Si la amistad te ha traido por aquí, eres bienvenido para compartir mis momentos de tranquilidad, aquellos que podré dedicar a este diario, sin guión, ni intención.
Y si es el azar lo que ha hecho que aterrices con un click en este blog, bienvenido también: si llegaste y encontraste algo que te sirva, mejor.

lunes, 18 de julio de 2011

ALONE AGAIN

¡Qué subjetiva es la soledad! Podemos ser conscientes del dolor de otra persona, de su soledad, pero al volver la esquina se convierte rápidamente en una anécdota más del día, ya no pensamos más en el ese dolor que, sin embargo, permanece en ese rostro que ya no vemos, que ya no sentimos... Y, por el contrario, cuando la soledad es nuestra, nos preguntamos incrédulos cómo es posible que tras la puerta de en frente pueda haber alguien realmente feliz. En realidad es necesario que sea así, porque ¿cómo podríamos vivir con el dolor de cada ser si a veces es casi imposible vivir con el propio? Por eso, quizás me atreva decir sin apenas márgen de error que no hay mayor fortuna que tener a alguien que jamás olvide cuando el dolor llega en tu soledad para quedarse.


 Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again (Naturally)
In a little while from now,
If I'm not feeling any less sour
I promised myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower,
And climbing to the top,
Will throw myself off
In an effort to make it clear to who
Ever what it's like when your shattered
Left standing in the lurch, at a church
Where people 're saying,
"My God that's tough, she stood him up!
No point in us remaining.
May as well go home."
As I did on my own,
Alone again, naturally
To think that only yesterday,
I was cheerful, bright and gay,
Looking forward to, but who wouldn't do,
The role I was about to play
But as if to knock me down,
Reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch,
Cut me into little pieces
Leaving me to doubt,
All about God and His mercy
For if He really does exist
Why did He desert me
In my hour of need?
I truly am indeed,
Alone again, naturally
It seems to me that
There are more hearts
Broken in the world
That can't be mended
Left unattended
What do we do? What do we do?
Now looking back over the years,
And what ever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to have cried the tears
And at sixty-five years old,
My mother, God rest her soul,
Couldn't understand, why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken
Leaving her to start with a heart
So badly broken
Despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken
And when she passed away
I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally
Alone again, naturally 

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