Micah’s New Blog

So, Micah’s got his own blog up and running, called The Way of the Pilgrim Poet.  I’m gonna miss him posting here 😦  But, he did give me permission to re-post his stuff, so that’s what I’ll do 🙂  Below is the link to his first post.

The Gift Without the Giver is Bare

Enjoy 🙂

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The Terminal(s) Part II

A short burst of panic and a curse under my breath…then consciously, I receive the thought:  “Everything has purpose.  Everything has meaning.”  I missed my connecting flight home…I happened to be with Micah on the phone when it happened (so Micah, I also have you to thank :p).  I embarrassingly explain to the attendant what happened, and she directs me to customer service.  “The next flight leaves at 7:18 pm.  Right now you’re on standby, but you can secure a seat if you pay $50.00.  She smiles, “The flight’s open.  I say wait it out, and it’ll take care of itself.”  I give a sigh of relief and thank her.

After she hands me my new boarding pass, I walk to the assigned terminal still a bit apprehensive.  She’d warned that this was the last flight out.  I better not miss it!  My coworkers expected me the next morning, and I didn’t want to let them and the boys down.  But this wasn’t the first time I’d goofed up and things “took care of themselves.”  I knew well that new opportunities had presented themselves in the past,  so I left myself open to whatever He would give me this time.  I suspected it was something exceptional.

For the first hour (already after my originally 2 hour layover), I continued reading The Giver.  I noticed fellow passengers taking seats nearby, and then my phone rang.  It was the airline telling me that my terminal changed.  I asked those around if they had received the same notification.  We shared a brief conversation then relocated.

I quickly became companions with L. and E.  E. was younger than us starting her first year of college.  I was touched by her home life and some of the difficulties she shared.  I was definitely able to relate.  I now keep her and her family in my prayers, and I’ll also be keeping in touch since we exchanged information.

L. and I specifically shared a lot of common interests.  What intrigued me the most was L’s awareness of her dependance on God, as well as her belief that everything is meaningful.  It turns out that she lives relatively close by, and I’m excited to be given this new friendship 🙂

Our flight was delayed more 3 hours, and our gate was changed several times.  At the last change, L., E., and I were seated by a woman who also happened to be a teacher (I’m always excited to meet teachers).  We had a great conversation about books, education, and politics.  I also talked a bit about my work, and she (the teacher) hers.

It was obvious that all of us waiting for our plane were tired.  I decided to play a few tunes on my violin to help lighten the mood.  So, I played “The Orange Blossom Special,” “Salut d’Amore,” “Meditation,” from the opera Thais, “Czardaz,” “Cantabile,” along with a few Christmas tunes and fiddle tunes until it was time to board.  Everyone loved it!  The atmosphere quickly transformed to one of joy and gratitude.  The attendants at the gate insisted that I stay and play more tunes rather than board the plane!

It turned out that the teacher and I were seated next to each other.  We talked more about education and politics.  She shared something of her aspirations and her life;  I shared something of mine as well.  Towards the end of the flight, we discovered that we had a mutual friend who is a priest!  The priest was actually her fiancé’s best friend in high school and was doing their marriage preparation.  I was a classmate of his in seminary.  She told me that her wedding is in April, and  she’s currently interviewing for teaching positions around the area.  So, I gave her my “card” (a book mark on which I wrote my information), and we hugged good-bye after exiting from our gate.

I was about ready to leave when an older woman stopped me to express her gratitude.  She was in town due to a death in the family.  The delay in the terminal had been especially difficult for her, until I started playing.  She was now filled with joy and peace 🙂  As we parted, I asked for the departed’s name and promised to keep all of them in prayer.

When the thought that everything has meaning and purpose entered my mind, I had the suspicion that what I was to receive would be exceptional.  It definitely was!  I find myself surprised, in awe, and my expectations surpassed.  All this because I desired to call a friend and ended up missing my flight!  But more importantly, all this because there is One who loves me.  The day could have been miserable.  I could have kept my nose in my book had I not follow the desire to connect with those around me.  How grateful I am to have been aware of this desire and to have the courage to reach out.  In the past, I would have been much too shy. But He has made me what I am, and it is He who brought us all together.  So I pray in gratitude for all those I encountered over my travels, and I wonder what else the future holds in store.

