Cute little zarzuela video

Zarzuela (pronounced [θarˈθwela] in Spain, [sarˈswela] in Latinoamerica), is a Spanish lyric-dramatic genre that alternates between spoken and sung scenes, the latter incorporating operatic and popular song, as well as dance. The name derives from a Royal hunting lodge, the Palacio de la Zarzuela near Madrid, where this type of entertainment was first presented to the court.






Dúo Maripepa y Felipe:

Fel. ¿Por qué de mis ojos los tuyos retiras? Mari-P. ¿Por qué me desprecias? ¿Por qué no me miras? Fel. ¿Yo? ¡No! Mari-P. ¡Tú! Fel.¡No! ¿Por qué de ese modo te fijas en mí? Mari-P. ¿Qué quieres decirme mirándome así? ¿Por qué sin motivos te pones tan triste? Fel. ¿Por qué de mi lado tan pronto te fuiste? ¿Mari-P. Yo? ¡No! Fel. ¡Tú! Mari-P. ¡No! Fel. ¿Por qué de ese modo te fijas en mí? Mari-P. ¿Qué quieres decirme mirándome así? Fel. ¡Así! Mari-P. ¡Así! Fel. ¿Me quieres? Mari-P. ¿Me quieres? Los dos ¿Me quieres? Fel. ¡Sí! Mari-P. ¡Sí! ¡Ay, Felipe del alma! ¡Si contigo solamente yo soñaba! Fel. ¡Mari-Pepa de mi vida! ¡Si tan sólo en tí pensaba noche y día! ¡Mírame así! Mari-P. ¡Mírame así! Los dos ¡Pa que vea tu alma leyendo en tus ojos, y sepa (serrana / serrano) qué piensas de mí...

Fel. Why do your eyes avoid mine? Mari-P. Why do you despise me? Why do you ignore me? Fel. I? No! Mari-P. You! Fel. No! Why do you fix your eyes on me that way? Mari-P. What do you want to say to me, watching me like this? Why without reason make yourself so sad? Fel. Why were you so soon at my side? Mari-P. I? No! Fel. You! Mari-P. No! Fel. Why do you fix your eyes on me that way? Mari-P. What do you want to say to me, watching me like this? Fel. Like this! Mari-P. Like this! Fel. You want me? Mari-P. You want me? Both You want me? Fel. Yes! Mari-P. Yes! Ay, Felipe, my soul! Only about you have I dreamed! Fel. Mari-Pepa, my darling! Only about you have I thought night and day! Look at me! Mari-P. Look at me! Both I see your soul in your eyes, and know all your thoughts of me.

Fel. La de los claveles dobles, la del manojo de rosas, la de la falda de céfiro, y el pañuelo de crespón; la que iría a la verbena cogidita de mi brazo... ¡eres tú!... ¡porque te quiero chula de mi corazón! Mari-P. ¡El hombre de mis fatigas, pa mí siempre en cuerpo y alma, pa mí sola, sin que nadie me dispute su pasión! con quien iría del brazo tan feliz a la verbena... eres tú... ¡porque te quiero, chulo de mi corazón!

Fel. The girl with the double carnations, the girl with the bunch of roses, the girl with the fine cotton dress, and the crepe kerchief; the girl that walks to the verbena nestled in my arms... you are she... because I want you, girl of my heart! Mari-P. That man, my grief, who possesses me body and soul, who alone holds me, with no rival to share his passion! on whose arm I walk happily to the verbena... you are he... because I want you, lad of my heart!

Fel. ¡Ay, chiquilla! ¡Por Dios! Mari-P. ¡Zalamero! ¡Chiquillo! Fel. ¡Chiquilla! Mari-P. ¡No me hables así! Fel. ¡Te quiero! Mari-P. ¡Te quiero! Los dos ¿Me quieres a mí? ¿No te voy a querer, prenda mía?... De mi, ¿qué seria sin ti?... Fel. ¡Nena mia! Mari-P. ¡Felipillo! Fel. ¡Mi morucha! Mari-P. ¡Mi querer! Fel. ¡Tú eres esa! Mari-P. ¡Tú eres ese! Los dos ¡Pues si tú no fueras, mi vida! ¿quién lo había de ser?... ¿Me quieres?... ¿Me quieres? ¿Me quieres tú a mí? ¡De mí qué sería sin ti!

