Photo: Ronda. I love discovering references to authors I’ve read, especially when I don’t expect it to happen. In this case, Rainer Maria Rilke, in the mountains of Andalusia, where he arrived somehow by chance in 1912 and subsequently triggered his poetic intuition.
We wouldn’t know what to say
and would avoid each other’s eyes
Belated emotions would stifle our throats
Much more, we would prefer
Take the time to write in rhymes
what we were trying to grasp
Looking through the wet window, sadness has settled in, a certain beauty awaits, breathes, waiting for the good weather, listening time making noise, the room has been almost emptied , forced to murmur to avoid being spied on,
Regarder à travers la fenêtre mouillée, la tristesse s’installer, une certaine beauté attend, respire, en attendant le beau temps, écouter le temps bruiter, la salle s’est presque vidée, obligée de murmurer pour éviter d’être espionnée,
A travers la fenêtre mouillée, regarder la tristesse s’installer, mais aussi une certaine beauté, qui accepte le temps qu’il fait, attend, respire, écoute le temps bruiter dans la grande salle presque vidée de ses voyageurs.
A few days of sunshine by the sea, before going for a few days to Malaga (the birthplace of Picasso), before leaving for Morocco. As Charles Aznavour said, "it seems to me that misery would be less painful in the sun". There is no doubt that nights are warmer than elsewhere during the winter, but the beauty of the place and the mild climate can not entirely hide them, the less affluent, who gather behind the supermarkets to find something to eat in the garbage.