AMDG

c.nueva

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The Terminal(s) Part I

This year I spent Christmas at my sister’s house in New Orleans with my family.  It was a beautiful experience to get a small taste of what my younger sister’s life is like.  She rents  a beautiful house from two former nuns, and she has two roommates that are similarly driven with a sense of mission, as she is.

The first night I arrived, my sister and her roommates were hosting a party.  I felt like a celebrity!  My sister had been telling her friends about me; I’m honored by her admiration 🙂  They saw that I brought my violin, and it wasn’t long before people made requests to hear me play.  How could I turn them down?  So I played a few tunes, and we all had a great time listening and dancing 🙂

As beautiful as these experiences were, the focus of this post is on my travels through which, unexpectedly, Christ was most apparent (although, I admit that I often expect Christ to “show up” during my travels).  It started from my initial departure in which my flight was over-booked, and I had volunteered to be reassigned to a different flight.  At first, it looked like I would be placed on a later flight.  The attendant had written me a $400.00 voucher, which was initially supposed to be only $125.00, for my “troubles”!  But at the very last minute, they realized that I could fit on a flight that was scheduled to leave slightly before my original flight.  So they reassigned me again, and the voucher was upgraded to $600.00!  And I know exactly how I want to spend it.  I’d been desiring to visit some friends of mine — Massimo, Elissa, and their two children, who had moved way out to the West Coast about two years ago.  I didn’t know how I’d be able to save money for it, and I’d been praying for a way.  Well, it was given to me!

So there I was, sitting in my reassigned seat and waiting to take off.  The pilot had announced that there was still some paper work that had to be updated with the passenger reassignments, and that we would try to take off before the fog became too thick.  And thankfully, we made it 🙂  I learned that the later flight I was previously assigned to didn’t make it, and that I had “lucked out” (really an understatement).

We landed safely in Dallas, and on my connecting flight I was assigned a seat next to a lady my age who was mildly distressed due to her cold.  As we talked, I learned that she was in transition searching for another job, and that she had been bearing hardships from her previous marriage.  We talked the duration of the flight, and at one point an image of the Virgin Mary appeared on her phone.  It happened to be an album cover for a band she wanted to work for.  For me it was a beautiful sign.  We exchanged information so that we could keep in touch, and I prayed over her before we landed.  She was grateful, saying that it had been a long time (she didn’t specify what) and that she really needed it.  For my part, I was incredibly grateful to have gained a new friend and to share with her my joy and a small bit of my life.  So much so am I grateful, that a song wells up in my heart that I cannot keep.

AMDG

c. nueva

Pe cantà sta chiarità
(To sing about this brightness)
‘ncore me sente tremà!
(I feel a tremble in my heart)
Tutte stu ciele stellate,
(All this starry sky,)
tutte stu mare che ma fa sugnà.
(all the sea that makes me dream.)

Ma pe ‘tte, sole pe ‘tte
(But for you, only for you)
esce dall’anima me,
(from my soul)
mezz’a stu ciele, stu mare,
amidst this sky and this sea)
nu cantemente che ‘nze po tenè.
a song that I can’t keep comes out.)

Luntane, cchiù luntane
(Far, farther)
de li luntane stelle,
(than the furthest star)
luce la luce cchiù belle
(the most beautiful light)
che me fa ‘ncore cantà.
(shines and makes me sing in my heart.)

Marinà, s’ha da vugà
(Sailor, we must row)
tra tutta sta chiarità,
(amidst all this brightness)
cante la vele a lu vente,
(the sail sings to the wind)
ne cante granne ce luntane và:
(a great song that goes far.)

tu la si ddove vo’ i’
(You know, nice boat)
st’aneme pe’ ne’ murì
(where this soul wants to go in order not to die…)
bella paranze, luntane
(You must go far with this sigh)
‘nghe sti suspire tu ni’ da menì.

Luntane…

Chiarità, tu fi ‘ncantà
st’anema nate a sugna,
la luntananze cchiù ccare
sopr’ stu mare che ffa suspirà.

Marinà, s’ha da vugà
(Sailor, we must row)
tra tutta sta chiarita:
(amidst all this brightness)
luce luntane la stelle,
sta paranzelle mò hà da vulà.

Luntane…

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“Oh [Celibate] Brother, where art thou?”

