ELEGÍA A MI PERRO/ ELEGY FOR MY DOG

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Una mañana de hace doce años, llevé a mi perro, ya ciego, sordo y prácticamente inmóvil, a que sintiera el campo y la naturaleza, el mundo que a él le gustaba, por última vez. Tuve que sacarlo del coche en brazos. Luego fui al veterinario, que lo durmió con una inyección para la eternidad. 

Murió en Madrid, pero había nacido en Vizcaya. Nada más nacer lo abandonaron junto a sus hermanos en un cajón, en la calle.

Durante varios años paseé con él junto a los acantilados del Cantábrico. Fue mi hermano, y mi maestro en tantas cosas...

Elegía

                                       A mi perro (1981-1998)

Amanece cantábrico en Madrid

y erizos de llantén ladran al viento

Campas entxokolatadas

lluvias de tamboril rasgan mi aliento

Hoy pasearé por los acantilados

que el Manzanares descubre en días de luto

y te recordaré

rastreando los secretos de tu embrujo

Hube de rescatarte de esta vida

la muerte claudicaba ante tu fuerza

colmillo ensimismado

nobleza vagabunda de esta tierra

Temblarán esta noche las estrellas

del aullido solemne y reverente

que te dedicarán

los perros de otros mundos y los de este

Y yo saldré al balcón a despedirte

vestido con sonrisa de farero

mirada de guitarra

y mi adiós en la copa del sombrero 

Américo Virus, Madrid, 25may98

On a morning, twelve years ago, I took my dog out to the countryside, the place he liked the most, for his last time. He was blind, deaf and almost couldn’t move at all. I had to take him out from the car in my arms. Then I went to the veterinarian, who gave him an injection to sleep forever.
He died in Madrid but he was raised in Biscay, in the Basque Country. When he was born, he was abandoned with his siblings inside a crate, in the street.
Everyday I walked with him along the cliffs of the Cantabric sea. He was my brother, and my teacher in so many things...

Elegy for my dog

To my dog (Biscay, 1981 – Madrid, 1998)

Day dawns Cantabric in Madrid

Weed hedgehogs barking at the wind

Prairies of chocolate parties

Drumming rains tearing my breath

Today I'll walk along the cliffs

That River Manzanares on mourning days uncovers

Tracing the secrets of your spell

I will celebrate your memory

I had to rescue you from this life

Death was giving in to your strength

You, stubborn canine

Stray nobility of this Earth

Tonight the stars will shiver

At the howls

Reverent and solemn

That dogs from this world and the others

Will dedicate to you

And I will come out to the balcony

To pay my last respects

Dressed with lighthouse keeper smile

Guitar gaze

And with my top hat waving you goodbye

Americo Virus, 25may1998

IAN CURTIS - IN MEMORIAM

Some months ago I posted an entry to pay homage to Ian Curtis, leader and voice, singer and writer, of Joy Division, who committed suicide 30 years ago, on May 18th, 1980.

I accidentally “suicided” the entry. I post it again.

It’s my favourite song of Joy Division. It’s called “Shadowplay”.

What do I like about Ian and Joy Division? I only really like 5-6 songs of the band. And I feel deep sorrow for a talented guy who kills himself at 23. But I admire the consistency from the beginning to the end of the narrative of the story of the band.

I may compare it with the consistency of the story of The Beatles. Both are perfect (From Latin "perfectum": complete, finished) stories. That’s the beauty of them.

I’ll explain myself. The Beatles’ is a story about love, theme of most of their songs, that ended like a fairy tale, with a song called “The End” (“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make”).

Joy Division’s is its tragic reverse. Their (his, Ian’s) songs talked about despair, frustration and inner death. And their (his) story ended with an album called “Closer” — Closer to what? Closer to death, as suggested by the picture on the cover, chosen by the band, (by Curtis?): the photograph of a tomb, where you see a man lying dead, and four women crying, holding his wake; and a story that ends with Ian’s suicide.

Victory of love vs. Failure of love.

But same authenticity ‘til the end to perform their stories. Same perfection, form and content together. Same beauty.

"Padre e hijo" (Los Khermuses de Assilah, en el cenotafio de Khermús padre)

Fotos: AV. Arriba: Padre e hijo; Medio: Cenotafio de Khermús; Abajo: Hijo.

Khermús murió en 2007. A finales. Mientras dormía la siesta. Inesperadamente. Su hijo estaba a punto de nacer. No llegó a conocerlo. Enterramos las cenizas de Khermús en el mar de Assilah (Marruecos), en un lugar llamado Los Acantilados. Estas son fotos de su cenotafio.

¡Tapug diegma!