Most distressfully (but, my dear, how successfully!) to wail he did, his locks of a lucan tinge, quickrich, ripely rippling, unfilleted, those lashbetasselled lids on the verge of closing time, whiles ouze of his sidewiseopen mouth the … [Leer más...]
474.01-05 (Shaun, que ahora es Yawn, despierta en un escenario pastoril).
Lowly, longly, a wail went forth. Pure Yawn lay low. On the mead of the hillock lay, heartsoul dormant mid shadowed land- shape, brief wallet to his side, and arm loose, by his staff of citron briar, tradition stick-pass-on. … [Leer más...]
473.10-23 Caminando volverá a surgir como el ave Fénix (qué bonito es el final). Aquí termina III.ii
But, boy, you did your strong nine furlong mile in slick and slapstick record time and a farfetched deed it was in troth, cham- pion docile, with your high bouncing gait of going and your feat of passage will be contested with you and … [Leer más...]
473.05-10 La vida sin él (qué bonito es el final)
Life, it is true, will be a blank without you because avicuum's not there at all, to nomore cares from nomad knows, ere Molochy wars bring the devil era, a slip of the time between a date and a ghostmark, rived by darby's chilldays … [Leer más...]
472.27-473.05 Así será nuestra partida también (qué bonito es el final)
Numerous are those who, nay, there are a dozen of folks still unclaimed by the death angel in this country of ours today, humble indivisibles in this grand continuum, overlorded by fate and interlarded with accidence, who, … [Leer más...]