                Within the last few days, America celebrated Thanksgiving, its sacrosanct secular holiday dedicated to gratitude and the valiant attempt to not kill your friends and family – having worked so hard to get them all together.  When I was growing up, Thanksgiving could be a time of stressful family relations, being put in near proximity to those whom I so strongly believed had toxic and ignorant opinions.  One of my older relatives in-law (I feel the need to specify the lack of blood relation) would frequently make claims about the “black-man” that my mother resented and would send my civil rights activist father into a fury of biblical proportions.  For the stress suffered by my teenage sister and I, we jokingly hummed “We Shall Overcome” during their heated arguments.

                By the time I was 17 years old, I felt “mature” enough to argue with my relations in single combat.  Having already made a few black acquaintances, I felt honor-bound to defend them and ask the question, “How can you judge what you don’t know?  Wouldn’t it be prudent to learn directly of what you have not yet experienced?”  I doubt I was that eloquent but this was the general sentiment. His response.  “I don’t need to learn what I already feel”.  Of the many things my father taught me, I cling to the belief that “Prejudice is the child of ignorance and fear”.  True to its logic and putting it to the test, I have seen no serious reason to doubt this maxim.  When people speak of other races, religions and cultures, people instantly pipe up in the name cultural relativism and ask whether or not we really know anything about those to whom we presume to judge.  I would like this courtesy extended to another group of people in our society, whom many seem licensed to frequently judge without the courtesy of a personal relationship.

                I’m talking about celibates.

                Priests, nuns, monks, brothers, sisters, consecrated virgins and Memorists, this is a group of people whom many know, (or know of) but frequently have no experience of really sharing life with them.  Having a nun as your third grade teacher or meeting the parish priest at your brother’s wedding does not count as truly sharing life with someone else – even though we meet such people frequently in the public sphere.  To speak for myself, celibates are not those I meet in mere function, but as friends, heart to heart as people.  Brother Hugh, Fr. Klamut, Fr. Taylor, Fr. Holloway, and the list goes on, which I point out only to say that “the method of knowing an object should be imposed by the object, and should consist in studying that actual object.” – Giussani.

                Given my personal experience, I was a bit underwhelmed by the recent New York Times Op Ed piece by Bill Keller, “Sex and Single Priest”.  The title is juicy, even if the article is unsatisfying.  I remembered the name Bill Keller from reading his famous article “Charlie’s Ghost”, an article he wrote in June 2002 about his decision to terminate the life of his unborn son Charlie.  I mention this not as an ad-hominem, but to clarify that the writer of the article has previously demonstrated a vast paradigm shift from the philosophy of the Church, yet seems to claim the position of being able to critique the Church as an insider, as a co-creator of its culture.

                I have often wondered why ex-Catholics, especially those who have left the Church more than thirty years ago, still claim the privilege to write articles claiming they represent a Catholic point of view.  This is not to say that ex-Catholics are incapable of writing intelligently and perceptively about the Church.  But those that do usually examine the actual facts of a given matter before providing some sort of opinion.  Mr. Keller in his article claims that priests are lonely and that celibacy “surely played some role” in the sexual abuse crisis.  Not only is this assertion clinically and sociologically disputed, it is balanced upon the evidence of two priests who have left the priesthood and one religious sister who had left her order, without asking any current priests, monks, or sisters for their thoughts, and relying upon his own speculation.  As the scientist Alexis Carrel would say, “Much discussion and little observation is conducive to error, the opposite to truth”. 

                I would like to ask if makes sense to get a fair perspective on marriage, asking only divorced persons for their opinions.  Also, assuming that God actually calls to various vocations, and assuming that the priests and sisters had left their positions to follow their true calling in obedience to Christ, wouldn’t that been an admission they were commenting on a life that they were not, in fact, called to, and therefore would be ill-equipped to live well?  It should be noted that the hidden premise of Bill Keller’s argument is that NO human beings are called to Celibacy, in spite of contrary statements by Jesus in the gospels, which might lead us to believe that neither he nor his friends seem to understand celibacy very well, though make no apology for their unapologetic criticisms and suggestions that it is an unnatural practice that increases the sexual victimization of children.  