Fel. Ay, girl! By God! Mari-P. Flattering boy! Fel. My girl! Mari-P. What things you say! Fel. I want you! Mari-P. I want you! Both You love me? Do you love me, my sweet?... What would I be without you?... Fel. Baby! Mari-P. Little Felipe! Fel. My animal! Mari-P. My desire! Fel. That you are! Mari-P. That you are! Both If you were not, my darling! what would life be?... You want me... You want me? We love one another? What would I be without you!

Fray Luis desde la cátedra

This is a satire I wrote around the drafting of the European Constitution and the rejection of all references to Christianity. Here is the Spanish original followed by an English translation.

Fray Luis desde la cátedra

Decíamos ayer . . . .

Cosas bonitas y sublimes que se prohibían

Y hoy igual que ayer las volvemos a repetir.

Fue apenas ayer, me acuerdo que decíamos . . .

Esto y aquello mas sin temor

Y con saña secreta vinieron y nos callaron.

Ahora mismo lo decimos en voz alta,

Mañana y pasado igual.

No se trata de poder y prestigio,

Estimados señores, no se trata de eso en absoluto

Sino de algo más profundo,

De verdades, se trata, de simples verdades

Y si por eso nos critican, y nos zahieren

Muy bien,

No por eso dejarán de ser verdades mañana o pasado.

No hay manera de evitarlo.

Así que adelante , insignes señores,

Adelante con sus mañas silenciosas,

Adelante con todo bozal y censura.

Pues a la postre se oyerá pese a todo prognóstico

Y se grabará en la memoria de las gentes,

Quizá en el inconsciente pero ahí quedará

Para brotar con mansedumbre

Cuando menos se espere, acaso alguna noche de San Juan

Bajo las estrellas, estas palabras volverán a dar su fruto

Pero ésta no será ninguna victoria rencorosa

Sino de paciencia y firmeza de espíritu

Y ojalá aquel día sus afanes y los nuestros sean los mismos . . .

Lo decíamos ayer, lo decimos hoy, lo diremos siempre:

A. ésta no es una pipa.

B. Jesucristo murió y resucitó pero no para redimir la humanidad sino más bien quitarse de en medio de treinta años y pico de impuestos romanos. Acuérdate que fue Judas el que se encargaba de la pasta.

C. Europa y Occidente tienen su historia,

una historia que no se entiende sin el cristianismo.

D. Pascual es la leche.

Translation:

Fray Luis from the lectern

As we were saying yesterday . . .

Beautiful and sublime things that were prohibited

And today the same as yesterday we repeat them once more.

It was just yesterday I remember we said . . .

This thing and that but without fear

And with secret rage they came and silenced us.

Right now we say it aloud

The same as tomorrow and the day after.

It is not about power and prestige

Dear sirs, it is not about that at all,

But something much deeper.

It is about truths, simple truths,

And if they criticize and wound us for that

So be it.

Not for that will these things stop being true today or tomorrow

It is unavoidable.

Go ahead, illustrious sirs,

With your silence machinations

With all muzzle and censorhip

For in the end it will be heard

Despite all predictions

And it will be recorded in people’s memory

Maybe only in the subconscious

But there it will remain to spring forth quietly

When you least expect it.

Perhaps some St. John’s eve

Beneath the stars

These words will once again give fruit

But this won’t be some resentful victory

But fraught with patience and firmness of spirit.

And let us hope that on that day

Your cares and ours will be the same . . .

As we said yesterday, we say today, and we’ll say it tomorrow:

A. This is not a pipe.

B. Jesus Christ died and resurrected but not to redeem humanity but rather to avoid thirty or so years of Roman back taxes. Remember that Judas was in charge of finances.

C. Europe and the West have their own history, a history which cannot be understood without Christianity.

D. Pascual brand Milk is the shiznit.

Kopi Luak on the Colbert Report

The special Indonesian Coffee, made from the leavings of a cat-like creature, called Kopi Luak- "Luak Coffee" garnered a mention on Colbert Platinum. Amusing.

A fable by Robert Louis Stevenson en español

Robert Louis (Balfour) Stevenson (November 13, 1850–December 3, 1894), was a Scottish novelist, poet and travel writer, and a representative of neo-romanticism in English literature. He was the man who "seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins", as G. K. Chesterton put it. He was also greatly admired by many authors, including Jorge Luis Borges, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Vladimir Nabokov,^[1] and J. M. Barrie.^[2] Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their definition of modernism. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the canon.

