Antonio Porchia (–) wrote one book, a slender collection of poetic aphorisms that became a classic in the Spanish-speaking world. With affinities to . ANTONIO PORCHIA. From “Voices”. Some things become such a part of us that we forget them. I want because of what I wanted, and what I wanted, I wouldn’t. Voices by Antonio Porchia, published by Copper Canyon Press, a nonprofit publisher dedicated to poetry, bilingual edition.
|Published (Last):||9 September 2015|
|PDF File Size:||3.54 Mb|
|ePub File Size:||18.55 Mb|
|Price:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
Quien me tiene de un hilo no es fuerte; lo fuerte es el hilo.
Some things become so completely our own that we forget them. If you are good to this one and that one, this one and that one will say you are good.
Everything is a bit of darkness, even light itself. There are sufferings that have lost their memory and do not remember why they are suffering.
Views Read Edit View history. We become aware of the void as we fill it.
It was always easier for me to love than to praise. Y esa vez tuve miedo de todo. You do not see the river of mourning because it lacks one tear of your own. Merwin has provided a sensitive and accurate translation.
Certainties are arrived at only on foot. I know I had everything, but not because I had it. The less you think you are, the more you bear. Almost always is it a the fear of being ourselves that brings us to the mirror. They are all alike. Quien se queda mucho consigo mismo, se envilece. I think you kill yourself. Some, in getting ahead of vkices, are winning themselves the desert.
And if you find everything as soon as you look for it, you find it in vain, you look for it in vain. Y te parece que han dejado de quererte.
Casi no he tocado el barro y soy de barro. I have hardly touched the clay and Voicee am made of it. Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do not take the exact amount. Lo pagado con nuestra vida nunca es caro. El hombre angonio midiendo, y no es medida de nada.
Voices – Antonio Porchia – Google Books
I do not know what you have received. When Potchia am asleep, I dream what Angonio dream when I am awake. You are a puppet, but in the hands of the infinite, which may be your own. I owe you a world. Argentine authors Aphorists deaths. A child shows his toy, a man hides his. One who walks from fire to fire dies from the cold.
Si la despiertan, toma la forma de quien la despierta, Human suffering, while it is asleep, is shapeless. He who remains with himself for a long time, degrades. Mis cosas totalmente perdidas son aquellas que, al perderlas yo, no las encuentran otros.
Near me, nothing but distances. Se puede no deber nada devolviendo la luz al sol. Yes, I am preoccupied with myself. When I believe a stone is a stone and a cloud a cloud, I am in a state of unconsciousness.