                But let us look at a few of the facts.  Jesuit priest Father James Martin directed me towards some actual data.  In the latest survey on priests from the Center for Applied Research on the Apostolate in 2009, 95 percent report they would “definitely or probably choose priesthood again,” up from 79 percent in 1970.  From my own poll of personal friends, asking them to comment on both their experience and the experience of their fellow priests and brothers, they would agree that the statistic reflects the reality.

                Fr. Martin puts it well: 

“[A]s for celibacy “surely” leading to pedophilia and cover-ups, that overlooks the fact that most sexual abuse happens in families, many cases are found in schools and sometimes even in macho places like the Penn State football program. The reasons for the sexual abuse crisis in the church are complex [just] As they are in families and in schools. But no one says that (a) marriage, (b) teaching or (c) football leads to abuse. Celibacy must be the main culprit in the church because it’s so “weird.”

                Indeed.  Weird.  It must be weird.  It must be unhealthy.  All my friends must be an aberration.  The statistics must be inflated.  The joy of Pope Francis must be faked.  No, priests and celibates MUST be agonizingly lonely based upon the simple assertion that there is no way that God could ever meet the complex needs of the human heart, which needs to pursue its own unique desires – unless that desire is to have a heart set aside entirely for God, which is impossible.  Surely such a thing could only be imposed, not chosen freely.  By that same logic, Marriage could not be done for love, but must merely be an entrapment to dogmatic tradition.

                The judgments and analysis of Bill Keller seem greatly influenced by confirmation bias, predisposed by little evidence, already having come to his conclusion about celibacy being problematic.  He concludes therefore it is the obvious source of the complex problem of child sexual abuse.  This assertion is not only academically incompetent and morally bankrupt, but also does insult and injury to the actual victims and families, to whom we have a moral duty to understand and root out the real problems.  The level of smug moral assertion accompanied by admitted ignorance (Mr. Keller is proud of being an outsider and proud of having left the Church) is tantamount and equivalent to the ignorance of self-righteous racial prejudice.  Is not the battle cry of liberal ideology supposed to be not to judge other cultures from the outside, and first to try to understand them on their own terms?

                No, this need not be explored, because as my bigot relative would say, “I don’t need to learn what I already feel”. 

 

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Beginning Day 2013

This year I was especially excited for the Beginning Day because my friend, Jessamyn, who is a singer/song writer was included in the “itinerary” to share with us a song. I was able to catch up with her before the meeting started. She was having a very difficult time. Yet, because of this, I had great hope for her. I had been praying for her consistently already, and I knew that the provocations of Carron coupled with the affection of my friends would bring to her a freshness — and I trusted in her open humanity.

The first song presented was Razon de Vivir.  Once I read the lyrics, I couldn’t help but look over to see her reaction.  In fact, this was my reaction throughout most of the Beginning Day.  How could I not when Carron was asking us, “How can one live?” and “What is the meaning of our existence/What is our purpose in the world?”  And then he spoke of Mary Magdalene.  Mary rising early in the morning in search of him whom her heart loves (the Church used the Song of Songs to describe Mary Magdalene on her feast day).  Then Mary at the tomb weeping, unable to recognize the Lord — until He calls her name, Maria.

I couldn’t help but be grateful to the Lord, knowing that it was Him who brought us all together.  This became apparent again during dinner.  She was sitting at a table with me and several other friends.  I wanted to show her off so people could know how amazing she is.  So I asked some questions to which I already knew the answers  🙂

I was incredibly grateful for the direction Carron took us.  “How can one live?” I needed to ask this for myself, because things have been great, but I know how easy it is to have a crisis.  How can one live?  What gives me substance?  Is it my outward success?  Is it my ability to make friends and attract new ones?  I hope not.  I’ve written  enough about mistakes at work and about loneliness.  In the end, I understood that I need to hear Christ “call my name,” as he called Maria.  That is the only way I will know who I am and for what I am made.  It is the only way that I can assume a posture of receptivity, remembering that all is gift.  So I ended the day asking to “have ears to hear.”

I  also left incredibly curious about Jessamyn’s experience of the Beginning Day.  This curiosity was answered about a month later when a group of us got together, and she hosted.   You can read her experience also if you click above (it’s also available in Italian if you can read Italian).  If you read it, you’ll see more reasons why I’m grateful for her friendship.

AMDG

Carlos

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Depression, Beauty, Being.

