I wrote this poem in English previously.. but am looking for Spanish speakers to provide feedback on my translation.
Un poema para mi papa
Aquí estás hace tanto mucho tiempo. ¿A dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio? ¿Cuáles fueron tus sueños, tus miedos, tus esperanzas? ¿Tus expectativas.. tus sí´s y tus no´s? Tan difícil de creer… eras tú. ¡Sin embargo, me dijiste hace unas docenas de años que sentías que aún eras tú! Pero cuando te miraste al espejo, no podías creer lo que viste. Te preguntaste mientras mirabas fijamente, ¨ ¿Quién demonios es ese viejo?¨ Me reí de eso. Aunque entendí completamente. Ahora, unas pocas docenas de años después… Me pregunto, ¿Dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio?
Aquí estás en el flujo medio. ¿A dónde estuvo el tiempo da da daddio? Encontraste tu verdadero amor. Te mantuviste firme y verdadero. Trabajaste como un perro y nos viste a través de todo. Éramos tan jóvenes … nos viste crecer y los eres queridos se fueron y aún así te balanceaste y rodaste. A través de los nacimientos… el trabajo .. las alegrías.. los dolores .. los dolores en los traseros … los tiempos rápidos … los tiempos lentos … las graduaciones .. las separaciones .. los nietos … la vida en el medio .. mira cómo va .. y sigue .. y vamos. ¿Qué extrañamos? ¿Cómo podríamos saberlo? Qué rápido pasaría el tiempo como un río furioso. Como un pájaro … el tiempo, vuela … lejos .. más o menos se fue volando. ¿Cómo podríamos saberlo? ¿A dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio?
Aquí no estás hace tanto tiempo … ¿A dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio? Perdiste tu verdadero amor y ahora estás solo. Nos preguntamos cómo le iría para a usted mismo. ¿Qué harías? ¿Cómo podrías ser solo uno … solo uno? ¿Un acto en solitario? Pero seguiste e hiciste nuevos amigos. Tomaste muchas vacaciones … viajaste … se réiste y viviste. Hubo tiempos bajos.. pero ninguno demasiado bajo. Hubo tiempos altos .. pero ninguno demasiado alto. ¿A dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio?
¡Oye, oye, oye da da daddio! El tiempo aún pasaba y la vida aún fluía. Oye, esos años… ¿A dónde fueron? ¡¡¡Dime, dime da da daddio!!! Una estrella que se levanta una puesta del sol. La luna baila .. bodas.. mujeres persiquiéndote como el soltero más elegible del lugar. Pasaron un millón de horas y disfrutaste cada una de ellas. Pasó más tiempo y pasó más tiempo y pasó más tiempo. Vivo muy lejos pero cada vez que regreso a casa.. es lo mismo … pero muy diferente .. ¿A dónde va el tiempo da da daddio?
Tienes casi 80 años .. no eres tan viejo .. me digo a mí mismo … y aun así lo sé … llega un momento en que todos debemos irnos .. pero todavía estás aquí por ahora y así .. mi corazpon se aprieta. Mis ojos fluyen … qué demonios saben los médicos …
Aquí no estábamos hace tanto tiempo … ¿A dónde fue el tiempo da da daddio?
¨Sonrío porque eres mi padre. Me río porque no hay nada que puedas hacer al respecto. ¨ ‘ Desconocido
“The hand is the visible part of the brain.”
Immanuel Kant
Hands are possibly the most amazing part of our body. Hands are my somewhat secret obsession. I talk with my hands, eat with them, build with them and use them for nearly every aspect of every waking part of my day. My hands are my verbs, nouns, adjectives and exclamation points all rolled into one, or I should say two, tiny little compact parts on my body.
Hands-on projects for kids are the most engaging and our hands are our little sensors that bring information into our mind, make sense of objects for our eyes, bring things closer to our ears and our mouths. Hands express sometimes what we are not able to verbally say. Hands are in fact one of our most taken for granted assets.
Am I solitary in this conviction? I don’t think so.
The human hand is a miracle of biomechanics, one of the most remarkable adaptations in the history of evolution. The hands of a concert pianist can elicit glorious sound and stir emotion; those of a surgeon can perform the most delicate operations; those of a rock climber allow him to scale a vertical mountain wall. Neurologist Frank R. Wilson makes the striking claim that it is because of the unique structure of the hand and its evolution in cooperation with the brain that Homo sapiens became the most intelligent, preeminent animal on the earth. “The Hand” byFrank R. Wilson
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They’re neither white nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
That they are fair at all.
I’ve looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor’s dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
More beautiful to me.
