by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Listen to it (read by David Tennant):

Fernanda G. - teacher

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz—
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench—
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, ‘Is it all going to happen again?’

Do you remember that hour of din before the attack—
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads—those ashen-gray
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
If you can think- -and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on! '

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings- -nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And- -which is more- -you'll be a Man, my son!

 
Manuel Castaño Teacher

 

Compagna Lei sa che può contar su di me non fino a due né fino a dieci ma contare su di me.  

Se qualche volta sentirà che la guardo negli occhi e una vena d’amore riconosce nei miei, non spiani i suoi fucili 

non pensi, che delirio! malgrado la vena o forse perché existe Lei può contare su di me. 

Se altre volte mi trova schivo senza una ragione non pensi, che noia! lo stesso può contare su di me. 

 

Ma facciamo un patto, io vorrei contare su di Lei.  È così bello sapere che Lei existe uno si sente vivo e quando dico 

questo voglio dire contare anche se fino a due anche se fino a cinque, non perché Lei accorra premurosa in mio aiuto 

ma per sapere con certeza che Lei sa che può contare su di me. 



FACCIAMO UN PATTO (Mario Benedett

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

-- by Charles Bukowski

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
    So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Manuel Castaño Teacher

(Marcel Proust, À la recherche du temps perdu, III, 1033)

 

José Antonio J. A2 Francés (L,X et V 9-11)

Les trains démarrent souvent au moment où on s'y attend le moins
Et l'histoire d'amour t'emporte sous l'œil impuissant des témoins
Les témoins c'est tes potes, qui t'disent au revoir sur le quai
Et regardent le train s'éloigner avec un sourire inquiet

Toi aussi, tu leur fais signe, et t'imagines leurs commentaires
Certains pensent que tu t'plantes et qu't'as pas les pieds sur terre
Chacun y va d'son pronostic sur la durée du voyage
Pour la plupart, le train va dérailler dès l'premier orage

Le grand amour change forcément ton comportement
Dès l'premier jour, faut bien choisir ton compartiment
Siège couloir ou contre la vitre, il faut trouver la bonne place
Tu choisis quoi? Une love story d'première ou d'seconde classe?

Dans les premiers kilomètres, tu n'as d'yeux qu'pour son visage
Tu calcules pas derrière la fenêtre le défilé des paysages
Tu t'sens vivant, tu t'sens léger, et tu n'vois pas passer l'heure
T'es tellement bien qu't'as presque envie d'embrasser le contrôleur

Mais la magie ne dure qu'un temps, et ton histoire bat d'l'aile
Toi tu dis qu'tu n'y es pour rien et qu'c'est sa faute à elle
Le ronronnement du train te saoule et chaque virage t'écœure
Faut qu'tu t'lèves, que tu marches, tu vas t'dégourdir le cœur

Et le train ralentit, c'est déjà la fin d'ton histoire
En plus t'es comme un con, tes potes sont restés à l'autre gare
Tu dis au revoir à celle que t'appelleras désormais ton ex
Dans son agenda, sur ton nom, elle va passer un coup d'Tipp-ex

C'est vrai qu'les histoires d'amour, c'est comme les voyages en train
Et quand j'vois tous ces voyageurs, parfois, j'aimerais en être un
Pourquoi tu crois qu'tant d'gens attendent sur le quai d'la gare?
Pourquoi tu crois qu'on flippe autant d'arriver en retard?

Pour beaucoup, la vie s'résume à essayer d'monter dans l'train
À connaître ce qu'est l'amour et s'découvrir plein d'entrain
Pour beaucoup, l'objectif est d'arriver à la bonne heure
Pour réussir son voyage et avoir accès au bonheur

Il est facile de prendre un train, encore faut-il prendre le bon
Moi j'suis monté dans deux-trois rames, mais c'était pas l'bon wagon
Car les trains sont capricieux et certains sont inaccessibles
Et je n'crois pas tout l'temps qu'avec la SNCF c'est possible

Il y a ceux pour qui les trains sont toujours en grève
Et leurs histoires d'amour n'existent que dans leurs rêves
Et y'a ceux qui foncent dans l'premier train sans faire attention
Et forcément ils descendront déçus à la prochaine station

Y a celles qui flippent de s'engager parce qu'elles sont trop émotives
Pour elles, c'est trop risqué d's'accrocher à la locomotive
Et y'a les aventuriers qu'enchaînent voyage sur voyage
Dès qu'une histoire est terminée, ils attaquent une autre page

Moi après mon seul vrai voyage, j'ai souffert pendant des mois
On s'est quittés d'un commun accord, mais elle était plus d'accord que moi
Depuis j'traîne sur le quai, j'regarde les trains au départ
Y a des portes qui s'ouvrent, mais dans une gare j'me sens à part

Il paraît qu'les voyages en train finissent mal en général
Si pour toi c'est l'cas, accroche-toi et garde le moral
Car une chose est certaine, y'aura toujours un terminus
Maintenant tu es prévenu, la prochaine fois tu prendras l'bus
Marta M. Français B2.1

By Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Ángeles A.
Inglés C1.1

All the angels around me, 

killing the last day of my life, 

bombarding me with their wings of fire.