To the Readers of Carlos Blog:

 

My name is Micah, a friend of Carlos.  He’s been trying to get me to write on his blog for a long time, so finally I have assented to the challenge.  I would appreciate it if you would please pray for me.  My clinical depression, due to winter, chemical imbalance, and lack of companionship living alone up north, has been growing worse.  The lack of medication also hasn’t been of very much help.  As a teacher, my job is fairly exhausting, and while my students love me, that is no substitute for mature friendship. I know that rigorous exercise would help, but it’s hard to summon the energy to do so, especially when you feel low already.  Unfortunately, depression is a misty cloud over my mind and heart, an oblique obstruction to the sunlight reaching my soul.  Even exciting things become bland sensations, sound and fury that seem to signify nothing.  Tonight while on the phone with a friend, I noticed the beauty of this Icon of the Blessed Virgin on my wall, and I marveled at how beautiful it was, and wondered how I could have noticed it for so long and failed to notice the beauty. Still, the winters of life can teach some interesting philosophical lessons – even though they may seem like mere abstract intellectual exercise, sign without substance.  That truly is what depression is for me, anti-sacrament – a life of sign without substance, tangent without the tangible, the experience of empty sign in my state of being.

The general grayness and ugliness of my life (perceived through the filter of my mental illness) has confirmed in me my belief about the relationship between the classical Transcendentals (Truth, Goodness, Beauty) and Being itself.  The concrete connection between Beauty and Being becomes all too clear, (especially in darkness) since Beauty is the lifeblood of being, without which reality itself (in my concrete experience) begins to slowly slip into a hazy mirage of waking death, existence without life, order without design, fact without truth, reality without meaning. 

Recently, I went to the wedding of someone very dear to me.  While there, I witnessed some very authentic innocence.  Not in the sense of clueless youth or naivete, I mean in the true sense of innocence, which means “radically open”.  This IS  a rare sight to see separated from childhood hope.  Joy flowed so naturally through these people, from these people, and I was able to have so much fun with people I had just met.  Just being able to be with them really brought reality back into focus, Beauty confronting me with Being.

There is a greeting people I know like to give to each other, “Namaste”.  I have heard it the few times I was brave enough to go to one of my friend Megan’s Hatha Yoga sessions. I don’t know why I was foolish enough to try to twist myself into a pretzel.  For me, trying to do “downward facing dog” was more like “upward facing whale”. Anyway, back on topic.  My friend Megan (the one who teaches the Yoga classes) has told me that Namaste means, “the light (form) within me greets the light (form) within you”.  I remembered that in the Meno and Phaedo, Plato made the assertion that our knowledge is actually all recollection, memory, (“Anamnesis” ἀνάμνησιν)  of the perfect forms our souls had experienced in a past life.  I don’t know about all that, but the theories lead me to a fascinating idea.  Plato assumes we only recognize some thing or idea that we have already experienced in our souls.  Some people when they meet and seem to already know each other believe in reincarnation or previous lives, sometimes in a Gnostic or Hindu sense, others believing in déjà-vu or some kind of fated destiny.  What if there is a simpler explanation with ample evidence in both Eastern and Western religious traditions?  What if the matter is simply thus: familiarity comes from the fact that the light in me, (Holy Spirit) recognizes the same light in you.  I wonder if this is the source of some of the unexplained familiarity in life, a familiar presence that wounds us, that tries to bring us back to the sense of what is real, calling to us through a beauty that brightens our world and also re-awakens us to our poverty.  Our poverty being the truth that we can’t sustain ourselves without this Beauty, this companionship with Christ.  In a simple literal sense, one can’t be a father unless he first has a father.  One cannot generate without being generated.  One cannot experience Being without first receiving it.