“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
I’m not even sure if this is really sign language.. but I like the expressiveness
Alison Skeat, a 44 year old single mum, living on an East London council estate, dreamt up The Dirty Hands Project in March 2008. She wanted to grow organic fruit and vegetables for her and her four year old daughter. However, with no food growing skills, she wondered how on earth this would fit in with full time work…
The human hand has 27 bones, 14 of which are the phalanges (proximal, medial, and distal) of the fingers. The metacarpal is the bone that connects the fingers and the wrist. Each human hand has 5 metacarpals.
His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch. Sophie Jordan
Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.
Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn’t always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.
Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harms way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.
Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me.
“The mind has exactly the same power as the hands; not merely to grasp the world, but to change it.”
Colin Wilson
Songs about Hands
Clapping Song (Clap Pat Clap Slap), The – Shirley Ellis (1965)
Come Take My Hand – Slim Whitman (1970)
Daddy’s Hands – Holly Dunn (1986)
Hand in My Pocket – Alanis Morissette (1995)
Hand to Hold on to – John Mellencamp (1982)
Hands – Jewel (1998)
Hands Across the Table – Fats Domino (1962)
Hands Can Say a Lot – Johnny Bush (1978)
Hands Clean – Alanis Morissette (2002)
He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands – Raffi (1982)
Hands of a Working Man – Ty Herndon (1999)
Hard and Calloused Hands – Slim Dusty (1992)
Healing Hands – Sonny Isaacs and Dolly Parton (2000)
I Wanna Hold Your Hand – The Boston Pops Orchestra (1971)
I Want to Hold Your Hand – The Beatles (1964)
I Washed My Hands in Muddy Water – Stonewall Jackson (1965)
Mama’s Hand – The Lynn Morris Band (1996)
Man’s Hands, A – Victor Lundberg (1967)
My Mother’s Beautiful Hands – Bradley Kincaid (1933)
On the Other Hand – Randy Travis (1986)
Put Your Hand in Mine – Tracy Byrd (2000)
Put Your Hand in the Hand – The Lewis Family (1971)
Shake a Hand – The Four Lovers (1957)
Let’s Shake Hands and Come Out Lovin’ – Kenny O’Dell (1978)
Shake Hands and Come Out Crying – The Newbeats (1966)
Shake Hands and Come Out Dancing – Dennis Edwards (1984)
Shake Hands with a Loser – Don Winters (1961)
Touch of Her Hand, The – Don McLean (1989)
Touch of Your Hand, The – Gordon Jenkins (1952)
Touch the Hand – Conway Twitty (1975)
Wait Til I Get My Hands on You – Wynn Stewart (1985)
After spending a week off and on in the pouring down rain and then reading Rainy Day Quotes by Life Lessons, I decided that a Rainy Day post was in order.
The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Rain is my shower – Cambodia
The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you’d just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency. ~Susan Allen Toth, England For All Seasons
Rain off my window – Korea
What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance. ~Jane Austen
Rain on a hike – Venezuela
It is beautiful when it rains far away in the distance, the bright sun shining on the mound on which you stand, and only a few guerilla drops heralding the approach of the shower towards you. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863
Approaching Rains Venezuela
I am sure it is a great mistake always to know enough to go in when it rains. One may keep snug and dry by such knowledge, but one misses a world of loveliness. ~Adeline Knapp
Rain on a puddle Venezuela – picture my sister took
I’m over the bridge and under the rain.~ Mat Kearney
“When it’s pouring rain and you’re bowling along through the wet, there’s satisfaction in knowing you’re out there and the others aren’t.” -Peter Snell
“I know this much about racing in the rain. I know it is about balance. It is about anticipation and patience… about the mind! It is about owning one’s body… It is about believing that you are not you; you are everything. And everything is you.” ― Garth Stein, The Art of Racing in the Rain
Hiding under a bridge from the rain after a run in Venezuela
The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. ~ Dolly Parton
After the rain on a hike in Venezuela
“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”
― Bob Marley
A happy rainy day song.
Ooohh I hear laughter in the rain
Walking hand in hand with the one I love
Ooohh how I love the rainy days
And the happy way I feel inside“Laughter In The Rain” ~Neil Sedaka
“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
― Susan Sontag
There is something about these specific photos, just little things, specific emotions captured, a tilt of the head or a look in the eyes that make me pause. They each hold a connection to a specific memory, a specific moment in time. Some make me wistful, some happy and some fill me with pure contentment. Some are very old and some more recent. All hold in place a time in my life, captured, and held still and so impossible to reproduce. I can’t explain exactly what it is about these specific photos that cause me to pause or smile, I just know that they do.
