art, zen shit

also on my mind …

Nuestras vidas son los ríos
que van a dar en la mar,
que es el morir.
Allí van los señoríos
derechos a se acabar
e consumir.
allí los ríos caudales,
allí los otros medianos
e más chicos,
allegados, son iguales
los que viven por sus manos
e los ricos.

Stanza 3 from Jorge Manrique’s “Coplas a la muerte de su padre


Our lives are rivers, gliding free
To that unfathomed, boundless sea,
That is death
All earthly pomp and boast
Is swallowed up and lost
In one dark wave.
The mighty torrents that stray,
The brook that pursues its way,
And tinkling streams,
There all are equal; side by side
The poor man and the son of pride

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