A Deal

When you feel your wound about to bleed
When you feel your voice about to sob
Count on me.

Partner,
You know
You can count
On me
Not up to two
Or up to ten,
But count
On me.

If sometimes
You notice
That I look into your eyes
And a vein of love
You recognize in mine
Don't alert your rifles
Nor think "what a delirium",
In spite of the vein
Or perhaps because it exists
You can count
On me.

If several times
You feel me
Unsociable without reason
Don't think "what a slack",
The same way you can count
On me.

But let´s make a deal,
I would like to count
On you,
It is so nice
To know you exist,
One feels alive
And when I say this
I mean count
Even though it´s up to two
or even though it´s up to five,
Not to make you come
Hasty to my aid
But to know
certainly
That you know you can
Count on me.



If I Could Choose My Landscape

If I could choose my landscape
Of memorable things, my landscape
Of lonely Autumn,
I would choose, I would steal this street
That is previous to me and to all.

She returns my useless gaze,
The one of fifteen or twenty years ago
When the green house was poisoning the sky.
For that reason it is cruel to leave it in this sunset
With so many balconies as lonely nests
And so many steps hoped more than ever.

Here there will always be, here, the enemies,
The soft spies of the loneliness,
Women legs that carry my eyes
Far from the quadratic equation.

Here there are birds, rain, some death,
Dry leaves, horns and lonely names,
Clouds that are growing in front of my window
While humidity brings laments and flies.

However past also exists
With their sudden roses and modest scandals,
With their hard sounds of any anxiety
And their insignificant itch of memories.

Ah if I could choose my landscape
I would choose, I would steal this street,
This recently grown dark street
The one I bloodily revive in
And the one of which I know with strict nostalgia
The number and the name of its seventy trees.

Mario Benedetti
=================

3 comments:

  1. love your blog..just came across it.. im a beginner digital scrapper.. have to tell ya LOVE LOVE!! your setlist :) Springsteen is my FAV!!! glad to see youre a fan too!! love him!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you so much for this Freebie. I want to let you know that I posted a link to your blog in Creative Busy Hands Scrapbook Freebies Search List, under the Kit(s) post on May. 20, 2009. Thanks again.

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  3. Thank you! Your blog post will be advertised on the DigiFree Digital Scrapbooking Freebie search engine today (look for timestamp: 21 May [LA 02:50am, NY 04:50am, UK 09:50am, OZ 07:50pm] ).

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