Including:

Treasure Island (1883)

A Child's Garden of Verses (1885)

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886)

Los cuatro reformadores

Cuatro reformadores se encontraron bajo una zarza. Y estaban de acuerdo, eso sí, de que habría de cambiar el mundo.

-Tenemos que abolir la propiedad- dijo uno.

-Hay que aniquilar el matrimonio- dijo otro.

-Tenemos que acabar con Dios- dijo el tercero.

-Ojalá pudiéramos cargar con el trabajo- dijo el cuarto.

-No nos alejemos de política pragmática- dijo el primero. –La primera cosa será reducir al hombre a un nivel común.

-Primero habrá que darle libertad a ambos sexos- dijo segundo.

-Y antes de eso tendremos que averiguar cómo se hace- dijo el tercero.

-El primer paso será abolir la Biblia- dijo el primero.

-Primero habrá que arrasar las leyes- dijo el segundo

-Pero antes de todo habrá que acabar con la humanidad- dijo el tercero.

(extracto de Fábulas (1888))

The Four Reformers

FOUR reformers met under a bramble bush. They were all agreed the world must be changed. “We must abolish property,” said one.

“We must abolish marriage,” said the second.

“We must abolish God,” said the third.

“I wish we could abolish work,” said the fourth.

“Do not let us get beyond practical politics,” said the first. "The first thing is to reduce men to a common level.”

“The first thing,” said the second, “is to give freedom to the sexes.”

“The first thing,” said the third, “is to find out how to do it.”

“The first step,” said the first, “is to abolish the Bible.”

“The first thing,” said the second, “is to abolish the laws.”

“The first thing,” said the third, “is to abolish mankind.”

(from Fables (1888))

And Now for Something Completely Different

Photos of an Armenian Church: The Holy Lance Church

(From English Russia)

Dryden en español I

John Dryden (August 19 [O.S. August 9] 1631–May 12 [O.S. May 1] 1700) was an influential English poet, literary critic, translator and playwright, who dominated the literary life of Restoration England to such a point that the period came to be known in literary circles as the Age of Dryden.
Dryden was the dominant literary figure and influence of his age.^{[citation needed]} He established the heroic couplet as the standard meter of English poetry, by writing successful satires, religious pieces, fables, epigrams, compliments, prologues, and plays in it; he also introduced the alexandrine and triplet into the form. In his poems, translations, and criticism, he established a poetic diction appropriate to the heroic couplet—Auden referred to him as "the master of the middle style"^[7]—that was a model for his contemporaries and for much of the 18th century. The considerable loss felt by the English literary community at his death was evident from the elegies which it inspired.^[8] Dryden's heroic couplet became the dominant poetic form of the 18th century. The most influential poet of the 18th century, Alexander Pope, was heavily influenced by Dryden, and often borrowed from him; other writers were equally influenced by Dryden and Pope. Pope famously praised Dryden's versification in his imitation of Horace's Epistle II.i: "Dryden taught to join / The varying pause, the full resounding line, / The long majestic march, and energy divine." Samuel Johnson^[9] summed up the general attitude with his remark that "the veneration with which his name is pronounced by every cultivator of English literature, is paid to him as he refined the language, improved the sentiments, and tuned the numbers of English poetry." His poems were very widely read, and are often quoted, for instance, in Tom Jones and Johnson's essays.

(From Wikipedia)


Canción del italiano de <> o El amable guardián

Yaciendo bajo melancólico ciprés

Lloraba Damián, todo pálido y moribundo

-Amable es la muerta que acaba con mi penar

Pero cruel aquella que en vano amé

Las fuentes musgosas mis cuitas murmuran

Montes huecos hacen ecos de mis gruñidos

Toda ninfa me llora

Mientras agonizo

Ella sólo me desdeña

Que dio causa a mi dolor

El amor no correspondido

y negado toda esperanza-

Yaciendo bajo melancólico ciprés

Cual cisne cantaba al agonizar

-Amable es la muerte que acaba mi penar

Pero cruel aquella que en vano amé.-

A song from the Italian from Limberham: or, the Kind Keeper

by John Dryden

By a dismal cypress lying,

Damon cried, all pale and dying,

Kind is death that ends my pain,

But cruel she I lov'd in vain.

The mossy fountains

Murmur my trouble,

And hollow mountains

My groans redouble:

Ev'ry nymph mourns me,

Thus while I languish;

She only scorns me,

Who caus'd my anguish.

No love returning me, but all hope denying;

By a dismal cypress lying,

Like a swan, so sung he dying:

Kind is death that ends my pain,

But cruel she I lov'd in vain.

