Mark said he had a ringer of a keeper. I don't know too many ringer keepers, and Mark is way better at soccer than me, so my curiosity was piqued. Sure enough, Mike shows up, introduces himself as Miguel and proceeds to win us the next handful of games. Later on, when I was playing up at the park under the cold winter lights, we needed another outfield player and I thought, "I'll call that Chilean guy, Mike. He'll want to play." I get him on the phone and ask him if he's busy. Snorting a touch, in that jovial Chilean way of his, he replied that he hates playing soccer. He just likes playing in the goal. I'd never met anyone like that. It pretty much typifies him though. Jittery, jangly energy, bottled up in rabid observation, breathing only until the moment he can hold his breath to take a shot. There are some similarities between photogs and goalies I guess. It's all in the reflexes. The other day I saw Mike where I always see him: unexpectedly on the street. I've never seen him anywhere else. Always on the street. Always eyes darting back and forth. He recently had a show in the LES and I asked him if he had any surfy beachy shots. "Sure man, of course!"
6 comments:
No son más silenciosos los espejos
ni más furtiva el alba aventurera;
eres, bajo la luna, esa pantera
que nos es dado divisar de lejos.
Por obra indescifrable de un decreto
divino, te buscamos vanamente;
más remoto que el Ganges y el poniente, tuya es la soledad, tuyo el secreto.
Tu lomo condesciende a la morosa
caricia de mi mano. Has admitido,
desde esa eternidad que ya es olvido, el amor de la mano recelosa.
En otro tiempo estás. Eres el dueño
de un ámbito cerrado como un sueño.
-Borges
Estas fotos son unas obras maravillosas, quedo encantado con la del salvavida; gracias por compartirlas!
Oh man, the Google Translate made hash out of that...
@anonymous
the poem is called "a un gato" by jorge luis borges, there are some sweet translations out there. I belive Professor Levine has one out worth reading.
A un gato
No son más silenciosos los espejos
ni más furtiva el alba aventurera;
eres, bajo la luna,
esa pantera que nos es dado divisar de lejos.
Por obra indescifrable de un decreto divino,
te buscamos vanamente;
más remoto que el Ganges y el poniente,
tuya es la soledad, tuyo el secreto.
Tu lomo condesciende a la morosa caricia de mi mano.
Has admitido, desde esa eternidad que ya es olvido,
el amor de la mano recelosa.
En otro tiempo estás.
Eres el dueño de un ámbito cerrado
como un sueño.
~Jorge Luis Borges
To a Cat
The mirrors have not more silence,
nor more wile a wandering dawn;
you are, beneath the moon,
that obscure panther in the distance.
By undecipherable work of divine decree;
remoter than the Ganges and the sunset
yours is the solitude, yours is the secret;
we look for but cannot see.
Your langour lets my hand caress your entirety.
You have permitted, until this now forgotten eternity,
the love of a suspicious hand.
You are of a different time.
You are the lord of a private land,
like a dream.
~Jorge Luis Borges
Translating poems are probably not the best way to go, right? Better off learning the language and the idioms and the subtle cultural nuances. Especially with someone like Borges, I reckon.
But even a badly translated poem is a poem and has some magical essence of the original.
Toddy, I couldn't agree more with you... To truly appreciate a literary work is to know it in its native context. The difficulty with translating poetry (and prose for that matter) is building a relationship with the vernacular of a particular author, especially pertinent with somebody like the esteemed Mr. Borges.
The real fun comes from fishing out those snippets of 'magical essence' as you so aptly put it!
Cheers!
Here's a translation that I really like:
http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2006/12/jorge-luis-borges-un-gato.html
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