Transformed by Translation
The ringing, in my ears, is circular, cyclic, it comes and goes as if a reverberation to remind me, that at least in my left ear there is life, there is presence. It as if it is a reminder that I must, among other things, I must attend to this journal. What do they say: use it or lose it. I don't want to lose it. Today we have snow, yesterday the cold spell was just arriving though I know not from which direction, for I was immersed in creating my new website which is becoming an obsessive kind of task. So much so that with the impatience of a man who wants to get back to his work I clumsily break the yolks of both eggs in my breakfast frying pan. To calm myself down I take a cup of coffee, and slowly read Pablo Neruda's poem Keeping Quiet. Now we will count to twelve and we will keep still ... Now I'll count up to twelve and you keep quiet and I will go. I'm sure that I have seen a different translation for the last line, I will look it up, meanwhile, my inbox receives...