George Hebert part II

El resorte

Si pudiéramos ver bajo

La esfera de la virtud y hasta cualquier gracia brillante

Tan claramente como brilla allá arriba.

Este será el mejor cielo, el lugar más luminoso.

Dios ha hecho de las estrellas

El restorte para con la virud

Y los dolores para dejar de pecar.

Mas en este mundo miserable nos afanamos

Como si el dolor maligno no fuese

ni la virtud vencedora.

The Foil.

IF we could see below The sphere of vertue, and each shining grace As plainly as that above doth show; This were the better skie, the brighter place. God hath made starres the foil To set off vertues; griefs to set off sinning: Yet in this wretched world we toil, As if grief were not foul, nor vertue winning.

La muerte

Muerte, eras cosa grosera y fea

Nada más que huesos

El triste resultado de gruñidos más tristes aún.

Tenías la boca abierta pero cantar no pudiste.

Pues te consideramos cosa de entre seis

O diez años por delante

Después de perder la vida y el sentido

La carne convertida en polvo, los huesos en astillas.

Te miramos de esta parte, desatinando,

Donde encontramos

Las cáscaras dejadas por almas recientes

Polvo seco que echar lágrimas no puede mas exhorta aún.

Pero desde que la muerte de Nuestro Salvador

Te escupió sangre en la cara

Te pusiste bella y de gracia llena

Mucha en demanda y solictada

.

Ahora te vemos alegre y de buen ánimo

Como el dia del juicio

Cuando las almas han de llevar ropaje nuevo

Y todos tus huesos han de vestirse en belleza.

Así que morir podemos cual dormir y confiar

La mitad de lo que poseemos

A una tumba fiel y honrada

Al tener almohadas de pluma o de polvo.

Death.

DEath, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder grones; Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. For we consider’d thee as at some six Or ten yeares hence, After the losse of life and sense, Flesh being turn’t to dust, and bones to sticks. We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short; Where we did finde The shells of fledge souls left behinde, Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort. But since our Saviours death did put some bloud Into thy face; Thou art grown fair and full of grace, Much in request, must sought for as a good. For we do now behold thee gay and glad, As at dooms-day; When souls shall wear their new aray, And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad. Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Half that we have Unto an honest faithfull grave; Making our pillows either down, or dust.

George Herbert (1593-1633) en español part I

I am generally more acquainted with Spanish Poetry (especially 17th century), however I have recently been boning up on English-language contemporaries of my favorite poets. As such, much of this English verse is amenable to Spanish translation after drinking in the likes of Lope, Gongora, and Quevedo. Of the so-called Metaphysical poets George Herbert is a good start. Quevedo being the most representative Metaphysical poet in Spanish. However, Herbert has a more limit subject matter in that he wrote strictly religious poetry with the use of a most understated and subtle poetics. So far I have translated 14 or so of his poems into Spanish.

Her is a selection from his bio at Wikipedia:

George Herbert (April 3, 1593 – March 1, 1633) was a Welsh poet, orator and a priest. Being born into an artistic and wealthy family, he received a good education which led on to him holding prominent positions at Cambridge University and Parliament. As a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, England, George Herbert excelled in languages and music. He went to college with the intention of becoming a priest, but his scholarship attracted the attention of King James I. Herbert served in parliament for two years. After the death of King James and at the urging of a friend, Herbert's interest in ordained ministry was renewed. In 1630, in his late thirties he gave up his secular ambitions and took holy orders in the Church of England, spending the rest of his life as a rector of the little parish of St. Andrew Bemerton, near Salisbury. He was noted for unfailing care for his parishioners, bringing the sacraments to them when they were ill, and providing food and clothing for those in need. Throughout his life he wrote religious poems characterized by a precision of language, a metrical versatility, and an ingenious use of imagery or conceits that was favored by the metaphysical school of poets. (From Wikipedia)

La Esperanza

Le di a la Esperanza un reloj mío mas Ella

Me dio un ancla

Luego le presenté un antiguo brevario

Y Ella una lupa me envió

Con eso un bote lleno de lágrimas le di

Y ella sólo mazorcas verdes de maíz

Ay delatadora, ¡no le traeré nada más!

Pues me esperaba un anillo.

Hope.

