La vida

Si es así, la vida es como una representación teatral.
Creemos que tenemos muchas cosas importantes que hacer, creemos que realmente elegimos nuestra vida cuando, de hecho, jugamos con un papel, nos guste o no, nos guste o no. Cortina, uno nace, y cortina, uno muere. No lo cortamos. Y lo que hay entre estos dos términos está en las tablas de la existencia.
A veces tenemos derecho a aplausos, incluso a bis y, a veces, nos abuchean, silban o incluso expulsamos la escena del Camarde. Y no porque fuéramos malos en nuestro papel, en absoluto. Incluso parece que siempre es el mejor quien se va primero. Creo que no es bueno que las personas mayores digan eso. Sí, si fuera cierto, significaría que los que se quedan son los peores. En general, prefiero ser un poco tonto y vivir más viejo que ser el mejor e ir primero

Pseudònim: Kiki

‘Volar al migdia’, el més votat al concurs de microrelats de Cugat.cat

‘Volar al migdia’ d’Ana Oleart, signat amb el pseudònim Lyra, és el text més votat pel públic en el concurs de microrelats de Sant Jordi de Cugat.cat. El premi d’aquesta iniciativa és un llibre electrònic Kindle Paperwhite. Els textos més votats en aquest concurs:

– ‘Volar al migdia‘, (849 vots)

‘Roses’, (796 vots)

‘L’amor és cec’, (443 vots)

‘Safari’, (146 vots)

‘The legend of the bulls attacks’, (77 vots)

My life

Hello I write this card because I want to explain my life. When I was 6 years old I was diagnosed with cancer and now I am 16 years old. I have lived 10 years in the hospital and I continue there. At first, I was very scared because I thought about everything I expected in life. Now I have many friends and I have learned many things and I have Iearned to fight for what I want and what I want is not a mobile or anything like that. What I want is to be out of the hospital. I have many memories that I will never, ever forget. If you are reading this letter is because the cancer has won but I’ve lived my life to the greatest.

Pato

[ratings]

Amb tu

Ho hauria fet tot per tu. Hauria viscut a les catacumbes de París, hauria treballat al camp de concentració d’Auschwitz, hauria mort per tu. Els paradisos artificials de Baudelaire haurien sigut menys addictius i la terra promesa de Yahvé menys desitjable que agafar-te de la mà; mai no l’hauria soltada. Tu emanaves la llum que hauria envejat el mateix Inti. Un bes teu em feia recordar els millors versos de Neruda. A l’interior dels teus ulls es trobaven els canons d’Espronceda i el verd de Lorca; amb ells em miraves i feies que el temps s’aturara. Sense les teues carícies mai no hauria descobert l’Atlàntida, l’Olimp, Icària, Oz… El teu riure alegrava el mateix Kierkegaard. La teua veu fou el més gran que mai no va poder escoltar Bethoveen.

Tu ja no hi ets. Ells tampoc hi son, com tampoc hi seré jo. Però he sigut… Amb tu.

La cita prèvia

Ràpid, ràpid. Les 19:00. Buf! Quina em poso la vermella o la negra? Va, que en mitja hora ja vindrà a buscar-me! La negra, que em ressalta més l’escot. .” Love is in the air, nanananana”  Pantalons o faldilla? Faldilla. Avui toca ensenyar cuixa. Merda! El maquillatge? On és?  Les 19:15. Les sabates? Hum… Aquestes no, que l’últim cop em van fer butllofes. Millor les roses.  Els sostens. .” Love is in the air, nanananana” La colònia, la bona. Maurici, Maurici! Serà una gran cita. Coll de sabates, quin mal! Les 19:29! Una mica de perfum. Estic boníssima! Les claus, les claus. Ai el rímel! Ara sí que ja baixo.”Love is in the air everywhere, I look around ,Love is in the air ,Every sight and every sound”. M’assec al banc de la porteria. Em trec les sabates. Han passat dues hores i res El trucu. El  telèfon del Maurici no deixar de repetir-me  El móvil al que llama esta apagado o fuera de cobertura.

Madame Bovary

The legend of Saint George

Once upon a time, in a castle of a small town, there lived a king, a queen and a princess. Not too far, there lived a dragon in a cave of a mountain. That dragon was black, big and ugly. Every day, he ate a person and all the people of the town were scared. One day, the dragon wanted to eat the princess. He caught the princess and took her in his cave. But at that moment, arrived to town a knight: St. George. He went with his white horse to the cave to save the princess. After, he entered in the cave and with his spear he killed the dragon. The blood of the dragon fell to the floor of the cave. From the dragon’s blood grew a rosebush and from that rosebush a beautiful red rose. Saint George took it and gave it to the beautiful princess as a proof of love.

Once upon a time

I see two or three birds in the sky. Also I see a dragon, following them, spitting flames. A big fish appears suddenly and I don’t care about the poor birds because it is bigger and wonderful. The next thing I see is Nautilus and a big dolphin beside it. Where is Nemo? I suppose he missed his submarine.

Instead of submarine a small plane arrives and falls out of the sky. I am sorry about that, maybe people will not survive.

Leafs of trees moves because of the wind and I hear a cat meowing. I close my eyes and everything disappears. I cannot see anything but I know if I open my eyes I will see more fantastic things. I really love spring clouds. You imagine whatever you want and nobody says a word.

 

Rosita Roja

Mira’m

Abans d’anar a dormir, aquesta nit, quan estiguis estirada en el llit, relaxada, i ja mig adormida, vull que pensis amb mi. Pensa amb mi i imagina que pots volar. Que no peses res i que si vols pots flotar en el aire amb tota tranquil·litat. Et sents segura i tranquil·la. Pots volar i deixar enrere tots els teus problemes i preocupacions. Imagina-t’ho. Que gran sensació, no creus?

La pròxima vegada que em vegis recorda aquesta sensació i així voldràs dir-me la veritat. Perquè quan dius la veritat et treus un gran pes de sobre.

Jo et diré “Hola” i et sentiràs com una ploma. Lleugera, ingràvida, gairebé inexistent…

Pensa en el que t’he dit. Vola.

Rosita Roja

Thinks that may not pas

I went to Ireland last winter. There it was cold and it was raining a lot. I was alone in a street on Dublin, at the centre city. I was afraid and very cold. There wasn’t any light and all was dark. A huge figure was coming very fast to me. I didn’t know what to do. The huge figure was a big monster with a horrible face. I didn’t know what to do so I closed the eyes. Then when I opened I was laying in my bed. I was safe and it was only a nightmare.

The night at sky

On the sky, there are little lights,

They are there since the Earth appeared,

Shining all together like beautiful pearls.

They disappeared when the day started,

But I know they will come back every nights.

I’’ll know that when I’m dead,

They will be still like my memories.

As the way as they were when I lived.

Wonderful sparkles,

The night on sky, has just started!

Dreamer