Tired, so tired…

 

I’m surrounded.

All the saints praying for my sins.

Salvation, I have to defeat.

 

I’m at the end of this fence, 

suffering the torture of my cage.

But this bird has flown, lost…

 

Just my imagination captures

the sense of this battle.

Inside of me, 

a soldier aiming his rifle 

and prepared to fire 

all the reasons of survival.

 

I’m on the other side, 

with the devil tempting my desires. 

The beast, whispering all the lies

I have never told, 

burning under my skin.

 

The time when I have to pay some cost,

to be myself,

to stop being lost. 

 

 | a thing about life.*** "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not li...youtu.be

 

Thought blood shall dry

The deep remains;

The clock shall die

But Time walks on. 

We spoke a word

And then we turned, 

For neither dared

To watch love end. 

In Heart's deep well

The world still falls

Answer beats love's soul

Against the walls. 

And so I say, 

Thought blood shall dry, 

The deep is fresh, 

But the soul life… . 

Shrouded in golden leaves,

we wait.

The world doesn’t end at sunset

and only dreams

limit themselves to things.

Through a labyrinth of blank hours

time leads us on

as autumn falls

over our house, our patio.

Shrouded in a relentless fog

we wait, we wait:

nostalgia means to live without remembering

the word we are made of. 

Inma Sánchez - A1. 

“Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.” 

“He said that you could solve anything.” 

“He said too much.” 

“That you are never beaten.” 

“I have been beaten four times—three times by men, and once by a woman.” 

“But what is that compared with the number of your successes?” 

“It is true that I have been generally successful.” 

“Then you may be so with me.” 

“I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some details as to your case.” 

Mario C. Inglés: B2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAYSyMLf1To (5´10´´)

OR IF TAROT OR PLAYING CARDS

CAN REVEAL ANYTHING.

I DON’T KNOW IF THE ROLLING OF DICE

CAN LEAD TO ANY CONCLUSION.

BUT I ALSO DON’T KNOW 

IF ANYTHING IS ATTAINED

BY LIVING THE WAY MOST PEOPLE DO.

YES, I DON’T KNOW

IF I SHOULD BELIEVE IN THIS DAILY RISING SUN

WHOSE AUTHENTICITY NO ONE CAN GUARANTEE ME.

OR IF IT WOULD BE BETTER (BECAUSE BETTER OR MORE CONVENIENT)

TO BELIEVE IN SOME OTHER SUN,

ONE THAT SHINES EVEN AT NIGHT ,

SOME PROFOUND INCANDESCENCE OF THINGS,

SURPASSING MY UNDERSTANDING .

FOR NOW…

( LET’S TAKE IT SLOW) 

FOR NOW…

I HAVE AN ABSOLUTELY SECURE GRIP ON THE STAIR-RAIL,

I SECURE IT WITH MY HAND

THIS RAIL THAT  DOESN’T BELONG TO ME

AND THAT I LEAN ON AS I ASCEND

YES...I  ASCEND…..

I ASCEND TO THIS:

i DON’T KNOW IF THE STARS RULE THE WORLD.

BY Fernando Pessoa.

LOLA G.

Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me accompany their in their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.

“Gentlemen,” I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, “I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen, this-this is a very well constructed house.”(in the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.)-”I may say an excellent well constructed house. These walls are you going, gentlemen?- these walls are solidly put together.” and here, through the mere phrenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane with which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosson.

But my God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb!-by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman- a howl-a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the damned in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.

On my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next, a dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb!.

I hope you liked it as much as the first time I read it.
Ana Luz F.
English B2.2

I'm breaking little by little,

in tiny pieces,

in small cries,

I'm breaking into drops apart.

That the drops slide down my body

and wash my bare feet

and can walk-in this way-better in the world

taking small steps,

skipping,

striding,

or dancing.

That the drops reach the river

and then to the sea,

where they mix with the drops of other rivers,

who have washed other feet,

that have been discarded in other bodies,

over other bodies,

soaking sheets.

How to distill deep pain

how to find the origin,

how to pull the thread to get there,

to the center of the wound,

look her in the eye

and hug her gently.

Leli English B22

Cristóbal Jiménez
B2.2 English.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well—
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.

                   ------------------

You will find here an interesting analysis of the poem:

https://poemanalysis.com/lord-byron/when-we-two-parted

Antonio Ortigosa Fernández
(English - B2.2)