I Gave to Hope a watch of mine: but he An anchor gave to me. Then an old prayer-book I did present: And he an optick sent. With that I have a viall full of tears: But he a few green eares. Ah Loyterer! I’le no more, no more I’le bring: I did expect a ring. Himno-Diálogo El hombre- Ay, muerte miserable, ¿dónde está tu gloria? ¿Dónde tu famoso vigor, tu antiguo aguijón? La muerte- Ay, pobre mortal, falto de historia. Anda, estudia y lee como asesiné a Tu Rey. El hombre- Muerte miserable, ¿a quién le hizo daño? El mismo hechizo que le echaste te hechiza a su vez. La muerte- Deja hablar a los perdedores, pues morirás y estos mismos brazos te aplastarán. El hombre- No te detengas, haz lo que puedas. Y algún día seré mejor que antes Y tú cada vez peor pues no existirás. A Dialogue-Anthem Alas, poor Death! Where is thy glory? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting? Alas, poor mortal, void of story! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King. Poor Death! And who was hurt thereby? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die; These arms shall crush thee. Spare not, do thy worst. I shall be one day better than before; Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

A Chick-Tract parody explaining Manichaeism.

Mani Explains It All

Change of course for War on Terror

Story involving Borges, a token Honorary Doctorate, Michigan and spoon-full of irony.

From Borges by Bioy Casares on page 1432, in the entry for Saturday March 25 1972, Bioy notes:
"Borges, who arrived yesterday from the US where they gave him an honorary doctorate at the University of Michigan is very animated. Borges: "The doctoral ceremony was obviously political. If I had known I would never have come. They gave the degree to four of us: two whites, one Indian and a Black. I believe it was on account of racism since they chose us only on account of our race. "

It makes me laugh. It appears that Borges never considered the possibility that they gave him the honorary degree because he was the token Hispanic, thus completing the racial rainbow of the continent.

(Translated/adapted from blog: Rayos y Truenos)



Borges de Bioy Casares. A la altura de la página 1432, en la entrada del sábado 25 de marzo de 1972, anota Bioy.

Borges, que llegó ayer de los Estados Unidos, donde le dieron el título de doctor honoris causa de la Universidad de Michigan, está muy animoso. Borges: “El acto del doctorado fue evidentemente político. Si lo hubiera sabido, no iba. Nos dieron el título a cuatro personas: dos blancos, un piel roja y un negro. Yo creo que sólo por racismo, porque toman en cuenta las razas, nos eligieron”.

Me da la risa. Parece que Borges no contemplaba la posibilidad de que la causa de su doctor honoris fuese que lo contabilizaban de hispano, completando así la colección de las razas del continente.

The Wounded Man

from the writings of Christopher Thompson, Vicar at St. John’s

Imagine if you will a wayfarer in a foreign land carrying all his goods for the journey on his person. Of a sudden he is most violently attacked and stripped of all his belongings and left for dead on the side of the way. Yet during the night several notables pass by, the first of which is the Minister of Education.

“Oh poor chap, “ the Minister declares, “must have got into that devil rum. ‘Tis a pity. But when we implement the new educational plan, by Jove, all will be remedied. For Ignorance is the great evil of the age and Education its balm.”

Later the Bishop of Bath and Wells happens past. “Alas,” the bishop sighs, “there are many of this ilk reprobated by Divine Justice and destined thus to Perdition. For we cannot all be Eton men,” and His Eminence goes his way.

Then a caravan of gypsies wanders past as is this people’s wont. One of the group, a young lad, notices the suffering man. Signaling the rest of his party, they take him into their midst with utmost hospitality and nurse his wounds.

Now then, who is the just? Who is he who does God’s will? Thus did Our Lord ask the scholar to add sting to the parable. But what of His meaning?

It has oft been interpreted that the wayfarer is our neighbour. And he who aides him completes God’s charity. Yet one need not be Christian to be charitable. For a veritable cadre of public works are now trumpeted before us in the name of progress and humanitarianism. Yet I wish to speak of something that all the official societies in the world cannot remedy. The wayfarer is us and his wounds our sins. Attacked by the Devil in our father Adam, we are stripped bare of divine life as skin is torn from the body. After which all the powers and principalities walked on, mocking man’s fall. And were it not for the lowliness of Christ who deemed equality of God not a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself in the form of a slave, we were lost. For it is Christ the wretched, Christ the despised, who harkens to the side of the way and heals the wounded man.

As for the philanthropic societies, who can be a philanthropist, a lover of men, if he not first recognize his own woundedness and that of the whole world? For man, true advancement is not found in material progress but through healing which leads to wholeness. As it is written: “Be therefore perfect as Your Lord is perfect.”