In the Gospels, Jesus, when he says, I am the True Vine, the True Bread, etc, is actually the Greek word Aletheia, which while translated as “true” is better translated as “Real”, in the sense of, “Hey, this is a REAL beer” (what a beer should be).  St. John seems to invoke (to his Greek audience) the Platonic idea of the Forms to say that Jesus is perfection incarnate, the manifestation of the origin and order of all things (Arche, Logos) .  In my depression, sometimes the world doesn’t seem real, like it doesn’t have any substance, reality, Being.  But then, when I see real Beauty again, the world again seems to take shape beyond the shadows of immediate perception.  It gives experience to knowledge (and therefore understanding) to the words of Christ, “You are the salt of the earth” / “You are the light of the World”.  So these are my poems relative to my experience.  They are dedicated to my friends Jake and Christina.  They are not that long, but as a poetic theologian, their explanation was always going to be longer and less interesting than the poems themselves.  But truly, it is only when I see Beauty that the world is renewed, and gets color to its cheeks, so to speak.  Beauty raises the heart and mind to God, gives rise to the sense of the extraordinary, and provides some meaning to the ordinary things.

 

….the original version of the poem was a Haiku.

 

That which is, must be.

So, therefore if beauty being.

Thou art that which is.

 

            …it evolved into the following poem.

 

“Awareness Stirs My Soul”

 

Cause and Effect, Life and breath

salt and sight and earth and light

Awareness stirs my soul.

 I think. . .

 That which is, must be.

And so it seems, if beauty being.

You are that which IS.

and that which is to be.

 

…the joy and beauty of the wedding inspired this one

 

“Inebriation at Cana”

Biblical Inspiration also from Luke Chapter 5:37-39:  “And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled, and the wineskins will be ruined. “But new wine must be put into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”

 

Cheap Salvation

seeks bottled water grace.

 

New wine can’t be watered down,

lest so-called sobriety

drown our joy.

 

 

            …one more poem, this one is dedicated to Jake, because he deserves one too.

 

“Clouded Sight in Need of Reflection in Light”

 

While daydreams delve the darkness deep,

when terror takes me to the streams

of waking waters, restless sleep,

where shadows sleek do smile and scheme.

to cloud the soul of all that seems.

 

Confusions Cannot touch the heart,

Beyond delusions kept within.

Illusions, shades must soon depart 

Where truth and light may enter in.

 

Let colors, pigments paint the day.

Lest specters creep upon the dreams

Life’s luster more than shades of gray,

As sunlight bends upon the beams,

Amidst the clouds of all that seems.

 

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Razon de Vivir

Para decidir si sigo poniendo
(To decide if I keep on putting)
Esta sangre en tierra
(This blood on the soil)
Este corazón que bate su parche
(This heart that beats its patch)
Sol y tinieblas.
(Sun and Darkness.)

Para continuar caminando al sol
(To continue walking towards the Sun)
Por estos desiertos
(Through these deserts)
Para recalcar que estoy vivo
(To emphasize that I’m alive)
En medio de tantos muertos.
(Amidst too many dead.)

Para decidir
(To decide)
Para continuar
(To continue)
Para recalcar y considerar
(To emphasize and to consider)
Sólo me hace falta que estés aquí
(I only need you to be here)
Con tus ojos claros.

¡Ay! Fogata de amor y guía
(Oh! Bonfire of love and guidance)
Razón de vivir mi vida.
(Reason of living my life.)
 
Para aligerar este duro peso
(To ease this hard weight)
De nuestros días
(Of our days)
Esta soledad que llevamos todos
(This solitude that we all carry)
Islas perdidas.
(Lonely islands.)

Para descartar esta sensación
(To dismiss this sensation)
De perderlo todo
(Of losing everything)
Para analizar por donde seguir
(To analyze where to carry on)
Y elegir el modo.
(And choosing the way.)

Para aligerar
(To ease)
Para descartar
(To dismiss)
Para analizar y considerar
(to analyze and to consider)
Sólo me hace falta que estès aquí
(I only need you to be here)
Con tus ojos claros.
(With your light eyes)

¡Ay! …

Para combinar lo bello y la luz
(To combine the beauty with the light)
Sin perder distancia
(Without losing distance)
Para estar con vos sin perder el angel
(To be with these without losing the angel)
De la nostalgia.
(of nostalgia)

Para descubrir que la vida va
(To discover that life goes)
Sin pedirnos nada
(Without asking us for anything)
Y considerar que todo es hermoso
(And to consider that everything is beautiful)
Y no cuesta nada.
(And that it costs nothing)

Para combinar
(To combine)
Para estar con vos
(to be with thee)
Para descubrir y considerar
(To discover and to consider)
Sólo me hace falta que estés aquí
(I only need you to be here)
Con tus ojos claros.
(With your light eyes)

¡Ay! …

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