Published on Sep 24, Ilustración; Omar Rojas Saab. Adaptación del cuento de Jean Cocteau. “El gesto de la muerte” Bogotá, Colombia. Sep El gesto de la muerte. Jean Cocteau (). Un joven jardinero persa dice a su príncipe: − ¡Sálvame! Encontré a la Muerte esta mañana. Me hizo un gesto. JEAN COCTEAU. U E. n joven jardinero persa dice a su príncipe: 10 EjErcicios. Alumno: El gEsto dE la muErtE. 1. ¿Dónde transcurre el cuento? 2. ¿Quiénes.
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Will you take me as l am? Hay una sola cosa de la cual puedo considerarme maestro consumado.
A centenares de alumnos les he muuerte esa meta, pero hasta hoy ninguno ha alcanzado el grado supremo en el arte de la espada. Me hizo un gesto de amenaza. Esta noche, por milagro, quisiera estar en Ispahan. Y todo el pueblo exclama: Luego empieza la guerra Y el maestro zen dice: Charlie Wilson’s War Mike Nichols, Antiguo barrio — tras el nuevo edificio la luna llena Orzas.
Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away!
Lo cubano, zona peligrosa
You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own.
And you know what you jeam. And YOU are the guy coctrau decide where to go. You’ll look up and down streets. Look ’em over with care. About some lx will say, “I don’t choose to go there. And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town.
It’s opener there in the wide open air. Out there things can happen and frequently do muwrte people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too. You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights! You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights. You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed.
You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be the best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don’ t Because, sometimes, you won’t. I’m sorry gesfo say so but, sadly, it’s true and Hang-ups can happen to you. You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch. You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.
Monstres sacrés, Les
And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done. You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win? And IF you go in, should you turn left or right Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind. You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
That’s not for you! Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy! Oh, the places you’ll coctrau There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored.
And festo magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV. Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t. I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ’cause you’ll play against you. Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.
And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on. But on you will go though the weather be foul On you will go though your enemies prowl On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.
On and on you will hike and I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are. You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you mueret.
Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left. And will you succeed? Today is your day! Your mountain ,a waiting.
The rain has filled the birdbath Again, almost Jack Kerouac. Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out muerye the crannies;- Coctea you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower-but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is. La misteriosa luz de mi interior se extiende por el cosmos.
En este cuerpo y en esta mente no existe lugar para la vida y la muerte cuando son libres de llegar y partir. On the beach, at night, Stands a child, with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, cocteay black masses spreading, Lower, sullen and fast, athwart and down the sky, Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, Ascends, large and calm, the lord-star Jupiter; And nigh at hand, only a very little above, Swim the delicate brothers, the Pleiades.
From the beach, the child, holding the hand of her father, Those burial-clouds that lower, victorious, soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps. Weep not, child, Weep jesn, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears; The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky–shall devour the stars only in apparition: Jupiter d emerge–be patient–watch again another night–the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal–all those stars, both silvery and golden, shall shine out again, The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again–they endure; The vast immortal suns, mierte the long-enduring pensive moons, shall again shine.
Then, dearest child, mournest thou only for Jupiter?